Coloring pages - Cat

New kitty cat to color. Send me a picture of your finished art work! To print, download image and print as a full page photo. Happy Coloring! Find more pages here. #AdultColoringPage

Coloring Pages

I belong to the Color Pencil Society of America and our chapter is participating in a project to provide coloring books for adults undergoing chemotherapy, to give them something to concentrate on while they are receiving their treatment. Creating line drawings like these is something I've never done before but liked immensely. I will probably create more, but I wanted to share the ones I've drawn for the book. Please feel free to print them out for yourself or anyone else who wants to color and send me pics of the results! To print, download image and print as a full page photo. Happy Coloring! #AdultColoringPages

The Latest art work

It's hard to believe that it has been over two years since my last post, but to my credit, I moved, had a kid and wrote two or three novels, so I haven't been idle. Only recently have I started drawing in earnest again and here are some of the finished products.

Title: Frozen Fairy Dreams (Colored Pencil on 100% Cotton Paper) Click to see the full image.

Title: Pink Kaleidoscope Spring (Colored Pencil on 100% Cotton Paper)

I’m still alive!

I know, it’s been a while, but I have a good excuse. See, in among all the excitement of the last post from mid-November, I also found out I was pregnant. Now there are some women who are great at being pregnant. I am not one of those. Between three bouts of colds/flu and several months of morning sickness, I am simply glad that I was able to hold my place in life, meaning the house is still standing, no one starved and no irreparable damage was done. Now that I am starting to have good days again, it is amazing to me how many dreams and ambitions have returned. I hope that I can always remember how it feels to be in bad health and be thankful for the good days even if I don’t get anything accomplished. Anyway, I won’t give you any more details about the last three months because I am SOoooo tired of being sick, talking about being sick and thinking about sick.

            Even though I’ve have been mostly out of commission and BooBear has decided that naps are not her thing anymore, I have managed a get few things done. I am taking a figure drawing class with Lisa Semerad at the Torpedo Factory. It is a great class and I’m learning quite a bit, but I wish I could take a day time class. By 7pm, I am usually settling in for the night and it’s tough to keep up the interest after a long day with the toddler. I also have created a few crafty things, including 2 bracelets, earrings, necklace charm, and plaque and name cards for the sister-in-law’s wedding. I also edited 1.5 chapters of the novel. When I write it out like that, it doesn’t seem like much, but when I start to feel like that I have to remind myself that I also grew about 5 months worth of new human being. The due date is July 9 but I am hoping for a 7-6-13 birthday just because the numbers are cool. Oh yeah, I’ve been working more on my ice dragon. Here is the comparison. Lisa (from the art class I’m taking) suggested a darker background behind the dragon and it looks fantastic!

            Now that I have come back to life, so to speak, I have a lot of things I want to do, but I am going to prioritize a few. 1) Keep editing the novel. 2) Write a pitch for the upcoming Nano contest and hope I win their little lotto so I can get some free professional critiques. 3) Paint some picture matts for friends. 4) Prepare for the new baby and possible move. There are several other projects that I would like to work on, but they are pretty ambitious and maybe not the best focus, but… since I’m enthusiastic about them, I might not wait for a more prudent time. 1) Create a tree on the wall in Sabrina’s room for family photos. (Reason for not starting: we might move.) 2) Put some effort in a comic/blog and get it off the ground. (Reason against: should focus on the other stuff). 3) Paint pretty designs on Boo Bear’s furniture. (Reason against: Need someone to add another coat of paint before I can do decorative painting because I am supposed to stay away from paint fumes. 

