Are You a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?

"Confess. Unburden your soul."

Alright, I confess. I'm a theatre major and I've never seen Wicked. Go ahead, lock me up.

Up until recently, I hadn't read Wicked, either. A friend of mine, fascinated by the world-building in my writing, loaned it to me and I just finished.

First, I would like to say that, while I appreciate that she finds my writing to be good, my world-building is not on par with Gregory Maguire. (Though, admittedly, I am not very familiar with the original L. Frank Baum Oz books, so I don't know how much Maguire is inventing, and how much he's expanding upon.)

Interestingly, the day before I finished reading Wicked, Jason and I watched a film called The Reckoning, which was about a woman in 1665 who is accused of being a witch and the torture she endures as the authorities try to get her to confess.

How things change! In 1939, in a film based on a book published in 1900, Glinda famously (even cutely) asks Dorothy, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Dorothy, aghast, responds, "I'm not a witch at all," more in line with what we'd expect from someone accused of witchcraft in the 17th century. "I am innocent to a witch - I know not what a witch is," proclaims a character in The Crucible, based on events from the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93.

This was supposed to be a review of Wicked. It seems to be turning into a review of accusations of witchcraft.

It doesn't spoil anything to say that Elphaba in Wicked chooses to become a witch. Or rather, she chooses to pose as one and things kind of fall together for that persona. She and her sister don't balk when people start - jokingly, at first - to refer to them as the Wicked Witch of the East and the Wicked Witch of the West (based on where each of them lives).

In the film I referred to, Grace obviously does not chose to pose as a witch, and the amount of torture she endures is in hopes to save her infant daughter.

Interestingly enough, we watch both women slide along the slippery edge of insanity. The scale is different, to be sure: Elphaba's story spans approximately 40 years, Grace's merely a few days.

Elphaba slowly endures parental neglect, hardships, friendlessness, sudden personal loss, and denial of the forgiveness she desperately seeks. When her sister, Nessarose, is unexpectedly killed by the falling house, and her old school friend Glinda gives away Nessa's shoes - shoes that her father made for the favored sister, shoes that Nessa had promised would be Elphaba's some day - Elphaba finally allows the cloak of "Wicked Witch" to slip around her and goes off the rails trying to get the shoes back from her sister's unwitting killer. (And I mean, really, if my old college roommate gave a prized family heirloom to the person who killed my sister, I'd be pissed, too.)

Grace, on the other hand, has physical hardships and, arguably, more psychological hardships thrust upon her within a very short period (we aren't given a timeline of events prior to her arrest, but from arrest to the end of the film is four days). She maintains her innocence, refuses to give in even as she sees visions of both her dead husband and Lucifer himself.

In drastically different endings, Grace is saved by water, while Elphaba, famously, is destroyed by it. Though, reading Wicked while having seen The Wizard of Oz, Maguire handles Dorothy's (and Elphaba's) motive differently than the source material. Both Grace and Elphaba have a moment of peace as their trials finally end.

The Punishment Food

"Throw him in the dungeon! Give him only bread and water!" - any medieval or fantasy tyrant worth their salt.

"It is not the bread and water I fear. I can live on bread - when have I asked for more?" Joan of Arc (per George Bernard Shaw)

"I. Love. Bread." Oprah

Hm... One of these things is not like the others.

Ah, bread. The staple of civilization. The most basic of basic commodities in Western and Middle Eastern culture for millennia. Cultures are defined by the bread characteristic to them. Open a story with the description of a meal - whether the bread on the table is a baguette or biscuits - and you've solidly placed a setting in the reader's mind. And what else? Is bread the ONLY thing on the table? Is it stale? Is it white or coarse wheat? Is it merely there along with a mountain of meats and delicately prepared exotic fruits and vegetables? Each of these scenarios says a lot about your world and your characters.

And yet now... now, there's a movement - dare I say an obsession? - with eliminating bread (or, more specifically, refined carbohydrates) from the diet. What was the most basic staple, the food that even the most hated prisoner was allowed, has become a special treat: "I've been good on my diet all week - I'm going to have a roll with dinner." I wonder, 100 years from now, if someone reads a story (a "chick lit," a YA that deals with dieting and body image issues, etc.) if that person will be confused as to why the character in the book eschews bread... or confused as to why bread is even an option. (No, I don't really think the latter is going to happen. 10,000 years of the existence of bread isn't going to be toppled by a couple decades of a diet fad. We'll have a new obsession in 100 years.)

So, bread - the basic food. ONLY bread - the "punishment" food, or the "reward" food depending on what era you're talking about. A friend and I were talking about another "punishment" food the other day.

"Why do we eat bitter herbs and unleavened bread, my uncle?" Eliezar, The Ten Commandments

My friend is Jewish, and shortly after Passover, her husband found huge box of matzoh at Costco - a four or six box package for a dollar, or something ridiculously cheap like that. "I know it's supposed to be the 'punishment' food." She shrugged. "But I like it." Funny thing is, I like it, too (and I'm not even Jewish - we always just had it around when I was a kid). She gave me a box. Later that afternoon, I sent her a picture of the "punishment" food all dolled up with peanut butter and sliced pears. Yum!

And the bitter herb thing? My sister used to eat parsley straight. And the flat seaweed sheets you're supposed to use for sushi. We both like matzoh. I like kale. I once scared all the kids in my first grade class because I told them my favorite food was spinach. For most people, the thought that you HAVE to eat these stronger, often bitter, greens for your health is less than desirable. But for me? Sure, I'll take that kale salad. Can I have a side of matzoh?

But, then again, I also love bread.

May Maintenance

Hello readers! Just a quick monthly update for you.

As you have probably seen from my past two posts, I'm spending some time working on my online presence, and will continue to do so for the month of May. During the month of April I've collecting some feedback*, working on planning and drafting, playing with some software to make visuals the same across all platforms (or potential platforms).

*And, hey, it's not too late if you want to participate! https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2021/4/17/feedback-needed

As usual, I struggle with finding the time. Most of what I do is done while Elianna is at preschool - which, once you take out transit to and from; and lunch prep, eating, and cleanup - is really only about an hour and half twice a week. That's a good amount of time each day to get stuff down if you really buckle down and focus (and if you know what you're doing, *cough* color customizing *cough*) - but three hours a week is not a lot of time to build/rebuild a-multi-platform online presence.

Granted, Jason and I are working on trying to find more time for me - time on weekends that he can watch Elianna, seeing how independently Elianna can play while I work, etc. But if you're wondering, "Hey, there are graphic designers that can do in a couple days what you're allowing two months for"... well, that's why.

