The Princess Detective: a narrative break

The townspeople dream of killing the wolves. The wolves, able to do as they please, dream of very little.

Every few years to town sends a fighter to challenge a wolf. Sometimes the wolf allows the fighter to live. But the Prince was no fighter. He had no reason to approach the wolves.

The wolves, the townspeople concluded, must have approached him. The more the townspeople talk about it, the more convinced they become that promises were made and broken. Everyone knows you can’t trust wolves. How, they wondered, did the Prince forget this basic truth of their lives?

Another truth of their lives that they were quite keen to remind the Princess of at every opportunity was chosen to find the truth. They waited for her to do her job. When she walked into a room, they looked at her expectantly.

The Princess realized the moment the crown was placed on her head that while she was expected to find the truth, nothing in the all of the documents and scriptures of the town said that she had to share it.

The Craziest Inmate

of the Asylum stays in the highest tower. She possesses the power to hear and see everything, everywhere on the grounds, but for all her powers of observation and her passion to explore every nook and cranny, she can’t escape.

The inmates and staff call her The Writer, and they believe she controls their lives.

She may be the craziest inmate there is.

Little Godlets

Just to be peevish I’m not going to mention his name and give him more links and google alerts, but I did read his article expressing his opinion about adults reading young adult literature.

Most likely he decided to bother the world with his opinion because he has a book to promote–if I’m being cynical about it. Maybe he’s trying to make the world a better place? Well, a better place for him. Look! I should move through the world without being annoyed by what someone else is doing!

If the Internet has committed any sin, it has revealed too many little gods. Little godlets stomping their feet at the rest of us.

Godlets believe they can judge entire lives in a moment. I’m speeding because I’m late to work. You’re speeding because you’re irresponsible.

Having this power, godlets are able to discern the lack of value in entire groups. That’s why one might be frustrated by seeing a guy reading a disapproved of book, but not even mention seeing a woman reading the same book, because the latter isn’t worth mentioning. And tween girls? Why do they exist if not for grown men to insult? Apparently.

I guess even godlets can’t get over junior high.

Read wide and far. Use labels as you might a billboard. Might tell you something interesting ahead, but it isn’t a GPS system, and even a GPS system has its limits.

Anytime we think we know what people should be reading and we think we know people from what they are reading, we need a sharp pin in our inflated godlet ego.

Granted, I’d be quick to judge someone who ate only junk food. You must eat your vegetables! But the comparison between healthy eating and healthy reading is easy but limited. And I’m no doctor.

I’m a writer.

You should be reading my books, of course.

Ha.

Do you ever feel judged for what you read? Are there books you judge others for reading? Met any godlets lately?

The Full Mind Way

I’ve heard a lot about living a mindful life, and I’m all for it. Really. Make an effort.

That said, what I think I’m experiencing is a full mind life.

My mind is full. I don’t mean in a great mind sort of way. Symphonies and cures are not banging up against each other in there. No plan to save or take over the world. No.

My mind is full of do-stuff lists, annoyances, things I need to say or should’ve said, projects, memories, random crap, and a few worthwhile notions. If brains are like junk closets then my junk closet is in the house of someone about to be invaded by cameras for reality TV. “Just look at what is still in here!”

Please note I said TV crew not police. My junk closet isn’t that bad.

Well, actually it may not even be that interesting, but it is that cluttered.

Anyway, one thing rattling around a lot lately is irritation. I have wasted more time getting annoyed with and debating with people on facebook than normal. I find that I read something–and I can’t let it go. Usually I roll my eyes at things and shrug. Everyone is entitled to an opinion and I’m wrong as often as anyone else.

But I’m angrier these days. Frustrated with the world. It’s ridiculous because no one is going to change the world with a facebook comment. I hate to argue with people. I hate to make people mad at me.

And yet…

Are you someone who likes to argue or who avoids argument no matter what? How do you argue–to their face on in status threads? Do you think arguing is useful or a waste of time?

You can’t say that where I can hear you.

A friend apologized in a facebook post for her offensive language in a previous post that was about a certain Texas governor.

This friend is over 60. Perhaps she’s old enough to use whatever language she pleases.

But how much should we censor ourselves?

My friend isn’t a writer. She isn’t someone who needs to sell something or make fans.

But is there something that matters enough to you to lose readers over? Probably that sentiment is in your work, don’t you think?

Some people may not like you for opinions you didn’t even realize mattered. Admit your real feelings towards Harry Potter and who knows who will hate you.

Sometimes though, I resent the people I censor myself for–though that tends to be family. So many things I do not say around family, and it does drive me crazy. But I don’t want to be rude or cause a stir. And I do want to be respectful.

When and where do you censor yourself? How do you feel about it?

I love Harry Potter by the way.

What? Me worry?

This year–though not for a few months yet–I will be 44.

My mother died when she was 45.

my mother at 42

45.

I’ll be 45 in the next calendar year.

Kind of far away if you’re looking forward to something.

So far I’ve had most all of my mother’s health problems.

Of course, I’m not her.

But obviously I’m thinking about it.

Any big numbers out there for you?

Magic Pixie Dust & Other Ways to Act like a Grown-up

My next art show is January 20th. My spring semester starts January 9th. I’m not prepared for either.

If I could give up washing dishes, laundry, walking the dog, and parenting, I might feel okay with these dates–and I might not have this headache.

But no pixie is going to sprinkle my apartment with magic dust and announce, “You now have the gift of extra time!”

Bills will not pay themselves. (Shocking, isn’t it?)

I don’t need to live in a spotless apartment (please, never stop by unannounced), but I do rather like eating off clean plates and wearing clothes that don’t smell. (I’m a conformist.)

The thing I’ve learned about art shows (at least, my art shows) is that they do not pay for themselves. From a budget perspective they are foolish endeavors… why go through all the bother?

I know plenty of people who when deciding where to live and what to study and what job to take look at the money. They have a lifestyle they want (above the basic food-and-shelter), and they act accordingly. Often these people have lovely houses in nice neighborhoods and they do things like take trips and go shopping for new clothes.

When I’m in these people’s houses I feel I’m from another planet and my brain is incapable of figuring out how these people manage it. They have matching furniture in the living room!

Okay, I’m rambling when I’ve got plenty of work to do.

If you know how to juggle everything and live like a grown up, please let me in on the secret.