Victory and Courage to Quit

So, November has been a very eventful month and it is only half over. As I often mention around this time of year, November is NationalNovel Writing Month and this year I was more prepared than I've ever been. This showed in my first week word count of about 2000 words per day, when previously I've struggled to get to the minimum of 1,667 words. Then week two came along and I began to struggle with one of the story tracks. Words would fly out on the other, but it was agonizing going for the problem track. Around this time, I got very sick, my cat died and a few other things came up and I fell behind. I would rally and catch up or catch up enough to make success still possible, but then fall behind again when I was too sick to write or my daughter wouldn't nap. Finally, I came to realize that I was walking a fine line between sanity and pushing myself to reach this goal that no one but myself cared about. In other words I was just making myself sicker and not dealing with the grief I felt over my cat. I contemplated quitting, but the reality was that I could have pushed myself through to achieve this goal of 50,000 words so I wouldn't have to admit to myself that I was a quitter. Here’s the thing -  people always celebrate the person who pushes through to achieve the impossible goal no matter what the cost and ostracize the person who quits, but I think it takes even more courage to quit than to keep going. At least I have always found it to be so. I feel as if I have let everyone down, let myself down and in general created a big void of disappointment. I would be easier to bottle up my own feelings than to disappoint and justify. Quitting is not easy for me and it was not easy this time, but in the long term, I will be better in regards to my mental and physical health and the novel I am writing will be better. I will have time to figure out what is wrong with the story instead of just pouring out bad drivel to get a word count. And I will finish this story. I always do. Each Nano novel I have written has been completed much later and is another 30-40K longer than the 50K nano goal. So, I am taking the pressure off and taking a break to feel better.

            However, it’s not all sad news from this quarter. My Fairy-kissed Acorns made it into the Small Works art show at the Torpedo factory. Victory is mine! I’m over the moon! Unfortunately, the reception fell right at the beginning of my cold and I couldn't rally myself to attend, make new acquaintances and spread my plague to as many as possible. I was extremely disappointed, but as if to make up for it, I received a nice letter in the mail from an admirer of my drawing. How often does that happen? I won’t copy the whole note here, even though I am tempted, but will mention that the words “luxury, beautiful and vibrant colors” were used in the letter. So nice!!!! I’m going to keep the note forever in my little art scrap book! So, if you are ever impressed with someone’s creation, please do not be afraid to tell them. I promise they will appreciate it. :)

            In conclusion, it has been a memorable month and will probably continue to be so. Keep tuned for whatever comes next. 

Fairy-Kissed Acorns

While walking at a local park, I came across acorns that were not the traditional brown or even the premature green, but a myriad of fall colors. Like a magpie, I collected pockets full. To prove the acorns were really this color, I took several photos, but I wanted to draw them from a still life. I had to get cracking before they turned to common brown acorns. Here is the result. This will be my next entry into the art league show and possibly into an online show. Except for some framing work, I am done with art for a while so I can participate in Nanowrimo.

                                                               Fairy-Kissed Acorns 

Butterfly of the week

Took longer than I thought, but here is the latest butterfly.

Art and rejection

 Today I was rejected from another show. To be fair there was about a 20% chance my art would be accepted based on the number of entries/space. I know fantastical art is not enthusiastically received at everyday galleries, but I decided to start trying again. For this first show, I didn’t enter my best work even though that is the rule. My best work is unframed, unfinished or in another show. I entered two pieces that I drew over ten years ago in hopes they would be accepted and sell so I wouldn’t have to move them around anymore. Again, I had little hope they would be accepted, but I was more disappointed by their rejection than I anticipated. While pondering why I should still feel so acutely for something that I drew over 10 years ago and that I knew was not my best work anymore, I came to a realization that those pieces of art work have become anchors weighing me down.

Allure of the Spinners

            How can I move forward with art work while I have all these pieces hanging about reminding me that I am not good enough yet? I can make all the excuses in the world such as the little exposure they have had and not finding the right art lover, but no matter what they really are, to me they have come to represent failure. They served their purpose to me while I was drawing them, but I should have moved them out of my life the minute I finished them, because now, after all these years have passed, I somehow feel as if I should be ashamed of them. Even though, when I look at them, I can still see past their faults into the beautiful bits and the joy I had in drawing them, but as soon as I stop looking at them they become the drawing that no one else likes. Since they are an extension of me, it becomes the part of me that no one else likes and then soon becomes a ridiculous declaration rattling around in my head that, “No one likes me.” All the while, the reality is that I have had many complements on them and people like me just fine independent of my art work. Still since they have become symbolic of failure instead of what they really are, the work of a young inexperienced artist, they must go. “Allure of the Spinners” will go to my mother and I will find a good and loving home for “In the Dust.” This show was the last chance for these two drawings.

