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this is a dog.

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The weekend is flying already. Yesterday, Paul and I took a trip up to Brattleboro, VT, where we met up with Dave & Ren, and had a lovely day exploring shops and enjoying a delicious dinner at India Palace. I picked up a tiny little book called Japanese in Thirty Hours, which promises great things. I took myself through the first lesson this morning, and can now point at Lucy and say, “This is a dog.” Very exciting.

Today, Paul will go hiking, and I will attempt to do some writing (with perhaps a bit of laundry on the side). I have a lot of ideas swirling around in my head, and I need to get them down before they flee.

Tomorrow I will be leaving the house before the crack of dawn to make it to NYC in time for auditions. We are booked solid (with a short lunch break) from 10-5, and we even have a waiting list, which is a very great thing, but makes for a long day. I will be lucky to make it back home by ten, at which time I intend to collapse on the couch with Lucy and anyone else who will join me. If I am still capable of speech at that point, I will point at her and say, “This is a dog.”

Happy weekend, folks!

A Great Deliverance by Elizabeth George: A-

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From the back cover:
To this day, the low, thin wail of an infant can be heard in Keldale’s lush green valleys. Three hundred years ago, as legend goes, the frightened Yorkshire villagers smothered a crying babe in Keldale Abbey, where they’d hidden to escape the ravages of Cromwell’s raiders.

Now into Keldale’s pastoral web of old houses and older secrets comes Scotland Yard Inspector Thomas Lynley, the eighth Earl of Asherton. Along with the redoubtable Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers, Lynley has been sent to solve a savage murder that has stunned the peaceful countryside. For fat, unlovely, Roberta Teys has been found in her best dress, an axe in her lap, seated in the old stone barn beside her father’s headless corpse. Her first and last words were, “I did it. And I’m not sorry.”

Yet as Lynley and Havers wind their way through Keldale’s dark labyrinth of secret scandals and appalling crimes, they uncover a shattering series of revelations that will reverberate through this tranquil English valley—and in their own lives as well.

Review:
I was quite surprised to discover, about halfway through this book, that Elizabeth George is American. I never would’ve guessed, as it seemed such a quintessentially English mystery to me. Stylistically, her writing reminded me of P. D. James: thorough, easily-visualized descriptions of places and people; well-defined detectives with class differences; and lots of words that required me to seek out the dictionary. Favorite new word: armigerous. One just has to love the way people talk in these books, too. A normal person might say “I’m just in time!” Here, however, an aristocratic lady appearing in time for breakfast exclaimed, “What a propitious arrival I’ve affected!”

While the mystery itself was okay, what really made the book special was the relationship between Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers. He’s an Earl, Eton-educated, and a “golden boy” with a reputation for appreciating the ladies. Havers, from a working-class background, is described as truculent and termagant (another for the dictionary!) and had actually been demoted back to the street on account of difficulties she’d had getting along with the inspectors with whom she’d previously been paired. I loved that the first appearance of Lynley is seen through Havers’ eyes: “He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. She loathed him.” Hee hee. Watching them getting to know one another as they worked the case was of equal importance to the case itself.

About the only thing I didn’t like was the obnoxious American tourist with a propensity for demanding to be told “the poop.” I realized he was there to make our heroes cringe and all, but egads, he was repellent.

timelock

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I am existing in that state that Elizabeth Ann has always referred to as “timelock.” This is a bad thing. It means that I have too much to do and too little time, and as a result, I’m feeling paralyzed to do any of it efficiently. I feel this everywhere: life, work, my inner world.

My “graphic novel” has been coming along wonderfully, or at least was until a couple of days ago, when the timelock kicked in. I have chucked stick figure drawings in favor of just writing a very clear script with descriptions, which I think ultimately will be more useful for anyone who might be trying to understand it. I am kind of in love with it, which is a great feeling, and something that has not been easy for me to come by in my own work.

Oh, timelock, please leave me. You are not welcome here.

Specials by Scott Westerfeld: A-

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From the front flap:
“Special Circumstances.” The words have sent chills down Tally’s spine since her days as a repellent, rebellious ugly. Back then Specials were a sinister rumor—frighteningly beautiful, dangerously strong, breathtakingly fast. Ordinary pretties might live their whole lives without meeting a Special. But Tally’s never been ordinary.

And now she’s been turned into one of them: a superamped fighting machine, engineered to keep the uglies down and the pretties stupid.

