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Guardian

“Guardian”

I am a guardian, o knowledge seeker.
Ask me your questions,
And I shall ask mine.
If you are deemed worthy,
I will show you the path.
You must make the journey alone.
I am guardian, protector,
Though I was once as you are
Now, in another life.
In my youth, I too was a
Seeker of knowledge.
And on the day that I was
First a seeker, asking my questions
And trembling as I responded
To those asked of me,
I feared, but foolishly.
My questions were answered
With questions, riddles for reply.
Now ask your questions, and
Answer well mine, for perhaps
You are worthy of the path
That led me here, o knowledge seeker.
I am a guardian.

October Writing Challenge

Halloween is nearly upon us, with NaNoWriMo close on its heels, and that thought absolutely terrifies me. In the spirit of the season, I’m taking a page from Sonia M and asking my readers to take part in a writing challenge. This is the first challenge I’m hosting, and so it is going to focus on my favorite holiday. Craft a piece of horror-themed microfiction. Think Poe, Lovecraft, King, Machen, condensed into roughly 500 words.


The rules are simple.

1.) Theme: Write a horror-themed piece of microfiction.
2.) Genre: Other than the overall theme, there are no genre limitations. Write a steampunk/horror story, or a horror/romance, or science fiction/horror, just for some examples.
3.) Word limit: 500 words (approximate).
4.) Deadline: October 31st, 2012.
5.) How to submit: If you have a blog of your own, post your story on your blog and share a link in the comments on this post. If you don’t have a blog of your own, feel free to post the story in the comments here. If you do this, I will post the story in a separate post and re-link it here.
6.) Prizes: The reward of a job well-done and the knowledge that you managed to finish one more short piece before diving headfirst into NaNoWriMo.

Banned Books Week

This week marks the 30th anniversary of Banned Books Week, a week-long celebration of the right to read.

Throughout history, books have faced challenges and bans from people around the world. These challenges come from groups and individuals who have taken it upon themselves to determine what is “appropriate” for others to be reading based on tired dogma and personal opinion. In the words of Granville Hicks, “[a] censor is a man who knows more than he thinks you ought to.”

Some of the greatest pieces of literature ever written have been banned or challenged in schools, churches, and public libraries for various reasons. The Great Gatsby, for example (one of my favorite books), was challenged in 1987 by Charleston, South Carolina’s Baptist College because of “language and sexual references in the book.” Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that this particular phrase could have been used to challenge the presence of the Holy Bible, considering the Old Testament features several chapters which single-handedly contain more explicit sexual references than anything written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. J.D. Salinger’s classic tale of teen rebellion, Catcher in the Rye, was banned for being “a filthy, filthy book.” That’s a bit of a vague excuse if you ask me, and makes me wonder if the people behind that challenge had actually read the entire book, as, in an amusing twist, the narrator believes a “catcher in the rye” to be one who safeguards the innocence of children. As recently as 2009 To Kill a Mockingbird has been challenged for use of the word “nigger” among other language that was dubbed as inappropriate. The list goes on and on, and increases in absurdity. The works of Tolkien, a staunch Catholic, burned in New Mexico in 2001 as “satanic.” Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying “[b]anned at Central High School in Louisville, KY (1994) temporarily because the book uses profanity and questions the existence of God.”

More recent works are facing challenges and bans as well. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, and Captain Underpants have all been threatened with removal from library shelves. I’ve personally encountered people willing to ban materials on nothing more than hearsay. My mother, herself a Catholic, has encountered this at the bookstore she owns and operates.
Customer sees Harry Potter on the shelf: “I can’t believe you have that book in your store! It’s about devil worship and magic and terrible things!”
Mum: “Have you actually read the books?”
Customer: “Well, no, but I heard that they were bad.”
Mum: “Well, if you actually took the time to read the book, you’d learn that they’re about a little boy who overcomes terrible adversity and still manages to become a good person despite facing an evil enemy bent on the destruction of the world, and that there’s nothing harmful about the books.”
Customer: “Oh.”
It’s enough to drive a person insane. “The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.” -attributed to Stephen Hawking

My favorite response to any of these challenges is taken from Oscar Wilde, a man who knew quite a bit about dealing with people who were upset by things that he wrote and did. “The books that the world calls immoral are the books that show the world its own shame.” Humans have an unfortunate history of trying to hide our mistakes and our failures, from the child who attempts to disguise the fact that he wet the bed to avoid the anger of a parent to the government that covers up evidence that it had authorized criminal acts against its own people. It’s human nature, I suppose, but it shouldn’t stop us from learning from our own mistakes. If we hide away all of the bad things that people have done in the past, we can’t do that. You know what they say about learning from the past, and those who are unable to do so.

