#Shakespeared

The Utah Shakespeare Festival is one of my favorite summer getaways. Short of purchasing a ticket across the pond, there's no better way to dip your toes in Shakespeare and/or get thoroughly #Shakepeared.

This summer, Henry V, wasn't enough. It wet my appetite but didn't satisfy. A thick volume in the gift shop called The Friendly Shakespeare piqued my interest and set me on the path to discovery. 

As a source for inspiration, there nothing better than Shakespeare. The plays, from comedy to history, are a superb mix of drama and humor, truth and fiction, prose and poetry, romance and tragedy. Reading or viewing Shakespeare will expose you to:

Heroes who act like villains and villains who act heroically. Prince Hal from Henry IV exemplifies debauchery and heroism as he treads the path from from ale house to throne and prince to king.

So when this loose behavior I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My refomation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

Real emotion woven throughout the tales make hundreds of years old feel familiar and relatable. Jealousy, fierce loyalty, true love, infatuation, self-interest, humility, hopelessness. Duke Orsino from Twelfth Night drowns in melancholy due to unrequited love, and like many of us, he wallow in it.

If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die...

Relationships of all types--both healthy and unhealthy--are explored. Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, husbands and wives, sovereigns and subjects, siblings, and the best and worst of friends. Prospero, the magician and one time duke in The Tempest, does much to ensure the happiness of his daughter Miranda.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

Some of the most delicious banter ever written. Like a tennis match where each hit is efficiently lobbed back. Petruchio and Catherine in The Taming of the Shrew and Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing come to mind. I'd love to gift my lovers such wonderful dialogue.

Beatrice: I wonder you will still be talking, Signor 
Benedick, nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath 
such meet food to feed as Signor Benedick?

Shakespeare is timeless. His plots, intrigues, epic romances, and tragedies draw us into another world. From Romeo, Romeo to Out damned spot! he captures our imaginations and feeds our need for both beautiful language and wonderful storytelling.

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If you need a bit o' inspiration, there's always some new interpretation to explore. Here are a few of my new and old favorites (complete with links to Amazon):
The Friendly Shakespeare: A Thoroughly Painless Guide to the Best of the Bard, by Norrie Esptein.
The Tempest, featuring Helen Mirren as Prospera
The Hollow Crown: The Complete Series, featuring Tom Hiddleston as Prince Hal/Henry V
Much Ado About Nothing, directed by Kenneth Branagh
A Midsummer Night's Dream, featuring Rupert Everett as Oberon & Michelle Pfeiffer as Titania
Twelfth Night, featuring Imogen Stubbs & Helena Bonham Carter

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What are your favorites? Leave me a comment and tell me your true feelings about the Bard. (Be warned that if you loathe him entirely, there may be mocking...) I've also embedded links to my own posts on being #Shakespeared through the post. Happy clicking!

Writer SuckFest 2015

It happened with Becoming Beauty even before it was Becoming Beauty and I'm fairly certain it's happened with all my other projects as well. As I struggle with feelings of doubt, I find myself asking: do established authors feel like this too? Was there a moment when Shakespeare thought Romeo and Juliet was drivel? Or a time when Jane Austen wanted to chuck Mr. Darcy and all the Bennets into the fire? I may be going out on a limb, but I'm guessing they dealt with the same issues I face as a writer.

In the past, I've arrived at the point where lighting a match to my work in progress seemed like the logical next step. It's in that moment when my finger hovers over the delete button that I have to assess what's really going on. 

Is it really trash? 

There is a learning curve after all. Some projects serve to make us better at our craft, but should NEVER be allowed to see the light of day. Like that Lumberjack/Werewolf meets Vampire/Actress romance I thought about writing. If the project is indeed crap, it's okay to give it up or use it solely as a writing exercise. 

Have I spent so long looking at it that I'm sick of it? 