In the Dust

But the thought of giving a drawing away is heart rending in its own way. All my drawings are my children and it is very hard to part with them sometimes. I’ve given others away, but I’ve given them to people who will appreciate them and treasure them. Unfortunately, there are a few drawings that I can’t imagine anyone liking enough to hang in their home and “In the Dust” is one of those. It is easier to imagine a stranger wanting to buy it than to figure out which friend will treasure it. What if I offer it to someone and they don’t like it? They might accept it out of politeness, look at it in horror and only hang it when I come for a visit. What if it ends up in the dumpster someday or is donated as one of those sad Goodwill pictures? How can I give it away when this might be its fate? I’d rather sell it to a stranger than risk giving it to a friend, because by paying the money for it the stranger has proved he wants to own it and love it, but I have yet to find that stranger. So, you see how I have chained myself to these ten year old drawings. I love them and they make me feel rejected all at the same time, but in the end they have to go. Good bye, little pieces of me. 

A Million Blue Butterflies

A couple months ago, I painted some blue butterflies and I liked them so much I've decided to paint a million more of them. So I have my start with a score of mini canvases to paint and here is my first butterfly.

Here is my work table covered in canvases in varying degrees of sky, cloud and so on..

Oil painting class projects

So here are a few paintings in varying degrees of completion from the class I took on color and oil painting. 

This is my first portrait with oils and even though it has problems, I am quite happy with it. BTW, she isn't angry. That is just the neutral face of a model that has to sit for 3 hrs while beginners squint at her from behind their easels. 

All in al, the class was a fun and interesting experience even though no one talked. 

Procrastination and its purpose

So I spend a lot of time not working while at my computer supposedly editing. There are too many breaks for tea and cookies and words with friends. In the month of August, where I had set a goal of editing a chapter a day for about 30 chapters, I have edited three. Many days I do something else instead of edit.

Yesterday, while doing a search and destroy for all the bad grammar habits I have, I stopped constantly to do something else. Then I realized something. My despair and self criticism would build up to a peak and I would want to quit because I was convinced I sucked and that I would never be a writer and that it would be embarrassing for anyone to read this drivel! At this point I would take an internet or words with friends break and then come back to my editing in a few minutes. So even though I am procrastinating for a majority of my allotted editing time, I am also moving forward. If I didn't take these little breaks for perspective, I would probably give up. So in reality facebook and words with friends is preserving my writing aspirations while making me the slowest editor on the planet.

So happy writing and happy procrastination!

Art and Color

I'm taking a painting class, all about color. It's half way through and while I feel as if I am learning new concepts, it hasn't answered in the social department. No one talks and there are times where I feel like screaming out at them, "I talk to a toddler all day. Please say something." But I don't and instead, I hand out candy in hope of making friends. Oh well. I'll have to buy friends with candy somewhere else. Here are the fruits of my labor. I liked the white urn, but please no more monochromatic stills.

And here is the ice dragon. I thought I would be done by now, but it is lacking that little something that makes it finished. So, I am putting it away for a while in hopes that the finishing touch will pop into my head. 

Editing – The final decision

So, after months of editing and rewriting I have decided to stop trying to salvage this version of the book. It was a hard decision to make and really took the last two months where I stepped away from the project to come to peace with it. Now that I’ve decided, I feel good about the choice.

            How did I just decide to throw away 6-8 months of work and start again? Well, it started when I just couldn’t keep editing the last quarter of my book. There was such a divide between the tone of the writing and the way the story had developed in my head. It was like try to paint over black wall paint. No matter how I changed things, the original tone of the book would show through. I also rewrote the first chapter for a writing workshop that I didn’t end up attending, but the first chapter was so much better as it was rewritten that I can’t go back to the original version. The tone is dark and fits the book. The characters are more real and instead of just going through the motions required by the plot, they are alive and feel the difficulty of their situation. I can’t wait to bring this through the whole book. So, yes, I am going to rewrite from scratch because I think the story and characters are worth it.