And that doesn't mean that I'm not doing anything creative at all. I am always thinking about one of my projects. In fact, on Wednesday I was having a discussion with someone about The Wolf and the Sheath and what it's about. I'm hoping to be able to get back to focusing on the creative part of the craft this summer. But with Elianna's school almost out and scheduling shifting up, I'm not going to try to guess right now what my work time is going to be like then.

Working on "Work"

I'm in a little bit of a slump for blog topics right now. As you know if you read my last post (which you can look at here: https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2021/4/17/feedback-needed ), I'm spending the next couple months working on my online platform.

That doesn't mean I don't have anything going on, just that I've been thinking about technical things ("why did I customize a color on this page? I'll never find it again!") rather than creative things ("oh, hey, I just had a great insight on this character's childhood!").

I'm thinking about LinkedIn and banners, reach and analytics, do I post a link in the body of a post or the comments? Whoo.

It's also kind of interesting that I'm doing this more technical stuff, the stuff that I consider to be more "work." Indeed, there is some crossover in what I used to do in a previous position - and I'm realizing how much some websites and softwares have updated in the four years since I left that position). The timing is kind of funny because just this week I've had two former supervisors from my previous position ask me when I might consider coming back to work with them.

As I was typing this blog and doing the math (ew, math) on how long I'd been gone from that previous position, and how long I'd been gone from the position before that, I realized it wasn't as long as it feels. It feels like Facebook and LinkedIn, Excel and other software, have gone through tons and tons of changes. Maybe that's because I'm not using those office and marketing skills much anymore. Maybe it's just because it feels so long since the years B.C. - Before Child.

In any case, I'm getting back into the technical groove of things and sometimes I feel like I'm careening along at a scary pace... and other days I'm like, "hey, you live Tweeted a made-up sports event on Superbowl Sunday when you worked at a library. You got this."

Feedback Needed!

Hi everyone!

As those of you who follow my personal Facebook page will know, I'm looking at revamping my social media presence as an author. As such, I'd like some feedback from you - yes, you, dear reader!

Some of you will read this blog on my personal Facebook, others on my author's Facebook page. Still others may read it directly from my website. I'd like to ask you take a couple extra minutes to read the below, and respond in the comments (on Facebook or Iveyink.com).

Please at a look at my website as a whole, but particularly focusing on visuals* and on the My Works page: https://www.iveyink.com/myworks (*The photo currently on the About Me page is a place holder and will be replaced sometime in the next couple months, but what colors I'm wearing will likely remain the same.)

1. What are your initial impressions?

2. Do you think the color scheme suits what you know of my personality?

3. Do you think the color scheme suits the stories on the My Works page?

4. Having read the stories, please suggest a couple adjectives or genres to describe my style.

5. Any other thoughts and feedback you'd like to offer!

Thanks, everyone! Hopefully this will provide some much-needed thought as I "tell the story of my story" online.

Traumatic Victorian Children's Books

As some of you know, last week my daughter had strep throat. She's 20 months old, and it's the first time she had a fever (not counting a low-level one after one of her immunizations). She handled it really well - I think because we got on top of it quickly. She came home from preschool feeling warm and when she still felt hot at nap time, I took her temperature and called her pediatrician. Within 24 hours of that nap, she had seen the pediatrician, had a strep test, and started antibiotics. Aside from the fever itself, the only symptom she had was falling asleep on the couch (and really, who among us hasn't done that?)

As some of you may also know, strep throat when accompanied by a rash, is Scarlet Fever. Yes, THAT scarlet fever - scourge of Victorian children's books. In those books, if someone speaks the words "scarlet fever," those who are not yet sick are whisked away to a distant locale to quarantine safely (Little Women) and, while the child lies sick, their belongings are burned (The Velveteen Rabbit).

The Victorians understood how contagion spread, but hadn't yet developed methods of sterilization, aside from the Kill It With Fire Method. Outside scarlet fever and The Velveteen Rabbit, another scene that sticks in my mind is from a film adaptation of The Secret Garden. Mary Lennox has just been told her parents have died of cholera. She drops her doll in shock; a man snatches it up and throws it on a pile of burning items from houses where people have died. I watched as Mary's doll's yellow yarn hair first turned brown, then black, as the doll began to scorch - all while Mary shrieked - "My doll, my doll, no, give me my doll!" paired with a soldier talking over her to another soldier explaining that she doesn't understand.

(To be honest, I can't remember if this scene happens in the book. I watched this film version SO many times as a kid and only read the book once or twice.)

This scene, and the burning of the toys in The Velveteen Rabbit, was very much on my mind last week. Jason brought Elianna back home from the doctor with instructions to throw away her toothbrush and toothpaste after she started her antibiotics, and to wash everything her mouth had come in contact with. In the midst of tossing pacifiers in a mesh bag and putting them in the dishwasher, and putting Brad Foxie, Maddison, Baldur, and Night-Night Bunny into the washing machine, I thought about these traumatic scenes in children's books, and was very grateful for antibiotics and the "hot" setting on our household appliances.

This happy photo brought to you by modern washing machines.

This happy photo brought to you by modern washing machines.

Changing Gears for April

Hello, readers - it's update time!

As of today, I met my goal of three submissions before the end of the month. Yay! I have actually already received one rejection (boo) - but it was a good rejection - one of those that invited me to submit more, in a non-cookie cutter feeling way.

I went to a virtual class last weekend on the importance of having an author's platform. While I (obviously) already have a website and Facebook page, I also discovered both that what I already have needs some work, and there are some other parts of my potential platform that need to be fleshed out. Since I still don't really have a good grasp on which large project I want to work on next, I have decided that I will change gears for April and work on my platform.

This actually works out because Elianna will be out of school for the next week and a half, and I'm experimenting with redoing my writing schedule now that she's out of physical therapy. Working on my platform isn't going to require the same kind of focus that a large scale writing or editing project would (not that it doesn't need focus, just not the same sort of long stretches of uninterrupted flow).

During this time, I also may be posting here or on social media with questions specifically regarding my platform (what do you think of this photo? this color scheme? etc.) so be on the lookout for opportunities for feedback!

Rest

Every Easter... or maybe it was Palm Sunday... anyway, one weekend near Easter/Passover every year, we always used to watch The Ten Commandments when it was broadcast on a major TV network (I mean, it doesn't get better than Charlton Heston and Yul Brenner snarking at each other).

There's a scene where Moses (Heston) takes mercy on a stone cutter who hit an overseer in order to save an old woman. Moses, being a Good Boss, has a discussion about what the Hebrew slaves need to work better, rather than just taking "Master Butcher" Vincent Price at his word that they are lazy and expendable. The stonecutter mentions extra food and a day of rest. "A day of rest!" echoes the crowd in awe, as though he just suggested they all be given their weight in gold. Moses grants them the food, and the day of rest, and the Egyptians harp on this for while.