Every product has a “sell by” date. When it hits that point, it's time to pass it on to someone else. Beta readers, writerly friends, proofreaders, and editors are there for that purpose. Though it makes me nervous, there's nothing more amazing than putting my story into someone else's hands. (And while they're at it, I relax, go shopping, catch a movie, or grab a sandwich and a frosty beverage. May as well enjoy myself while they're busy, right?)

Do I need a break? 

Instead of going all ninja assassin on my project, taking a breather and coming back to it with fresh eyes is a much better option. I keep a number of back-burner projects, amazing books, movies, and other entertainments on hand for this purpose. (Feel free to use my excuse for seeing movies, reading, and frequenting live theater: it's research, my friends!)

Has my story has gone off-course? 

This can happen to the best of writers. For those who plot out entire novels, the journey may fall flat. And for those like me who follow characters and plotlines to see where they lead, sometimes we hit a dead end. At that point plotsers and pantsers alike can hop right back in to do some substantial rewriting, ask someone for help, or yes, scrap the whole thing. (Seriously though, don't throw away anything. Just set it aside. You never know when that scene, plot twist, or quirky character will find a home in another chapter or another book. For instance, I'm dying to find a place for my sassy Vampire/Actress. Just not in a Vampire/Werewolf love story.)  

As writers, we have to remember that we have a story worth telling and we are capable of telling it.Yes, the SuckFest happens. Probably not to everyone and definitely not all the time, but it happens to me. When it does, I take a deep breath, figure out what's wrong, and move forward accordingly. Wallowing in my own suckiness never changes anything. At the end of the day, we all must remember that we may produce crap writing every now and then but we are NOT crap writers.

Writerly advice is on tap, my friends! Marketing for One, Please, Expect the Unexpected, Ms. Etiquette Makes an Appearance, Ready or Not, Author Envy. Happy reading and thanks for dropping by!

My Boyfriend, The BBC

It probably started with my love of Shakespeare and Jane Austen. Something about reading and/or watching either one always made me feel smarter and more cultured. Years of Pride & Prejudice parties on Super Bowl Sunday (same snacks, just fancier) and you have the makings of a girl who was bound to fall in love with British television.

So today, I'm sharing my love of the BBC and my vast appreciation for Netflix. Without them, I'd probably have more of a social life! Anyway, here are a few of my favorites:

Doctor Who

Doo-wee-doo! There's something about a man who's seen so much horror and continues to value human life and fight for what's right. And the fact that he's quirky, brilliant, and hilarious? Well, that just makes him more appealing. Matt Smith incarnation of the Doctor with his affinity for bow ties, fezzes, Stetsons, and dressing like a substitute science teacher will always be my Doctor. I will forever be listening for the TARDIS and hoping he's the one nabbing me for an adventure. 

Sherlock

Admittedly the first time I saw Sherlock, I thought, There's sure a lot of nudity... (It was Scandal In Belgravia, which was my favorite until the antics of Drunk Sherlock.) I was quick to learn that nudity and profanity weren't a staple for the show, because Sherlock is all about the brains.

I blame my Sherlock obsession on a dad who read mysteries to his children and introduced us to Columbo and Poirot during our formative years. Who dunnits still draw me in. And really, do I have to say it? I'm a little bit in love with Mr. Cumberbatch. I just want him to read me bedtime stories I his sexy, low voice. Or, you know, recipe cards.

Downton Abbey

My love for period dramas and romance attracted me to Downton, though not initially. I watched the first episode and thought, I don't get it. What's all the fuss about? Weeks later on a lazy Sunday afternoon I thought I'd give it another try. I still haven't turned it off. The unique upstairs/downstairs interactions, the stunning fashions, and the ooey gooey romance keep me coming back. As my friend explained to someone who's apparently been living under a rock and knows nothing about it, Downton is a period soap opera. 

Too true. And we eat it up.