We need to get over this. If I may be rather earnest, it’s bullshit. Books are here, and they’re being read. If you stop someone from getting a copy at their local library, that might slow them down for a while, but the information, the ideas, are still out in the world. We can’t stop people from experiencing life. Sex and profanity and hate and love and violence are going to be there, whether someone read about it in a book or not. We’ve screwed things up before. Let’s not do that again. 

It’s Banned Books Week. I’m celebrating by reading as many banned or challenged titles as I can. I work in a public library and a bookstore, and I’m providing the people with free ideas and ideas of freedom. “[a]nd ideas are bulletproof.” -V (This V, not that V) 

The Casual Vacancy

J.K. Rowling‘s first post-Harry Potter novel is coming soon. The Casual Vacancy is the writing superstar’s newest work of fiction, and is apparently a standalone work rather than the start of a new series. The literary world is buzzing with rumors about the book and how it might stack up against Rowling’s previous work. I can’t wait, though I find it hard to knowingly invite comparisons between what quickly became one of the best-selling (and most frequently challenged) books of all time and something that would seem to be in a completely different genre. I’m doing my very best to avoid any spoilers, because I want to take on The Casual Vacancy with as open an outlook as possible.

People are complaining that it’s too simple, too 70s, too garish. I like it.

To add to the excitement (at least for me), the book is releasing days before the start of Banned Books Week 2012. Considering the fuss that Rowling’s earlier works caused in the community of morons who decide that they have to determine what other people read, I can’t wait to see the reactions to this new novel. To sum up, I’m thrilled for next week, even though I’m probably going to have to wait for a library copy to arrive (it’s on hold for me). A fan on goodreads said it best, and so I’ll paraphrase. The topic of the book makes no difference. Rowling’s words are always magical.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day

Arr! Today be Talk Like a Pirate Day, the best holiday to ever emerge in the modern age. Spend the day talking like a pirate, or dress like one like me. Better yet, if ye be of age, drink like one. Read some good pirate books, too.

Pirate Latitudes, by Michael Crichton

On Stranger Tides, by Tim Powers

Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson

Captain Blood, by Rafael Sabatini

Our Obsession

With the unfortunate continuation of the rise of “unscripted” reality television shows, it seems like every conceivable topic is getting at least one series dedicated to it. Some things are apparently even big enough to warrant entire cable/satellite networks dedicated to them. What’s that? You collect Beanie Babies and you’ve purchased ten of each one that came out since 1993 and your house is now in danger of collapse because you’ve knocked out supporting walls to make room for your little stuffed friends? Better go on Hoarders. Like tattoos? There’s Miami Ink and L.A. Ink. Friends with someone who loves the bizarre and macabre? Point them toward Oddities or Oddities: San Francisco.

It seems as though there’s something for everyone, right? Well, not quite. What about us? What about the writers? Where’s our series showcasing authors and libraries and bookstores and the pains of staying up all night for a week to try to meet a deadline? Apparently I’m not the first person to think this way. Back in May, Entertainment Weekly’s Stephan Lee (@EWStephanLee) proposed a concept, laying out a manner in which such a thing could be done. It’s sort of like televising your progress through Nanowrimo. I’m now debating running this as some sort of surreal web series. Watch my sanity slowly slip away as I attempt to craft a novel in thirty days! No, on second thought, don’t do that. Webcam will be hidden away. Fear not, dear readers.

In all seriousness, this is reality TV I could stand to watch, and might even actively follow. You’ve gotten everyone else, network execs. Where’s our obsession?

Tourist

Have you ever been a tourist in your own town? It’s amazing what a slight shift in perception can do for you. For example, I’ve been living in Colorado Springs for the last six years. In that time, I’ve done almost none of the cool stuff that visitors do. Why? Because it’s been just me.