This was unprecedented. If you were a worker, you worked. That's what you did. The idea of taking a day off for rest, for contemplation, that just wasn't done.

Not trying to get super religious here, but there is something to the "remember the Sabbath day and keep it Holy" commandment. When was the last time you took a day off - really took a day off, where you did nothing, or only did things that relaxed or rejuvenated you?

I've recently been trying to be more aware of giving myself down time - time to relax, time to think, time to do nothing and just let my brain go. It's hard. I am the sort of person that I'm ALWAYS doing something. But I'm trying to take a few minutes in the evening to just sit quietly with my eyes closed. I made it three minutes last night! : D

We as a society need to be better about resting. We've gotten it into our heads that if you're doing nothing, if you're not being "productive," you're "lazy." But your body and your brain need time to rest, to relax, to do nothing.

I commit to doing nothing for at least four minutes today - who's with me?

Put the Band on Stage

The past couple days I've been thinking a lot about theatre. Specifically, songs I've listened to have triggered a need to choreograph and/or design. Listening to "Rock Around the Clock," I was thinking about choreography for Grease (particularly egregious, as I turned down an offer to choreograph said show...). Today, driving to Elianna's appointment, my randomizer brought up “Prologue/Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof and oh... my brain wouldn't shut off.

"Hey. Hey!" my brain said, "What if some of the band were up on stage with the rest of the villagers? What if you hid instruments in the props? Have a mama or a daughter with a tambourine disguised as an embroidery loop. And banging kitchen implements! Oh! And have a papa or a son with a xylophone hidden by an anvil!"

And it kept going. I was brain storming all kinds of props - house and farm implements that could be turned into instruments, or vice versa. Thinking about how to costume everyone. Wondering if we could get away with having an alto woman in a beard playing the Rabbi (there are never enough guys for shows). Heck, can we have the whole band in costume on stage?

Then I started thinking about what other shows you could have the band on stage. When I was in college, we did Cabaret and the band was in costume as the club's band. When I was in high school, we did Anything Goes, and the band all had fancy music stands so they looked like the ship's band. They all had a big moment where they reacted to the news that there was a wanted criminal on board. "SNAKE-EYES JOHNSON?!" the whole band cried in unison. And what about Grease? Put all the band in letter sweaters. Or do period marching band costumes.

And, yeah, I know it increases the costume budget - suggesting period marching band costumes is probably not the way to get the producer or director to agree to having the band in costume on stage.

But Fiddler? Yeah, you could probably do it with Fiddler - raid thrift stores for peasant shirts, old "dress" shirts, floppy pants, broomstick skirts, aprons... Grab surplus fabric for cheap to make head scarves for the ladies. Small throw blankets make great shawls. While that's not the most historically accurate way to do it, I feel that Fiddler is one of those that can be costumed partly from what the cast already owns. Which is probably why I see a lot of community theatres doing it.

I just like the idea of including the band in stage when you can - for a lot of shows, I feel that it adds something.

I also think that if I ever were to get back into theatre, I'd likely be doing costuming or choreography. Possibly directing. I have a feeling that if Elianna ends up getting into theatre that I will definitely get dragged back in. Now I'm reminded of the time I did costumes for our high school's production of I Never Saw Another Butterfly. I was also in the show, and was still madly sewing stars of David onto sweaters and shawls backstage during final dress rehearsal. I accidentally sewed my own sweater to my skirt and had to hobble out onto stage clutching my sweater to my knee. Yeah, let's not do THAT again : )

Where to Draw the Line

How do you define a generation, an era? (No, don't start singing RENT.)

We look back at history and have made neat little red lines at events and dates: the Ancient world ends with the Fall of Rome. The modern world begins with Columbus "discovering" America in 1492. The Protestant Reformation begins with Martin Luther nailing a piece of paper to a church door. Right? Well, not really.

Every so often something comes along that defines a generation or an era. Often, this is the sort of thing that at the time people might or might not recognize it's significance (man landing on the moon or the Kennedy assassination vs. the first time a fax or an email was sent, for example). But it seems like we've had a lot of them in my lifetime: 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the 2008 recession, or the entire dumpster fire that was 2020. And that's just since I've been an adult - what about the fall of the USSR or the Berlin Wall?

20 years from now, 50, 100, will we look back on one of these events as the moment that propelled us into a different era? What will be call that era? Post-9/11? The Great Climate Shift? After COVID?

I don't know the answer, but it's fun to guess, to speculate. I have a story that I want to write that takes place far enough in the future that time is now counted from a different, more recent event (as opposed to our current AD/CE numbering). It's approximately 500 PT. What's PT? Post-terrestrial era.

We like to think we have these nice, neat lines, these dividers on the timeline. But really, we don't. Rome didn't fall in a day, and people didn't suddenly look around and say, "well, I guess I better quit being ancient - that was SO last year."

And my post-terrestrial era? It's counted from the moon landing in 1969. (1970 being 1 PT.) Does that mean that instantly everyone was living in outer space in 1970, just like in the Jetsons? No, of course not. But you have to draw the line somewhere.

So, where do you draw the line in your life? What point do you look at and say, "After this point, everything was different."? For my parents, it might be Kennedy or the Moon Landing. A year or two ago there were certain events I might have picked. But I think now for a lot of us it will be that March 13, 2020 was the day it all changed.

Book Review: Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan

I bought this book in a giftshop in Orkney, after Jason and I saw John Rae's memorial in the nearby St. Magnus Cathedral.  I was intrigued by the idea of an explorer whose work was pushed down and forgotten simply because he reported facts that rubbed the bigwigs in the wrong way.  I had actually been putting this one off for a while, though - another non-fiction book about Scottish history that I picked up on our trip was drier than I had hoped and I was concerned this might be, too.  Fortunately, I was wrong - Oh, my goodness, John Rae was a character!

So, imagine this.  You work hard.  It's a demanding job, but you love it.  You're willing to work with a team, provided everyone does their share of the work; in fact, you generally work even harder than some of the people on your team so that you can ensure success.  You keep asking your supervisor for time off (it IS hard work, after all) and they keep hedging.  Your job doesn't leave you time for a love life and you're not getting any younger. People on your team complain, "that's not my job."  They don't follow your directions and someone gets hurt.  But you finally finish that big project - the one you've been working toward for so long... and someone else gets the credit.  You make honest reports and no one believes you - or worse, cast you as an attention seeker.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet John Rae, mid-nineteenth century Arctic explorer.  He's just like you.  Actually, he's cooler than you, but we'll get to that.