The strength, the speed, and the clarity and focus of her thinking feel better than anything Tally can remember. Most of the time. One tiny corner of her heart still remembers something more.

Still, it’s easy to tune that out—until Tally’s offered a chance to stamp out the rebels of the New Smoke permanently. It all comes down to one last choice: listen to that tiny, faint heartbeat, or carry out the mission she’s programmed to complete. Either way, Tally’s world will never be the same.

Review:
Specials is big on story and premise, small on emotional impact. The chief fault of this series (characterization) hasn’t changed. Tally’s in a constant state of flux: she’s this, she’s that, she thinks this, she thinks that, she feels this, she feels that. One can’t really identify with a protagonist whose true nature is so hard to pin down.

The plot and the setting, however, made this an enjoyable read. I was surprised by the direction of the story on a couple of occasions, and though Tally’s ultimate fate is a little odd, it also kind of brings things full circle, so I’m okay with it.

Ultimately, I’d recommend the series, but as a library selection. At this time, I don’t intend to purchase my own copies to have on hand, which I usually do with true keepers.

Pants on Fire by Meg Cabot: B

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From the back cover:
Katie Ellison is not a liar. It’s just that telling the truth is so… tricky. She knows she shouldn’t be making out with a drama club hottie behind her football-player boyfriend’s back. She should probably admit that she can’t stand eating quahogs (clams), especially since she’s running for Quahog Princess in her hometown’s annual Quahog Festival. And it would be a relief to finally tell someone what really happened the night “Tommy Sullivan” was spray-painted on the new wall outside the gymnasium—in neon orange, which still hasn’t been sandblasted off. After all, everyone knows that’s what drove Tommy out of town four years ago.

But now Tommy Sullivan has come back. Katie is sure he’s out for revenge, and she’ll do anything to hang on to her perfect (if slightly dishonest) existence. Even if it means telling more lies than ever. Even if, now that Tommy’s around, she’s actually—no lie—having the time of her life.

Review:
From the book description, it sounded like this book would be very annoying, but it actually wasn’t bad. Oh sure, Katie could be irksome, but she was at least distinctly different from the rest of Cabot’s heroines. And yeah, the plot was totally predictable, but it was satisfying in a romantic comedy kind of way.

There was more of the “re-explaining” that has bugged me in Cabot’s other books. In this case, it was where the circumstances of the awfulness of Tommy’s return were reiterated. Yes, he ticked off some people in a highschool-football-crazy town by exposing some jocks for cheating on their SATs. Yes, they lost their scholarships. Yes, Katie is now dating the younger brother of one of said jocks, who is still angry about the whole thing. I got all that the first time it was revealed and (gasp!) made all the necessary connections without having to be led through it on a string. I’m quite sure most teens can manage the same.

Also, like most Cabot heroines I’ve thus far encountered, Katie had a hobby that she was serious about pursuing. I think I need to make a list.

Princess Diaries — Mia is into writing.
All-American Girl — Sam is into art.
Pants on Fire — Katie is into photography.

Suze from the Mediator series didn’t have a hobby that I remember, but she had a sort of job/destiny thing, so I guess that qualifies. Their friends are usually into something specific, too. It’s kind of a character shortcut in many cases (this one’s a cheerleader, no need to establish more about her), but it’s better than girls with no aspirations, at least.

Anyway, I shouldn’t be surprised that Cabot books are formulaic and occasionally padded with needless rehashing: it’d be difficult to crank them out at her current pace if she had to come up with something entirely new each time. It was still a fun read and I’m sure I’ll be back for more Cabot when the need for fluff resurfaces.

Carpe Demon by Julie Kenner: B-

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From the back cover:
Lots of women put their careers aside once the kids come along. Kate Connor, for instance, hasn’t hunted a demon in ages. That must be why she missed the one wandering through the San Diablo Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, he managed to catch her attention an hour later—when he crashed into the Connor house, intent on killing her. Now Kate has to dispose of a dead demon and pull together a dinner party—all without arousing her family’s suspicion. Worse yet, it seems the dead demon didn’t come alone. It’s time for Kate Connor to go back to work.

Review:
This book has been described as “what would happen if Buffy got married and kept her past a secret.” It bugs me when characters are compared to Buffy purely based on the fact that they have killed or do currently kill vampires and demons. They’re never really anything like her. Kate is far too flat a protagonist for any comparison to be valid. Sure, she kicks some butt, but she’s still pretty bland. Good supernatural horror should be used as a catalyst to explore character. Buffy did that. Carpe Demon does not.