In the last two weeks, however, I’ve been changing that. When my sister was in town, I finally took the opportunity to visit Garden of the Gods. Ever been there? I lived down the street from there for four years and never went. Four years. There’s no price for admission, and it’s open almost all day every day. Over Labor Day, my parents were in town, and we drove up Pikes Peak. I’m a Colorado native, and I didn’t go up my first 14er (mountain with a summit altitude of over 14,000 feet) until a few days ago. I feel a little ridiculous, but simultaneously accomplished. There’s nothing to give you perspective like the view from 14,110 feet. Anyway, dizzying vistas aside, it’s quite inspiring to have made the ascent. Luckily, I have just the outlet for this. Time to write.

Thirty

I am challenging myself to do something I did three years ago (oh good god, was it really three years? Now I feel old). Back in 2009, I was a senior in college, and I was having the time of my life. It was about this time that I remembered an old rhyme. It goes something like this. Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November. All the rest have thirty-one, Excepting February alone, And that has twenty-eight days clear, And twenty-nine in each leap year. (wikipedia) This floated into my head just before September started, and so I decided that I would turn it into “Thirty Poems Hath September” and write one new poem for each day of the month. It was kind of like Nanowrimo before I knew that Nano existed (it was a dark time in my life, despite my earlier statement). At any rate, I composed a LOT of poems that year, mostly during the medieval literature class that V and I were taking at the time (sorry, Dr. Napierkowski-no offense to you or your class, that was just when I usually felt the most inspired). Some of them were complete nonsense. Many of them were haiku, because I would realize I only had five minutes left in the day to write a poem. Some of them were really good. Regardless, the idea got me to write, and to focus on some creative energy that was otherwise fairly elusive. I would recommend you try it. Thirty Poems Hath September. Get ready.

I Write Like…

Several months ago, and courtesy of V, I came across an awesome little utility called “I Write Like.” It’s a neat little tool that compares your word usage, syntax, and other stylistic choices to those of numerous famous authors. Ever curious to see if that fantasy piece stacks up alongside Le Guin or Lewis? Now you can find out. There’s something incredibly satisfying about knowing that your own fiction (or non, iwl isn’t picky) is similar in tone to the stuff you read all the time when you were younger. Don’t know the author they’ve given you as a comparison? “I Write Like” includes a link to that author’s works on amazon. Give it a try right here.

Corn: Summer Writing Challenge Entry

This is my entry for Sonia’s latest writing challenge. The summer competition gave us the goal of writing a short story (500 words or less) based on a photo. Here’s “Corn.”

 

Green is everywhere. It’s the first thing I see when I wake up. There’s been rain recently, and I can feel the moisture in the soil, smell it all around me. Rain’s scent lingers in the gentle breeze. The thunder’s rumble in the distance matches the one in my stomach, and I realize how far the storm has gone and how long ago my last meal was.

Corn. That’s the other overwhelming smell. Damp corn leaves. The corn is tasseled, but the ears on the stalks are still immature, still some time away from being ready for harvest. Good. I don’t have to worry about some poor farmer coming across me when I’m in this state. It’s unlikely that anyone will be coming through the rows this time of year, though. The stalks are far too tall for any wheeled vehicle to come through without crushing them, at least aside from a combine, and again, the maturity of the ears has already eliminated this possibility. I’m not certain where I am. The sun is still all but invisible behind the heavy clouds, but its position tells me that it is early evening. The worst of the storm must be moving on to the east of me, carrying with it more than any farmer would ever want. A heavy green tint to the rear of the storm system hints at the hail that lurks within. I turn my eyes toward more immediate dangers.

My backpack, or more accurately a backpack with my name on it, is on the ground, a row to my right. Examining it for any signs of tampering, I find none. It seems to be fine, so I open it. Inside, I find a flashlight, a jacket, a pocket knife, and a plastic bag with a piece of paper in it. The paper is folded four times and is written upon in black ink. The simple script reads “You have until sunrise tomorrow. You know what you have to do.”

I shrug and nod, fairly certain now that my every move is being watched, despite the apparent solitude.

Without further thought, I shoulder the backpack and stride into the green, vanishing between the rows. I leave boot prints in the damp earth behind me, following the setting sun.

I hope that I can make it.