Who watched the TV show The Terror?  It was on AMC a couple years ago and was based on the novel of the same name.  The novel was inspired by the true events of the Franklin Expedition, a mid-nineteenth century British expedition to find the final link in the Northwest Passage.  The book and show take what little we know about the expedition - that the ships were trapped in ice and, presumably, the whole crew died - and expands into some supernatural scariness (and the show in and of itself is worth a watch if it's still available out there).  How did we find out what happened to the Franklin Expedition?  John Rae.

But let's back up.  The book Fatal Passage begins with plucky John Ray, a 19-year-old newly graduated surgeon from Orkney*, Scotland.  He set off for Canada, to join the Hudson's Bay Company.  The HBC was a company of traders and explorers in arctic Canada and had been heavily involved, along with the British navy, in charting as-yet-unmapped areas and searching for a navigable passage from the Northern Atlantic to the Northern Pacific (the Northwest Passage).

*Fun fact - people from Orkney are called Orcadians, which I think is flippin' fantastic.

Rae gleefully spent the next several years getting to know the arctic landscape; learning native hunting, building, and dressing styles; and snowshoeing across hundreds of miles in the winter just for kicks.  He started as a "surgeon" (comparable to a nurse practitioner today) and worked his way up the ranks as a general Jack of all trades, eventually becoming Chief Factor (director) of a major trading post (called a "factory" at the time).  He was well-respected by peers and supervisors, as well as by French fur traders, and native and mixed-race locals.

Not only that, Rae was rather progressive.  He was incredibly vocal in how much he admired the natives' (mainly Inuit, but some Cree, Ojibwe, and other groups) ingenuity, and thought that "half-breeds" (mixed-race European and Native American) were the best men that could be had for any job.  He also made notes in his own correspondence that he does not use the term "half-breed" as an insult, as many do.

Rae was eventually tasked with exploring uncharted coastline in search of the Northwest Passage, which everyone and his brother was doing those days.  Rae usually put together his own team.  It was usually comprised of just as many natives and half-breeds as full-Brits, as they were used to the terrain, the weather, the work, etc.  In fact, the only time he used naval officers that he was told he had to use rather than men he chose was the only expedition in which anyone died - which was EXTREMELELY unusual for 19th century arctic expeditions.  Rae was not only the first European explorer to winter in the Arctic "Native style," but also the first European to winter in the Arctic without losing a member of his team.  Given that his teams were usually much smaller (10 or so hardy men) that the large HBC and naval expeditions (100-200 sailors, often with no Arctic experience), this is really saying something.

Rae relished the work early on.  He loved snowshoeing and hunting - he considered "a long day's march in snowshoes is about the finest exercise a man can take."  He enjoyed living off the land and taking as few supplies as possible.  (This man often slept outdoors in the Arctic on a sleeping skin with one blanket.  I get cold in a 72-degree house with 2 blankets.)  He didn't shy away from doing MORE than his share of the work: shooting the majority of the food his group would eat, taking meticulous weather and geological measurements, trying to thaw his frozen Complete Works of William Shakespeare, and sleeping in his own individual igloo* rather than with the rest of his team for warmth because all the others were smokers.

*The term used in the book is "ice hut,” but I wanted to use igloo this first time to indicate the native-style building.

His most successful journey - the one in which he not only discovered the last link in the Northwest Passage (a strait later named for him) but also was the first to encounter anyone with knowledge of and artifacts from the doomed Franklin expedition. 

Having returned to his summer mooring, after having spent much of the winter trekking around and mapping - he was approached by natives who had cutlery and other items, some of which had very distinct initials and the family crest of Sir John Franklin himself.  He paid the natives well for these items, and interviewed the entire group separately, using his trusted interpreter (even though he himself spoke some of the Inuit language).  They all reported the same thing - a couple years prior (approximately five years after the Franklin expedition set sail) they had seen a group of ragtag white men (none in this group had ever seen Europeans before) dragging a boat like a sled, and heading south.  Later, another group of natives had reported to them that they had found the remains of this group - all dead, but many having been mutilated.  Rae came to the same conclusion as his second-hand witnesses - the last survivors of the Franklin expedition had resorted to butchering and eating their dead companions. 

Torn, Rae debated whether he should return to the area that the Natives had indicated to confirm the story.  But it would require back-tracking quite a long distance (ironically, the strait he discovered was quite close to where the doomed encampment lay).  It was too late in the season for him to make that trek and return while his route back to "civilization" (in this case a rural fort) was still navigable.  Many of the waterways he was using were ice-blocked for 10-11 months out of the year - basically, if you weren't traveling in August you were out of luck. 

In the end, he made the decision based on the state of his team.  Two of his men were very badly worse for the wear - one had frozen off two toes and could barely walk, let along keep up the strenuous pace needed to get to the Franklin crew site and back before winter set in and they had to hole up in ice huts, and hope that they had enough supplies. 

It was a difficult decision for him, but he ultimately decided that he would not risk his men's lives, especially since it was now all but impossible that Sir John Franklin or any of his men had survived.  There were other rescue expeditions out there, too, and they deserved to know the truth so they could also decide how much of a risk they were still willing to take for what now was not a rescue mission, but one to confirm the location of the bodies.

Rae, an honest man who was always meticulous in detailed record-keeping, wrote a very thorough letter to his superiors.  Unbeknownst to him at first, it was then sent to London and published by the Times.  And then... oh, the scandal!  Even though Rae had made clear what had happened, he still euphemized, still skirted using gory language.  He reported that the "the state of the bodies and the contents of the kettles" indicated that the last few survivors had been forced to use "the last resort." 

Still, Victorians knew how to read between the lines and they were most definitely not happy.  What, cannibalism?  Not, not our fine British officers!  The kindest opinions toward Rae were along the lines of, Oh, this poor Orkney yokel, poor naive man, taken in by the lies of the nasty, tricksey savages*. General opinion, however, was even more harsh.  Many speculated that Rae himself fabricated the story to tarnish the reputation of Sir John (who, honestly, was a less-than-stellar explorer and politician anyway) so that he could get the reward money.  Rae hadn't even known there'd been a reward until he traveled to London after the letters had already been published - without his knowledge.

*The assumption that any and all natives will lie whenever they get the chance is something consistently repeated in the articles and letters of the time and is REALLY uncomfortable to read.  Rae, to his credit, defended his interpreter and the natives - going to so far as noting that the one time his interpreter tried to lie about something when he was much younger (Rae had known him for over a decade at this point) that he had been absolutely dreadful at it because he had never lied before.