Call the Midwife

A friend brought Call the Midwife to my attention. She was intrigued by the ins and outs of midwifery portrayed in the show and she's absolutely addicted to the 40s. However, the videos of childbirth from my Human Development courses were as close as I wanted to come to live birth, at least from that angle. But, when I had a moment free from Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Downton (yes, I did fly through them all in a matter of months) I pulled up Call the Midwife and watched a couple of episodes. Here's what I love about it: the cadence, the heart, and the class. It's as beautifully choreographed as a dance. Give it a try. Maybe you'll love it. And maybe you'll learn to do your hair in victory rolls too.

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I'm pretty sure I could go on. I haven't even mentioned The Paradise, Merlin, or Robin Hood, which are fantastic examples of what I love about British TV. Classic literature, myths, and legends revamped with the perfect blending of drama, comedy, and humor. As a writer and/or couch potato I can get behind that. 

And hey, who doesn't love a good accent? Tom Hiddleston is also more than welcome to read me bedtime stories. Or the ingredients on the back of the cereal box.

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Anything else I should check out? Leave me a comment and tell me what you're obsessed with! As always, for reading! If you'd like to learn more about my geeky tendencies, revisit Fan Fiction & Fairytales or Geek Chic. 

Its Playtime!

As a teacher I have to rationalize why much of what we do in kindergarten--building with blocks, doing puzzles, and dramatizing stories--looks like play. My professional response is:

Play fulfills a wide variety of purposes in the life of the child. On a very simple level it promotes the development of sensorimotor skills, or skills that require the coordination of movement with senses, such as using eye-hand coordination to stack blocks (Frost et al., 2005; Morrison, 2004). 

But what I'd really like to say is:

Adults need playtime as much as children.  With all the hubbub of adult responsibilities, we lose who we are beyond our professional and family roles.

For this reason, my summer break is sacred. A summer full of deadlines (self-imposed and otherwise), family drama, and more schedule than I'm accustomed to, wasn't exactly what I hoped for. Luckily, I reserved plenty of time for playtime. And when I say playtime, I mean actual plays. As an escape, I scheduled four plays within three weeks at the end of the summer.That's right, I'm a genius! 

This summer, I attended Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors, Austen's Sense & Sensibility, Mary Poppins, and Wicked. Between SuperCaliFragilIsTicsExpiAlidocious and Shakespeare my soul was fed, my heart was touched, my funny bone was tickled, and my imagination was set free. 

Play is important.  As adults, we need to spare a moment to nurture the child within each of us.   Finding time to do what we love reminds us of who we are, lightens our hearts, and keeps us going.  If you need an excuse, tell your significant other, boss, or children that your kindergarten teacher said to do it.  I'd be pleased to take the blame.  

What activities keep your mind fresh? I'd love to hear about them. Leave me a comment!

For more on my summer of fun, read Sun, Surf, & Solace and Unexpected Sweetness.  Thanks for stopping in and go forth and play, my friends! 

Unexpected Sweetness

We'd taken longer than usual to arrive at Golden Gate Park. Alright, I had missed the exit and instead of heading toward it, we were speeding away from it. After a detour along surface roads, a full-blown debate about whether I'd be able to cross four lanes of barely moving traffic, and an ongoing prayer that my Utah licence plate would grant everyone patience with my non-Californian driving skills, and there I was proudly maneuvering my way back to the correct highway. Only one more moment of tension involving my stick shift and a lengthy San Francisco hill dotted with traffic lights, and we made it.

Only to find that the Conservatory of Flowers is closed on Mondays. Delightful. We wandered around, snapped photos of the partially-bloomed Dahlia garden, and realized something: cats can be vindictive. In this case, old slightly neurotic cats can knock expensive cameras onto the floor because said cats feel they're being ignored.  The result of this particular cat disaster was that my cousin's camera wasn't functioning correctly. While she worked on the camera, we piled back into the car to explore other parts of the park . A hazy memory of lush rose beds drove me onward, but they were nowhere to be found. A small sign designating the Shakespeare Garden caught my attention and parking the car, my mom and I made our way back to it. 