            And no, I don’t regret the time I've already spent on this project or the look at it as a waste of time. It was invaluable as a learning tool. Everything I have done on this book has been a huge step into making me into a better writer. First, it was the first book I ever finished and that is a huge accomplishment and still amazes me. I can look back at this book and still have that sense of wonder and accomplishment that I finished a book. Next, it forced me to take a critical look at my writing abilities and ask myself how I could improve. Taking the time to seek out ways to improve and learn was so important. This book has always been a “Throw Away” book (meaning I wasn’t emotionally attached to the idea and so wasn’t afraid of screwing it up). This idea gave me the freedom to learn without self criticism. Now, I think I’ve learned and am ready to move on and try again. Of course, the years I have spent with these characters and their story has changed my feelings towards the story and is no longer a throw away book, but I think I have grown enough as a writer to not be terrified at the thought of trying to write a good book. I am sure that terror will return sometime in the future, but right now I am excited to begin again. 

Eleven Floors of Art

Yesterday, I went to visit the Artomatic in Arlinginton, VA. This is an event where an old office building is filled with art before it is torn down. In this case, the 11 story building housed over 1,300 artists. Imagining that each artist presented 10 pieces, that is over 13,000 pieces of art. I confess; I didn’t see it all. We visited about 3.5 floors before I experienced art burnout. I wish I hadn’t waiting until the last day to go, but had planned several days so that I had a chance to experience and savor all the art.

Well, maybe not all the art. One of the wonderful things about artomatic is there is no gate keeper. There is no juror inflicting his particular taste on the show. There is no austere woman telling artists they are not good enough. On the other hand, one of the bad things about the Artomatic is that there is no gatekeeper saying that someone might need to practice a little more before they try to show some work. Everyone and anyone can exhibit. This lack of a gatekeeper creates quite the diverse experience.

What I came to realize while wandering through is that I don’t appreciate most art. I don’t get it. I don’t think it’s beautiful. I could do without it. That said, I don’t believe my opinion on should make a difference to anyone except me (and maybe my husband who might be inspired to buy me artwork). I’ve often wondered what other people saw in the art they decided to hang in their homes. I have no love of pastoral landscapes or elephants working in India. I don’t want to continually look at scenes from city streets or people at work or play. I don’t want to take the time to delve into the meaning of a piece of art. I want to see it and have everything it is conveyed to me in a blast of wonder. Then maybe I’ll be interested in what the artist was thinking. As I wandered through the Artomatic, I felt like I was just walking through rooms of noise with the occasional moment of silence when I found the art that spoke to me. These tended to be macro-photographs of nature, serene natural or abstract paintings, trees of any kind and anything with beautiful lines or bold colors. In other words, art that felt soothing. I hate to confess it, but I also walked out being amazed at how much bad art there was in the world. That is a secret, mean thought, so please don’t tell anyone. However, whenever I have mean thoughts, I am rarely content to let them stand unassailed. I must investigate and break them down to their primal elements. After ruminating over this thought for a day or so, I finally came to an epiphany. Art is about taste. I know, that ‘s boring and unoriginal, but here come the original part. My artistic taste reflects my preference for how I live my life. I love being in nature and often long for the childhood days where I could be out in the world and never hear the sound of mankind. I love the quiet wind in the trees. I love the small changes that happen every day from the bursting of a flower to the sprouting of a fungal castle on a rotting log. Art is supposed to inspire emotion and I hate being riled up, sad or riddled with angst. I want to be soothed or humored. So of course I am not going to appreciate art depicting riotous crowds on city streets or profound political messages. However, I realize as an introvert, I am in the minority preferring to be away from people and the riot of life. The type of life I enjoy is directly reflected in the type of art I enjoy. And for other people, I am absolutely positive this is true as well. So people who love mankind and civilization are going to love art based on it. I am sure many of those people walk into the rooms where I linger and walk right back out again because they are bored out of their mind. That’s OK. More solitude for me. So, I am so glad I went to Artomatic for the sole reason that it allowed me to reach this realization. Without seeing so much art in one place, I doubt I would have muddled it out. The new look on art will also have bearing on the perception of my own art. When I show my art to people, everyone seems to love it, but few people want to buy it. I won’t deny there was a little sting in that. For many years, I have tried to bend my subject matter to more mainstream subjects, with the hope that I would make some sales, but I could never really get there. I don’t think I could paint a bowl of fruit if my life depended on it. The few mainstream pieces I have painted, I got through solely on the challenge of the work, not inspiration from the subject matter. My recent epiphany has led me to the conclusion that I shouldn’t try to change. There are people out there for me. They are just a smaller set of the population than the fruit and barn lovers and it will take longer for us to find each other. Thanks Artomatic for giving all those artists a chance to reach their people and for leading me to a new way of looking at art.