Chief among Rae's detractors was Lady Franklin, who for years had refused to believe her husband was dead (this news coming ten years after he had last been seen), and of course was appalled at the insinuation that her husband might have been among those final men desperate enough to eat their fellows (documents were found during another expedition that eventually confirmed he had died before the ships had become ice-locked and therefore couldn't have been one of the cannibalistic "survivors").  She continued to send out search parties - funding many of them in large part herself.  She continued to smear Rae's name to the point that several other explorers were credited with his discoveries including, most egregiously, Franklin himself. 

There was quite a bit of arguing of semantics.  Should the discoverer of the passage be the person who found and theorized that passage was navigable?  Should it be the first person to traverse it on foot?  In the latter instance, Franklin's crew was credited for a while on the assumption that they had dragged their boat over the frozen last link in the passage before they died.  Other explorers were credited with finding other passages that would later turn out to not be navigable with nineteenth-century ships.  This is how they treated the man who not long before was their go-to for any Arctic expedition - "Oh Rae's in that quarter, Rae will do that." 

Interestingly, while the British continually tried to downplay his achievements, even question his sanity for "going Native" and using Inuit methods of survival rather than "tried and true" modern techniques, the Norwegian explorers of the same period seemed to appreciate Rae much more - "This guy!  This guy knows what's going on!" (Ok, that's not an actual period quote.)  In fact, it was a Norwegian explorer in the first decade of the 20th century who finally successfully navigated the Northwest Passage, using Rae's route - 50 years after he discovered it, and after so many others had died trying to disprove Rae's journey.

Rae himself eventually retired from the HBC, married, and gave up Arctic exploration.  His last excursion was an exploration of the Canadian Rockies to determine the best route for a telegraph line.  He took his wife along for part of the journey, which was extremely unusual for the time.

Rae was a really interesting guy.  Even after his retirement, he kept active - hunting and hiking.  It was not unusual for him, even in his 70's, to walk 20 miles to the train station.  He lived to be nearly 80 years old.  He kept a massive collection of Inuit artifacts, referring to the native people as "my friends the Esquimaux.*" He was progressive man, a man ahead of his time.  He understood that smoking was unhealthy, and theorized that scurvy was caused by "lack of something [the body] gets from vegetables" decades before vitamins were discovered.  He was a man who respected and admired Native Americans - to the point that he not only paid those on his teams well, but usually provided them more pay than originally contracted once they returned due to how arduous the work was.  He was so progressive that at times while reading the book, I chuckled to myself, "Huh.  Wonder if he was a time traveler."  It kind of wouldn't surprise me.

*We know now that "eskimo" is a Cree slur that means "snow-eater," but Rae didn't know that.

All (actual) quotes are from Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan, who himself is usually quoting Rae's own correspondence.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate.  Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate. Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney.  Rae is buried in the church yard in the back.  No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney. Rae is buried in the church yard in the back. No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.

The Shortest Month

February being the shortest month - and for a couple years in a row it was also the month we had doggy drama going on - I have historically not gotten much done in February. But not so this month! Yay!

First, to address my progress on goals:

-I've stuck well to my writing schedule, with the exception of the week that Elianna's school was out for mid-winter break. (Though that week we did have our physical therapy appointment, so that gave me a free chunk of time one afternoon, which I did make use of.)

-I have submitted two stories for publication, putting me 2/3 of the way to my goal of tree submissions by the end of March.

-This will be my third weekly blog post this month. I did miss a week, and another week I did what was mainly a rehash of an old post. So not stellar.

-While I have not put much thought into what long project to work on next, I did write a new short story this month.

Not part of my goals, but also progress worth noting - I'm starting to get my motivation back. I've been struggling with my motivation to write for probably two solid years now. Two years ago, we found out that Baldur had terminal cancer, so that, of course, killed my motivation to do anything but spend time with him. And of course having a newborn, and then post-partum depression is not conducive to getting things done. I'm also starting to notice that, while winter's lack of light didn't used to affect me, it seems to now. Don't know if this is an age thing, but I've felt very unmotivated this winter, even when Elianna's been in school and after the holiday rush was over. But now that the weather is improving, the days are getting longer... it seems like my motivation is ticking up, so that's good.

In addition to the afore-mentioned short story, I've been thinking about other pieces more, too. Just in the past two days I've gone into great detail with two friends about four stories I'm wanting to write (some longer than others). Just talking about it, getting their feelings and feedback has made me feel good, and made me want to do more. I'm also constantly jotting down notes for a fifth - new - story. (Technically it's not new - I took elements I liked from a problem story and combined them with a new idea that I didn't have a whole plot for, and now I think I have a good, solid plot with much better character dynamics.)

So, that's what I'm up to. What have you crammed into your shortest month?

Wa-wa - Wow!

A few months ago, I wrote a post about Elianna's linguistic abilities and about how she was approaching the age that Helen Keller was when she lost her sight and hearing. Read that whole post here: https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2020/10/25/words-words-wa-wa

I've been thinking about this a lot recently, partly because Elianna's word usage and attempts have really skyrocketed over the past few weeks. She now regularly says "wa" or "wawa" when she wants her water cup. She even says "wow!" a lot.

But what is really cool, and also ties back to the Helen Keller story, is that she's now attempting some of our hand signals we use for Athena (aside from just waving at her). She tries a thumbs up for "good girl" but makes a finger gun instead. She tries "I love you," but looks like she's flashing gang signs. But she's working on communicating and now, on the eve of 19 months, I am so proud of my little girl and still so glad that a simple childhood fever can be treated rather that stealing her from me.

“I love you” in sign language.

“I love you” in sign language.

Gotcha!

Nine years ago, Jason, his sister, and I went to Cobb County Animal Shelter. Jason had decided he was ready to get a dog, and he wanted to make sure whatever dog he got liked the people he spent a lot of time with.

We went in with a few dogs in mind that we had looked at on the website. We walked around, comparing our list to the ID numbers on kennels, not really super thrilled with our interactions - we just hadn't felt that spark yet. Then we came to the dog that we had ranked the lowest on our list (mainly because he was a little bigger than what we were thinking we wanted). We stopped in front of this medium sized, golden dog. He was the only dog in the whole warehouse-sized room that wasn't barking; he was just sitting quietly, watching. Even through we weren't supposed to, we reached through the fencing to pet him. He was quiet and sweet - almost timid. We were going to move on and look at the last dog on our list before coming back to take a couple - this one included - to the play room to get to know them better. But as we moved away, this quiet golden boy stood up on his hind legs, putting his paw through the fence, very obviously begging us, "don't go!" And that was it. That was the spark. Jason went to get an attendant to unlock the kennel while Paige and I stayed with "Cashew."

We took him to the playroom, but we already knew. After a while of playing with him, the attendant asked if we wanted to take him back and check another dog, but we were ready to adopt our boy. He never went back to that kennel. As Jason filled out the paperwork, several of the staff and volunteers came by to say goodbye to Cashew and wish him luck - apparently he was a favorite among the workers.

We took our quiet sweet boy home - and as soon as we got him out in the kitchen, he tackled me and started licking my ears. When it was time for me to head home that evening, I had the hardest time leaving. It had taken our boy - now Baldur - a while to get used to the idea that he had his own pillow to lay on. Jason and I had had to lay down on the floor with our heads on opposite corners of the pillow. He curled up between us and fell asleep. Tearing myself away from by boys was heart wrenching. I just wanted to stay there on the floor with them forever.

Our boy was so special. Everyone loved Baldur - he won over people who didn't like "big" dogs, and even people who were nervous around dogs. He was gentle with puppies, cats, babies, and guinea pigs. He would find the biggest dog at the dog park - 2-3 times bigger or taller than him - and gleefully body slam into them. (Imagine a Great Dane the size of a small horse looking down at this coffee table sized dog with a confused, "Do I know you?" expression.)

Everyone loved Baldur... and Baldur loved everyone. And we think that Baldur loved the tiny little sounds and movements in my stomach so much that he came back after he died to check on his baby sister.

Elianna - who was born three and a half months after we lost her brother - has always had a very odd connection to our Baldur memorabilia. We have a pillow with his picture on it that always calmed her down when she was colicky. She used to chat at the stuffed corgi on the shelf in her nursery. My mom has made her some little stuffed Baldur toys to nap with and to take to the doctor.

Recently, Elianna was at her very first dentist appointment. As expected of an 18 month old, she got upset by masked strangers poking at her mouth. She snuggled her Baldur the whole time and, according the dentist, actually did pretty well for her age. As a pediatric dentist, who I imagine is used to seeing teddies and lovies, dolls and blankies, she asked, "what's your doggie's name?" She was impressed that Elianna's stuffed toy had such a creative name - "if my kids had that doggie, he would probably just be 'Doggy' or 'Brown Doggy.'" I laughed and said that most of our toys were named that way too, and then told her Baldur's story. She and the nurse were rapt over the tale - Dr. Drew even saying she got chills when I said that the Baldur pillow had always calmed Elianna down without fail.

To my surprise, as we were gathering up our coats, Elianna held Baldur out to the dentist. Dr. Drew took him and very carefully made a big show of laying him down under the exam light, and touching his mouth with the pick and mirror she had used to check Elianna's teeth. "Oh, yes, Baldur has lots of nice strong teeth," she said, "you must take very good care of him!"

Even though Jason and I obviously miss our boy very much, we've come to terms with the idea that something of him lingers. Maybe he's a ghost. Maybe he's Elianna's guardian angel. But whatever term we put on it, Baldur - we still gotcha, buddy.

e and B 2.jpg
At least someone still gets to snuggle with Baldur.

At least someone still gets to snuggle with Baldur.

January's Almost Over?

Hello, readers!

True to my goals that I posted on New Year's Eve [ https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2020/12/31/goals-for-2021 ], here's my first monthly project update for 2021. Since I had some setbacks and schedule changes, I don't have anything big to talk about and instead will simply go down my goal list and talk about my progress:

-Get back into my writing schedule - Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday mornings. Starting this coming week (January 3).

As I said above, I had some issues to iron out with the schedule. I had chosen the times I did due to Elianna's schedule. She used to have physical therapy on Monday mornings, but we've since adjusted that to every-other Wednesday afternoon. That's fine for the Wednesdays that she does have her appointment - there's no difference between sitting in the car and writing on Monday morning and doing the same on Wednesday afternoon. But losing one day a week (which I shouldn't complain about, she's come a long way), I feel like I need to find another hour-ish slot during the week, and I haven't really sorted that out yet.

I also chose Tuesday and Thursday mornings because Elianna is in school those mornings. But, as I posted about here [ https://www.iveyink.com/blog/2021/1/12/confessions-judgement-and-accountability ], her school was closed for two weeks due to staffing shortages, so I missed out on some of that time. I was able to make up some of it - Jason was off on Martin Luther King Day, so I took some time that day while he watched Elianna, and there was at least one time I was able to get some things done while she was napping. (Unfortunately, she's never had a clockwork nap schedule. Some days - like school and PT days - she can USUALLY be relied on to take a long nap in the afternoon... but not always. Sometimes I just lose writing time and don't get a chance to make it up.)

-Submit either one story to at least three publications, or at least three stories to one publication each by the end of March.

Right now, I have two flash pieces I'm having a group of beta readers look at as I consider a contest for them. I'm also looking into other submission possibilities.

-Resume my weekly blog schedule.

-But within the first couple weeks of the year, examine my current writing schedule and see if I want to move which day I do my blog. (I currently am "supposed" to be posting a blog every weekend, but that hasn't happened in a while.)

Even with the scheduling setbacks above, I've been able to make a blog post every week since New Year's. While they are not precisely weekly (a post each weekend) like I used to do, I've found that typing a post when I have a topic in mind, rather than forcing inspiration on Sunday night seems to be working better for me.

-Resume my monthly project/status updates. Consider this the first. Check!

Woot, here it is!

-Finish rereading Bright Fire by the end of January.

Done!

-By the time I finish the above, decide what work I want to do next on The Wolf and the Sheath.

Today I was going to decide on either something to do with Wolf and Sheath or something to do with one of the two other novels... but between not sleeping well last night and a much needed phone call from a dear friend, I didn't work on writing today (except for finalizing this blog). But, thinking about it off and on yesterday and today, it also occurred to me that maybe for February I should focus on the submissions. This way, I can not spread myself too thin or take on too much while I'm still kind of trying to get back into the swing of my writing schedule.

So, all things considered, I'm doing really well with my goals so far. Sometime in February or March, as I tie up the February submissions and March goals, I'll take a look at how I'd doing and feeling and think about goals for the next few months after that.

Generational Names

Jennifer, Stephanie, Brooke, Lindsey and Brittany, and Megan. Like, omigod, these are, like, totally teenagers, right? Like, for sure.

Charlotte, Cora, Abigail and Agatha, and Ida. These are, in all likelihood, dowager dames of Downton Abbey, or, perhaps, sophisticated suffragettes of the previous century.

They're not?

There's a thing about names - how a name holds a connotation of generation and personality. I made a post several years ago about how, given the popularity of old Welsh names in the 80's and 90's I had to be careful choosing Welsh-based names for one of my stories - no one's going to accept The Dread Dark Lord Dylan.

Of course, these connotations change with time. When your grandmothers and great grandmothers were named Elizabeth, Margaret, Carol, Martha, Esther, and Lillie, those names seem old fashioned or traditional. But when Elianna's grandchildren are old enough to think about these things, names like Zoe, Riley, Everly, Avery, and Luna, will seem "old" and "stodgy," and who knows what will be hip and trendy at the dawn of the 22nd century?

But back to my lists at the beginning, the list of names that feels teenagery to me, because these were the names of the popular girls when I was a teenager - these are professionals. The Jennifers are the head of the foreign language department, and the head of graduate studies at a university. The Stephanies are an academic advisor and a doula. Brooke is a pediatrician. Lindsey and Brittany are teachers. Megan is a doctor of physical therapy.

And the "dowager dames?" They're babies. Charlotte is 2 1/2. Cora is turning 2. Abigail and Agatha are a little over 1 1/2. Ida is 6 months old. But maybe there's something to these "suffragette" names - these little girls will be the movers and shakers, the leading ladies of the next generation. Move over, Megan. Step aside, Stephanie - Ida and Cora have some changes to make.

Sometimes the Theatre Creeps Back In

A few days ago, I woke up with a production concept in my head. I don't know why, but this just happens on occasion. Sometimes I just wake up, or I'm driving, or whatever, and I have an idea for sets or costumes for a play.

I should clarify that this isn't an idea of a NEW play that I'm going to write. This is more "if I were directing X show, if I were the costume or set designer for Y show."

Back a year or two ago I had some ideas for costumes for R2D2, C3PO, and Yoda for William Shakespeare's Star Wars. A while ago I had an idea to do Chicago with Billy Flynn played by a woman and how her costumes would look.

Last week's dream was a production theme for the stage version of Little Women. It started with the set - a bare stage with a wooden back wall. A clothesline is strung across the wall. A grip - a woman in dark period dress - comes out and hangs a stocking (as in, a single leg long sock, not a Christmas stocking) on the line for each of the girls - something plain and practical for Meg, either a bold color or stripes for Jo, black lace trimmed for Beth, and delicate pink lace for Amy. Each act change or scene change, the clothes line gets changed out - vintage "tin type" style portraits, bunches of flowers for Meg's wedding, photos of the 1870 New York skyline when Jo visits the city... and the hook designated as Beth's stays empty after she dies.

It's a simple set. Going with the idea of the "wild theatricals" the girls put on in the attic, it's the sort of set teenage girls during the Civil War could cobble together - trunks, crates, a few simple props - and all brought out by either the actresses themselves, or costumed grips.

I haven't been involved in a theatrical production since I moved back to Georgia in 2007 (unless you count the Christmas pageant I wrote for my parents' church around that time). I majored in theatre but, aside from ghost tours and children's story times, I haven't done anything with that major. But sometimes the theatre creeps back in.

I guess you can take the girl out of the theatre, but you can't take the theatre out of the girl.

Time for that ever-fun game, “Can I Costume a Show Using Only Stuff from My Own Closet?”

Time for that ever-fun game, “Can I Costume a Show Using Only Stuff from My Own Closet?”

Confessions, Judgement, and Accountability

A couple days ago (in fact, the day that I posted my last blog), I decided that this week I wanted to talk about why I'm still struggling with my writing schedule. But in order to fully explain that situation, I have to talk about something I'd been keeping relatively quiet. It's not a secret, per se, but it is something I haven't brought up because it's become a divisive topic in the past year.

Elianna is in pre-school.

Since the shut downs started last March and April (oh my god, has it been ten months? Oh my god has it ONLY been ten months...), Jason and I struggled with whether or not to start Elianna in a mother's morning out program. Since I don't work, we didn't want a full daycare program (even though the daycares in our area are incredibly stellar). We wanted something that would give me a couple hours off a couple days a week, and something to get her socializing.

At her nine month appointment last April (oh my god, she was only nine months last April?) we expressed our joint concerns to her pediatrician - what about COVID exposure? But what about stunting her social growth? What about her lagging gross motor skills, and what about vocabulary skills, which are generally things that being exposed to other children helps them pick up?

We started looking into schools "late." I was really depressed last winter; I didn't start to come out of that 'til February, and that's when we started looking - and that's also generally after most schools start enrollment. We found a school we seemed to like - a local preschool that came VERY highly recommended. I scheduled a tour, knowing that if we liked it we'd be on the waiting list. But I was kind of OK with that - it gave us time to think, consider infection rates, talk to Elianna's doctor, etc., before school started in August.

I went on the tour on March 12. I was impressed with their precautions - sanitizing, distancing, keeping any kids in the hallways walking neatly against one wall - and asking us to keep our distance from the students and not approaching the open classroom doors. Jason was impressed with their security measures, and I had gotten a really good feeling from the ladies leading the tour - including the director, who lives two houses down from me.

That evening, I added Elianna to the waiting list. The next morning - Friday the 13th - I received an email from the school, saying that due to COVID they would be shutting down indefinitely, but they would be in contact with us over the summer regarding waiting lists, reopening, and any new procedures they might implement to help mitigate the spread of the virus. (Spoiler alert - it was seven pages of new health safety procedures.) It honestly just made me feel better about our choice to send Elianna to school there. This was two weeks before Georgia's governor issued stay-at-home orders, and three days before the White House had their big press release on "Flattening the Curve."

We felt good, personally, about our decision - especially after receiving updates on new procedures throughout the summer, and sharing them with our doctor. But I hadn't talked about it except to just family and a few close friends, because how to handle kids in school during the pandemic has been SO divisive. I don't like pissing people off, I don't like getting pissed off, and I didn't have the time for people's judgment.

My sister, who gave birth to her first child in July, and who is a 5th grade teacher, has had the same struggle, times ten. Both of us constantly wonder - am I doing the right thing for my child? for my mental stability? what about the teachers and caregivers? We both have heard the "you're a terrible parent because you're sending your child to school in person/keeping your child home for online learning" and "you're a terrible person - you're putting your child's needs ahead of the health of teachers and caregivers." I'll be the first to admit that I've been judgy of friends' and neighbors' choices with their children this past school year - but I try to keep it quiet. I try not to bash people's personal decisions on social media. I try to be supportive when I can - and silent when I can't.

Which brings me around to why I'm breaking my silence about Elianna's school.