The plot was pretty disjointed, and sometimes I just had to shake my head and go “Wha?”, like when Kate spontaneously decided to spring an old dude from a nursing home to come live with her family, or when she concluded based on no evidence that the nurses there were demon minions, or when it’s revealed she spent her orphaned childhood at the Vatican. Did she never discuss her childhood with her husband? Did she feed him lies? If so, this is never specifically addressed.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I did like the parts where Kate ponders the void in her second marriage (second hubby doesn’t know about her past, but the first one was a fellow demon hunter) and seriously worries that the threads of her past life will unravel her cozy present. Sometimes the writing was amusing, but also employed tired old clunkers like, “I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you.” Also, the demon voices on the unabridged audio were nifty and freakin’ creepy!

Though this book really wasn’t that great, it entertained me well enough that I’ll check out the second in the series for free from the library.

creative morning

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I’ve been working all morning on my graphic novel (I have to laugh a little every time I say that, because of course it is never actually going to be a graphic novel unless some artist comes along to save me). It is a great feeling, though I feel like I have little to show for hours of thought and plotting. The big news is that my main character has, at long last, acquired a name. Also, some bits of the story that have been troublesome and vague up to this point are finally starting to take shape. Maybe this will actually turn into something someday. This is the most positive feeling I’ve had about it up to this point. It’s encouraging.

I hope to have scans of my sad little drawings of the main characters soon. Perhaps I can bring myself to share. We shall see.

living a life

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As you probably can see from my sidebar, I read Neil Gaiman’s blog regularly, and as I was reading last night (about his mutual fanboy encounter with John Simm), it gave me such a smile. I think what I find so charming about his blog, is that he’s just a guy out there, living a life, and it really made me think about what I’m doing with my time. I spend all this time in my own head, brooding about life and life choices, blah blah blah, when it seems like I could just be out there living instead.

Granted, it’s a lot easier to be out living a life when you have the momentum that comes from really loving what you do. But could I find that if I tried? I lived like that once, I think. Back when I was acting and still loving it, and maybe even after when I was at least still loving the travel, every day was about living. Now this is not to say that I’m unsatisfied with my life, because there is so much of it that I love. But what is all this blogging and introspection really doing for me?

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but as I sit at my desk, forcing myself into taking a break from this long, headachy, meeting-saturated day, I wonder.

incoherant rambling

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Yes, this is what I do when I’m at lunch.

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts lately, trying to define myself, which is not something I generally place a lot of importance on, but has suddenly been in the forefront of my mind. Something I’ve been struggling with a lot is the feeling that the things I am doing lack meaning. I originally chalked this up to Too Much Anime, but the truth is, it is something I’ve been feeling for some time, and Too Much Anime simply provided a catalyst for discussion.

I currently have a number of half-baked projects in the works, and my official “job” is a bit half-baked right now too, which doesn’t help. Obviously I can’t finish baking everything at once (that metaphor is getting old fast, isn’t it?), which brings me again to the question of defining myself. I defined myself in my introductory post here as “singer, songwriter, theater manager, former actor, stumbling writer, dog-lover, fiction addict, mac geek, wife,” and in truth, that’s still probably only about half of the things I’d have to list if I was being really honest. One person can’t possibly be all that, so what am I?

Lately, I’ve been working on something that very desperately wants to be a graphic novel, despite the fact that I can’t draw to save my life. For the time being, I’ve been sketching out frames with stick figures and other indeterminate shapes with the hope that someone, somewhere might be able to see what I’m trying to express with them and help me bring that vision to reality. This seems unlikely, as I have no idea whatsoever how to go about finding such a person. And yet I persevere. I even spent a couple of hours attempting to draw my main characters in some way that would give the stick figures a bit more meaning, but considering how long it takes me to draw the stick figures, that may have been a bit premature. Paul found me a class to take at UMASS entitled something like “Writing the Graphic Novel,” but when I looked it up online, it had been canceled. Is this a sign?

introduction

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I thought I should start this blog off with a real introduction. I am MJ, singer, songwriter, theater manager, former actor, stumbling writer, dog-lover, fiction addict, mac geek, wife. This is my new “real life” blog where I will stand behind my own name, and talk about all of the above as well as whatever else crosses my overactive mind.

Both this blog and I are a work in-progress. Let’s see how they play out.