Tag Archives: dreams

The Forest of Hands and Teeth- How much is a dream worth?

I totally owe you guys a post about fiction. I’ve been watching Supernatural Season 6 and I’m not sure I’m ready for any kind of coherent verbalization on that yet. But I just finished reading Carrie Ryan’s The Forest of Hands and Teeth yesterday so yay! Something to blog about.

There’s no good book/bad book question here. Pretty sure this is a NYT Bestseller, has a bunch of other awards and accolades, isn’t there talk of a movie?And if you give the book enough of a chance to get into it, it’s clear the author has skills. The writing is vivid and there are passages in the book that are absolutely brilliant. Anyone read it and want to agree with me that the tension between Mary and Travis that night when the Sisters were just outside the door was just incredible?

The basic premise behind the book is that Mary lives in a village that is fenced off from the rest of the world because the rest of the world is peopled with zombies called “The Unconsecrated.” Mary’s people don’t even know if there are still other people left in the world, and, unlike Mary, very few people seem to have a burning desire to know. She’s one of those characters who is driven by a need to know–What’s beyond the fences? Are we the only ones left? Is there really such a thing as the ocean?

Though there were aspects of the book I really liked, I wasn’t the ideal reader for it. First of all, present tense. Arg! I’ve hated present tense since Judy Blume’s Tiger Eyes in the 80s. Present tense narration just feels unnatural to me for storytelling. I hope the rash of it we’ve had in the last few years goes away soon. But, like I said, I’ve read a handful of them recently and I know that I can put that aside, so that wasn’t what really bothered me.

The following discussion may be somewhat spoilery. If you haven’t read it and intend to, consider skipping this post.

When I first finished the book, I thought that my dissatisfaction was because of what happened in the romance between Mary and Travis. It’s a bit of a triangle because Travis is with Mary’s best friend, Cass, and Travis’s brother, Harry, is the one who offers to court Mary. Then it seems like Harry and Cass have a thing and Mary and Travis have a thing, so why don’t they just all talk it out and couple up right, dammit?! That’s frustrating and sometimes annoying, though I have to say that finding out of Mary is ever going to get Travis was definitely something that kept me reading the story.

There’s a point in the story in which Travis seems so important to Mary. But then, when she more or less has him, she doesn’t seem to care. There’s a point in the story in which we find out that nothing, with regard to the young men and their feelings for her and Cass, is quite what Mary thought them to be. To me, this seemed like a revelation. It was a big deal. But by that point in the story, Mary was so freakin’ obsessed this the freakin’ ocean, with strangers in photographs, and with what lies beyond the world she can see–honestly, I don’t think it really penetrated.

I never felt like she felt things enough. Maybe this obsession with the ocean was a defense mechanism against all the chaos brought on by the story, but I didn’t get that. What I got was that Mary just didn’t really care about anything else except Mary and the ocean.

So I was really trying to find a way to like her. I was trying to convince myself that there was heroic nobility in this thing where she had her dream of the ocean. She believed it, no matter how impossible it seemed, and she followed it, no matter how the odds were stacked against her. And that’s really admirable, right?

But I can’t make myself see her as a hero because she I just felt like she put her own needs before everyone else’s to the point where she couldn’t really connect with them. She didn’t really care about them. It wasn’t like she was trying to achieve a dream at great personal cost, because what cost can there be when everything else doesn’t really mean anything to you?

So, like I said, it was a good book, but I wasn’t the right reader. I’m sure there will be people who read it and wonder if we even read the same book. That’s just how reading is. This was my interpretation.

So discuss. Was it just me? Anyone else feel this way about Mary’s character?

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Filed under Superheroes, Heroism, and Romance

The Joy of Being Indie

How long have you spent preparing for your life?

A big part of what I remember about school is being bored, doing work I wasn’t interested in and couldn’t care about, and wanting so much to get out and do and be. And so much of that time, I was being told to be something else. That the things that interested me were so competitive that it wasn’t likely I could ever be successful. Either that or just altogether not worthy of pursuing. What I should do is work harder, get better grades, get into a good college. Why, with my test scores, I could probably be a doctor or a lawyer if I applied myself.

Dudes, have you met me? Read the posts from the last few weeks. I think it takes a little more than brains to be doctor or a lawyer and I ain’t got it.

Outside of the college route, I was told that to be a writer I should go to NY and work for a publishing house. I’m a social phobic. I couldn’t even walk into a restaurant by myself. No way was that going to happen. What I wanted to do was stay where I was, continue in my fabric store job, marry my boyfriend, take in sewing on the side, work on my writing, and just see what-all happened.

And then that pesky National Merit Scholar thing came up, a college offered me four years of tuition, room and board, and a stipend for books, while my friends who actually seemed to want to go to college were scrambling and scraping for funds. Well damn.

I did 4 years of hard time in the frozen wasteland of Western NY. I got a Bachelor’s in Psychology. It didn’t help.

At some point during that time I found out that I was going to have to go to school for another EIGHT years, and God only knows what else before I could sit in a quiet, comfortable room for one-on-one, 50 minute chats, which is what I thought you did with a psych degree. It’s not. It’s what you do with a doctorate. How did I not know this? I don’t know, I was a kid. But that was so not happening.

I went to work in a sweatshop with 200 people who didn’t speak English. There were maybe 5 of us who did at any given time during the 5 years I worked there. We made polo style golf shirts. It’s the kind of thing where you learn one little piece of the process and you do that same bit hundreds of times a day for a few cents per piece. I loved the challenge of that. And then I loved the challenge of learning every operation that went into putting that product together. It was hard work in crappy conditions, but I was young and I was making money at the sewing machine, something I had been told was not a career option.

Yeah, ok, so that was part of it. I’m a rebel and I’ll never, ever, be any good. Sue me.

Besides that, I was alone all day. Alone in a room full of people, machines, and noise. But I didn’t have to interact with anyone for 95% of the day, all I had to do was sew. And my brain was my own. Finally. I could read audiobooks (remember that part where you got out of school and realized you could read anything you wanted to??) or I could just be and think about whatever crazy story I wanted to think about, for eight hours a day, and I got paid for that.

To keep this from being the story of my freakin’ life, I’ll fast forward over carpal tunnel, design school, more retail, and a lot of other crap. We’ll sail years into the future to the point where I’ve retired from my non-career and am at home with a baby, having now achieved a bunch of life goals, and feeling again that need to do and be.

I don’t know why it so often takes me 600 words or so to get into the meat of my posts. I found Etsy and I decided to try something I’d wanted to do for years: make and sell doll clothes. You know how crafting used to be? It wasn’t realistic to try to sell handmade Barbie clothes through traditional crafter venues. But I could sell some on Etsy. It was fun. Some people bought them. And they wrote to me and thanked me.

Would you believe that never happened to me in all the years I had ever worked my ass off for someone else?

I did what I loved to do, people gave me money, and then they said Thank You.

And then a friend said that my skills were worth more than what I could get for Barbie clothes, but people were paying at least three times that much for Blythe clothes. So she sent me a Blythe. And I made some clothes. The Blythe market was getting pretty competitive at the time, and I sold a few things, but no real success. Until I decided to smock.

My Smocked Valentine, the first smocked dress I sold on Etsy

It was an experiment. I sat down with 28 Days Later, because I was working on ideas for a zombie story of sorts, and this was in the days of baby napping time, and I smocked myself a tiny little dress. I was very proud of it. I had the audacity to price it at $23.50, so I was actually as afraid to put it out there as I had been when I first listed at Etsy. (Don’t ask me what I was afraid of. I really don’t know.) I called it My Smocked Valentine because it had hearts, it was the end of January, and I hoped the title would encourage someone to buy it before the end of February.

The freaking thing sold within 10 minutes.

One of my most elaborate designs, "The Spider" had to have its own video.

Every dress I smocked sold within minutes, even though I raised the prices and most of them were between $40-$50. People LOVED my work. They made special requests. They queued up in a seemingly endless special order line just to get one. I LOVED what I was doing. People gave me money. And they thanked me lavishly.

But you guys don’t care really care about dolls and their overpriced couture, so why am I telling you this?

Because it’s been the same thing with the book. Just like I found my niche in a fairly competitive market on Etsy, a lot of putting out a book is just about just getting the damned thing out and then waiting for your customers to find you. I put off, for so long, just freaking doing it and putting something out there. Because I was afraid of the process, because I was afraid of rejection, etc, etc, etc. Second verse, same as the first. And every day it’s out there, it just brings more awesome.

When I got out of high school, I wanted to create things. I wanted to write and I wanted to sew. It’s taken me twenty years to make this leap into finally doing what I really wanted to do in the first place. To get to this place where I know I can make money doing what I love, and where people go out of their way to thank me for it. And maybe I needed all that time to learn and to practice, and for technology come along to help me out. But maybe not. I’ll never know because I didn’t really try.

Part of the point of this post is that I’m finally in a good mood today, and those of you who have slogged through my whiny dramatic crap of the last few weeks really deserve some happy happy sunshine. It don’t happen that often, so soak it up, people.

If you read my blog because you’re thinking about getting back to writing, because you’re thinking about finally finishing that book, or you’re thinking about going indie, just freakin’ do it. If you have a dream, give it a chance. Don’t let being scared make you put off your life. Because there might be good things down that road, and awesome people who smile at you around every corner. That’s how it is in my world, and I appreciate you.

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Filed under insecurities