The Shakespeare Garden was small but charming. After perusing the old fashioned flowers and the collection of quotations from Shakespearean plays, we retraced our steps. A message from my cousin revealed that at last the camera was repaired--old neurotic cat had done nothing more than flip a tiny switch.  Cindy's relief was palpable, which was only understandable, she's a photographer.

In the meantime, we learned that the Rose Garden was only a few minutes away. Taking the right streets this time and feeling like a queen for finding a nearby parking spot, we arrived at last. 

Roses in June couldn't be more glorious, the garden in full bloom and awash with lovely smells was exactly as I remembered it. Names like Hot Cocoa and Honey Perfume dotted the beds and with an irrepressible grin on my face, I perused each and every one at my leisure.

At the end of a somewhat tense day, discovering something sweet was like a tender mercy extended from above, a balm to all our souls.  Isn't finding unexpected loveliness at journey's end always like that?

Dear friends, I'd love to hear of your adventures and unexpected discoveries.  Feel free to comment below.
For more on my ongoing search for beauty and inspiration, revisit Hope Grows In A... or Sun, Surf, & Solace. 

Life-Changing Literature

Breath out, breathe in. I had to remind myself of the process. In through the nose, pushed out through the mouth.  Repeat.

I glanced across at my friend, noting her wide eyes and pinked cheeks.

"I had to look away," she admitted. "It was just..." And there it was again, the wide-eyed did-that-just-happen look that begged me to complete the thought.

I didn't need to. My thumping pulse bore witness of what had just taken place.

Few things have this shaken-to-the-core effect on me: a good car crash will do it--especially when I'm at fault, powerlessly watching someone in the throws of a seizure puts me in the same place, and anytime a child is mistreated in my presence will send me right to the verge of crazy.

But it was none of those.  This time it was Shakespeare.

The fandom wouldn't miss a beat. "Because: Tom Hiddleston," they'd chorus.

And they wouldn't be wrong--he was the reason I heard about Coriolanus in the first place, combed my group of friends for a willing theater-goer, and happily whipped out the plastic to cover the tickets.  

But the smug fandom wouldn't be entirely right either. Actors spin a story in their own unique way.  Through a brilliant combination of body language and vocal inflection they portray raw emotion to the viewer.  However, without a story to tell, even the accomplished and oh-so-attractive Tom Hiddleston wouldn't have gotten very far.  

This leads us firmly to the heart of the matter: Shakespeare, one of the greatest storytellers of all time.

Imagine dragging an obscure Roman warrior from the past and breathing life into his long-forgotten heroics and human foibles. Let me share a portion with you from the end of the play. (No spoilers, I promise!) After having defended Rome with his own life, Coriolanus is banished from his homeland by those who lauded his name only moments before.  In shame and great humility, he turns to the man he defeated and becomes a sword in his enemy's hand against his own people.  Desperate, Rome sends emissaries to plead their case. One by one. they are turned away by Coriolanus.  As a last recourse, they send his beloved mother, wife, and young son to his camp:

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection!
All bond and privilege of nature, break!
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows;
As if Olympus to a molehill should
In supplication nod: and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces
Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand,
As if a man were author of himself
And knew no other kin.

Life-changing literature.

I can never aspire to what William Shakespeare has done, but every time I interact with his works, I come away enriched, uplifted, and inspired.  He has grown me as a writer and human being in ways I can't express.

Here's my point: there is great need for writers to be readers.  Losing ourselves in a good book, play, or movie is as good a way as any to get the heart racing and the creative juices flowing.  In my quest to extend my online presence, I overlooked the importance of immersing myself in good literature, and as a consequence, my writing suffered.  Now, empowered by the immortal words of Shakespeare, I pick up my pen (ahem, laptop) and get to work.

I urge you to do the same.  Find what inspires you--people, places, high quality literature--and jump in with two feet.

And, let me tell you something, it doesn't hurt if "passing sexy" Tom Hiddleston is part of the process.