 Also, just a quick promo of the artists I know who displayed art at the Artomatic.

Jennifer Stone – Definitely one of my people
Blair Jackson – Not for me, but I could easily knock off 75% of my Christmas list in her art store.
Lisa M. – Her art makes me smile.

Harry Potter Tent

As I think constantly about writing, even when I am not writing, random thoughts often pop into my head. Here’s a sampling.

I have a tent. It is a two person tent and somewhat sentimental since it was the very first piece of camping equipment that was all mine and shiny new. That was over a decade ago now, but for one glorious summer I lived in that tent in adult summer camp, (AKA as a research assistant). A couple days ago, I set it up in the sunroom for Sabrina to play in. Little did I know that in the years since I had set it up, it had acquired a musty, pee smell. Don’t ask me where this smell came from since it has always been stored in a dry place and I don’t make a habit of peeing on or in my tents. However this smell has pervaded the sunroom and makes me completely glad I’m not obligated to sleep in the tent. It also brings to mind the tent in Harry Potter that is described as smelling of cat pee. The description passed over me at the time as something of little concern, but after having minimal contact with my own pee tent, I refuse to buy the idea that anyone could have happily cloistered themselves in a pee tent for any length of time. I’ll bet you it wasn’t “you know who” or horcruxes making them cranky, but the constant smell of cat pee. So if you are a writer, be careful about what smells you subject your characters to and be sure they react properly.

Next random thought: I am listening to Elizabeth Gaskell’s book, Wives and Daughters. There is a character who used to pride herself on her very pretty blushes. In fact, if you read literature of bygone eras, blushes were then often praised as a woman’s booty-liciousness is praised now. In modern literature a blush has been reduced to an embarrassing reddening of the face and is not considered an asset. Why is that? Well, I blame makeup. Between cover up and rouge, the only blushes that would be visible would be the ones from extreme embarrassment that would bring the blush right up into the ears. The last time I blushed like that was after doing something completely stupid and it was definitely not a “pretty” moment or result. So, moral of the story: Blushes are dead (so don’t write about them) and Booty-liciousness is in (so round out your prose to your heart’s content.)

Well, writing randomness is at an end. Happy writing or tweeting or facebooking or whatever. 

Moments of Bliss

I started going to a counselor today for anxiety. She repeated some of the same things I've been reading about in a book called Mindfulness. The idea of mindfulness is about living in the present, actually experiencing the moment instead of running on autopilot. How many times have you suddenly come back into yourself and realized that you drove all the way to work, but can’t remember the drive? Happens to me all the time. This book is about taking back your life moment by moment. It’s big on meditation and one of the meditation practices is about eating a raisin. In this meditation you use all your senses to fully appreciate the raisin. The idea is to be fully and completely present for the experience. But you don’t need a raisin or meditation for this moment. It happens all the time. Every time you take that first sip of the uber choco mega foamed crumbly carmel delight you get as a treat, you are fully present in that moment. It happens every time you take that first bite of a meal in a restaurant. First kiss! When you have that first kiss with someone really special, are you thinking about how you need to wash your car? NO! You 100% focused on the present moment and all the physical sensations happening. How about that moment when you first relax into your bed, snug under your covers ready to go to sleep? Makes me smile just thinking about it. There are a million moments where we are fully present and attentive, but the real tragedy is how quickly we let them go and move back into our harried existence. The second sip might as well be dishwater for all the attention we pay it. And how quickly the shine rubs off that new relationship. The instant you are comfortable in bed, your mind starts racing ahead to tomorrow. Instead of realizing how much we ignore in life, we seek out those moments by buying a super coffee treat every day, every hour, until the specialness has worn away because we are no longer taking the time to be mindful of the experience. Yet we remember those moments of mindfulness and seek them out and compare the rest of our lives to them. So, I guess I am saying to enjoy the second sip and the last sip just as much as that first sip. Extend out your moment of bliss if you can.

            Just a note on mediation. I made a commitment to myself to meditate every day for just 15 min. I kept the promise today and found it enjoyable. I was very calm and centered afterward. That lasted all of 5 minutes. