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Trekking to the City that Never Sleeps

American Adventures

One thing that I miss about Italy is being able to jump on a train and go somewhere. Sure, I can still do that here (kind of), wandering about Boston, but I miss those days of looking to my friends and saying, “Let’s go to Cortona this weekend.”

After much planning, I’m headed to New York City for the third time in my life (criminal). Sadly, I’ll only be in the City for one day, but it will be for an amazing reason.

My favorite entirely living band, The Frames, is on tour for their 20th anniversary. As they don’t have a Boston stop, I convinced a couple of friends to head into New York with me. It really didn’t take too much arm twisting.

So, to New York City we are headed.

 

The Joy of the Small Things in Life

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

On October 25, I attended a lecture given by Alexander McCall Smith at the Boston Public Library.

McCall Smith is my favorite living writer, so the opportunity to hear him speak was an amazing opportunity. Apparently he was supposed to speak at the BPL last Spring, but the Volcano Incident kept him in Europe. All the better for me, as I was in Italy and would have been unable to attend the lecture.

His lecture was a funny, touching one, like his books. His main point was one quite close to me, a person on the brink of great wide world: find the joy in the little things in life. It isn’t the great, massive things that ultimately matter. It isn’t the grand adventures that we set out on, not the jobs we hold or how much we make (but I’m sure this helps), rather, it’s those moments of laughter, of friendship, of joy that create our lives. When I look back on my life, while I have had bright, brilliant memories, its those little moments of elation: I don’t remember why we laughing, only that we were, that we were having fun. That we enjoyed ourselves.

It isn’t the drama. It isn’t the news that defines our world, though it certainly impacts us. It’s the people we know and how we spend time with them. It’s that kind hello, that sweet smile. The invitation for a walk, the hug from a friend. That’s what our life is.

These ideas, the idea of friendship, of warmth, of love, are throughout his serial works, from The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency series to 44 Scotland Street. That’s why I love them so much. You care for them, even the ones you didn’t like as much (Bertie’s mother the terrible Irene is one).

The highlights of the evening:

After the lecture, there was a brief question and answer session. I tentatively raised my hand, a thousand questions whirling about. I didn’t expect that I would be picked.

I blanked.

Somehow my mouth managed to say, “Do you laugh while writing your books?”

His response: “Yes. Sometimes my wife knocks on the door and asks me what’s so funny.”

He then recounted a scene in the forthcoming 44 Scotland Street book The Importance of Being Seven, where Bertie meets a boy who collects penknives.

That had me on cloud nine. Seeing my favorite author speak, his answering my question…and a book signing to follow.

Cue waiting in line. There, I chatted with those around me about Alexander McCall Smith’s books, travel and art.

Soon enough, it was my turn to speak briefly with Mr McCall Smith. We spoke no more than a minute or so, in which I thanked him for the speech and answering my question. I told him that his books made me happy and were an inspiration to me as a writer. He inquired about my work, and after I said I had written a novel that “wasn’t terribly good,” he said just to move on to the next one. Simple advice.

It was a pretty awesome night.

I’m still on cloud nine.

Silence. Fearful, Hollow Silence: Sonic Atmosphere in The Exorcist

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

This weekend, I watched the 1973 movie The Exorcist for the first time.

One thing that struck me about the film was the use of silence, the creeping, ever present lack of background accompaniment. The theme played twice (to my recollection), once when Chris is walking past the row of houses when returning from the set, and at the very end of the film.

The lack of an instrumental soundtrack adds to the encroaching foreboding persistent throughout the entire film. I found the quiet, the still, the calm, when contrasted with Regan’s wild, possessed moments, disturbing. It was the sense of waiting, of the knowledge of something darker just around the corner, that the silence portrayed so well.

The scene that struck me most was not one of horror, but one of desperate contemplation. It is the scene where Father Merrin and Father Karras are seated on the stairs, resting after the first round against the demon.  As they sit, deep within their own thoughts, worries and fears, the silence envelopes them. The viewer, who, like the two priests, has just been through the harrowing first part of the exorcism, rests, like them. The silence that surrounds the priests surrounds the viewer as well, a perfect mirror.

Just earlier that day, I was listening to one of the music channels. On the bottom of the page, the phrase “Choose Your Mood, On Music Choice” appeared. This seemingly innocuous phrase made my mind run.

The Exorcist does a good job of effecting one’s mood, even with the minimal soundtrack. The silence that permeates throughout the film gives a sense of alienation, heightened isolation.

The visuals, too, add a stark quality to the film that mirrors the lack of sound. The colors are muted. The set decoration is largely minimal. Much of the action surrounding Regan takes place in either hospitals or in her frighteningly Spartan room. Even the basement, often a site of clutter for many families, is eerily bare.

As a writer, this stark, empty, disconcerting quiet had me thinking about creating atmosphere in my writing. How would I go about conveying that encroaching, crushing quiet? My thought is minimal dialogue, short sentences, descriptive ones. Something to explore!

Note on the title: It sounds painfully academic. I’ve been doing research for my two theses–one is on The Prisoner, which has been somewhat documented here. The other is about Psycho and that’s the first mention of it.

30 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-six

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

26. Let’s talk art! Do you draw your characters? Do others draw them? Pick one of your OCs and post your favorite picture of him!

Do I draw my characters? Were the Red Sox cursed?

Well, yes, yes I do. I’ve drawn my characters for as long as I can remember. I’ve kept all of my old sketchbooks, and some, like Geoffrey, pop up every so often throughout those.

Fortunately, I don’t have my old sketchbooks with me, so you shan’t have to view any of those atrocious images. I’ll spare you that.

Alas, most of my favorite pictures of characters are in my sketchbooks, so you’ll have to make due with a few that I’ve got stored on my computer. They aren’t my favorites, but I like them nonetheless.

 

 

(C) Beth

 

Peter (2010)

And I’ll add more later…

 

Characterization Through Discovery

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

One thing that stays consistent about my writing, no matter which genre or style I attempt, is that the characters are rarely created. They don’t leap full form from my head, miniature Athenas, constructed perfectly and as I want them to be.

No.

Instead, they exist, dare I say, completely, but I need to discover them. Their quirks, personalities, everything, I can’t really form it. I can only write, slip them into situations and see what happens. Amazingly, most of them succeed in this way. It isn’t just that one of my characters loves to cook; he makes risotto when stressed.

Most times, when I attempt to force characters, they rebel. One of them, a surgeon named Pryce who I came up with for some fantasy Victorian short stories, was supposed to be a real backstabber. He decided that he wasn’t, rather, he was a real sweetheart. And I came up with his counterpart, my version of HG Wells’ Griffin, the Invisible Man, who, despite his invisibility, allows his vanity to reign. Did I know that about either of them when I started writing? No, but I do now.

Writing these characters is discovery. I have to coax these details out them. Some have full fledged opinions that they spit and spew without a second thought. Others are quiet. All are enigmatic. Imagine my surprise when I realized that one character whom I thought was a confirmed bachelor was actually happily married with two daughters. It’s integral to his character.

Sheer Art Attack–my new blog.

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

Don’t worry, I’m not abandoning this one. I’ve been thinking too much about art these days, so I’ve decided that rather than hijacking She Thinks Too Much with posts about it, I’d create a new blog devoted to the discussion of art, both viewing and creating.

You can read it here: Sheer Art Attack.

It’s very much a work-in-progress, I only created it this morning.