I've been trying to get back into writing. I arranged my schedule so that I work on my writing on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, while Elianna is at school. (Recently I've also been able to add about 45 minutes while she's in physical therapy, but since she's improving and we're dropping down on the frequency of her sessions, that schedule is changing now, too.)

However, late last Friday, Cherokee Schools announced that, due to the number of teachers either currently sick with COVID, or quarantining due to exposure, they no longer had the staffing for in person classes (yes, not even a full week after coming back from Christmas), they would be going virtual at least this week. Elianna is not in public school - but the children of many of the staff at her preschool are. Over the weekend, we got an email from her school letting us know that her class would not meet this week due to staffing issues. Further, if Cherokee remains closed, it's likely her school will also have to close. And while they do have a plan in place for digital learning that means that, 1. I'm still having to supervise Elianna during the time I would normally have while she's at school and, 2. I don't know how much digital learning you can really do with 18-month-olds.

So... there it is.

And, yes, I know most people don't give a hoot whether I'm meeting my writing schedule. But I give a hoot. I feel the need for accountability. But that accountability required an explanation.

Elianna and her class, the last day before Christmas.(All photos are by her teachers.)

Elianna and her class, the last day before Christmas.

(All photos are by her teachers.)

Elianna and her best bud on the playground.

Elianna and her best bud on the playground.

Elianna loves school!  (This was taken the same day as the “Grump on a Tractor” incident…)

Elianna loves school! (This was taken the same day as the “Grump on a Tractor” incident…)

Volume Revolution

Jason and I recently finished watching the second season of The Mandalorian, which I imagine many of you have watched as well (don't worry if you haven't - no spoilers here!). Around the time we finished, a friend of ours recommended we watch the documentaries about the behind the scenes stuff.

As a theatre major, I always enjoy watching things about how the sets or costumes were made, how effects were created, etc. - and Jason enjoys that, too. Plus, rather than one long making-of documentary, it is conveniently broken up into little 30-minute mini documentaries. (Jason and I often have difficulties finding a long stretch of time to watch longer things together.)

So far, we've only watched one of the four behind the scenes specials; we watched The Volume. The episode was not, as I would have guessed by the title, about the sound mixing or music, but rather about a revolutionary new space that they used for the filming. The space itself is called The Volume. It's a studio, a soundstage - in a way you've never seen one before. If you've ever been to the cyclorama in Atlanta, you may have an inkling of what this space is like.

The Volume is surrounded by screens - screens on the ceiling, and 360 degrees around. Rather than using green screen - actors standing in front of obnoxiously-colored empty space, pointing at an approaching monster that has yet to be built - the film crew uses a video game engine* to project the fully-designed, fully-realized scenery all around the actors. The actors are immersed in the world as fully as though they were on location - with the obvious advantage that, even though this technology is new and was expensive to build, you only have to set it up once, rather than flying actors, crew, and equipment to various distant locales.

*Ask someone who knows abut video games what a "video game engine" is, if you want more info on that - I only have a vague notion of how it works.

Hearing the actors speak in awe of this new way of filming, how it completely changes everything and makes their immersion more complete and their performances better, it made me wonder what this might do for the cinema audience. Watching the documentary, I was immediately struck at how the Volume reminded me of rides as Disney and Universal; a fully-immersive world that the rider travels through. I thought of how you might create a ride, an experience with this technology - and have millions of tourists flock to experience it and charge large sums of money for the privilege. Then I recalled an article I had recently read about a TV show Disney+ was looking to reboot.

In the article, the writer came right out and said that cinema was dead, that the film industry will not recover from the pandemic (citing shorter length streaming content as the new entertainment medium of choice). But seeing this documentary, I don't think that's true.

Oh, yes, it will take a while to come back from this. But what if we change the cinematic experience? What if we take the Volume, what if we take the movie theatres that are closing - and remake them. What if we start making film in the round? What if we take the big blockbuster-type movies - the sort of stuff you're already used to paying a little more to go see in 3D or Imax - and make it a fully immersive experience? The superhero soars over your head as the explosion goes off behind you. This is better than Imax, better than surround sound. You're there. You're in the film.

Can we make it happen? Is this a revolution for cinema?

Goals for 2021

So, first of all, I don't make resolutions anymore; I make goals.

People joke about how quickly they're going to stop trying for their resolutions. To call something a "resolution" is almost to expect it to fail. So I make goals. A term I've come across recently is "SMART" goals - specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-based.

What, specifically, is your goal? (The bridge guardian squawks, "WHAT...is your quest?") It doesn't have to be big, but it does have to be clear. "Be healthier." How? Eat less? Choose low fat foods? Exercise more? How do you specifically define success for this goal, this idea?

How do you measure it? X fewer calories per day? Y more minutes of exercise?

And, really, it has to be something you can do. "I'm going to go to the Olympics for sprinting!" Not achievable for most of us. Running a marathon is also probably not achievable for most of us, honestly. "Increase the amount of time I spend running by five minutes each day," or "run five miles a day by July" is a much better goal - by both measurability and achievability.

And that last line takes us to time-based (yes, skipping relevant for now). How long are you giving yourself to reach your goal? Rome wasn't built in a day. But neither did the builders of the Colosseum say, "eh, I'll get it done one of these days." You have to give yourself a timeline. Adjust it later if you need to. To use one of the above examples, I definitely couldn't run - or even walk - a marathon any time soon. But, I could probably work up to walking or running five miles a day if I gave myself a six or twelve month timeline.

And then there's relevance. You need to make sure your goals are relevant to you. Why are you doing this? "I want to be healthier 'cause my doctor says so," is not a good goal. "I want to lose 20 pounds so I will feel more confident," or "I want to be able to run a marathon because my friend Jim runs marathons and I think it would be fun to do that with him" are better. You're not going to work toward this goal if it doesn't resonate with you.

So what are my goals for this year? Not running, despite using that as an example ; )

I have a few goals I've been kicking around. I've honestly only been thinking about these very recently. I've been meaning to "get back into writing" for a while... but that's vague and not SMART. So here are the goals I've cobbled out as of today:

-Get back into my writing schedule - Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday mornings. Starting this coming week (January 3).

-Submit either one story to at least three publications, or at least three stories to one publication each by the end of March. (See? Time-based.)

-Resume my weekly blog schedule.

-But within the first couple weeks of the year, examine my current writing schedule and see if I want to move which day I do my blog. (I currently am "supposed" to be posting a blog every weekend, but that hasn't happened in a while.)

-Resume my monthly project/status updates. Consider this the first. Check!

-Finish rereading Bright Fire by the end of January.

-By the time I finish the above, decide what work I want to do next on The Wolf and the Sheath.

What are your goals for 2021?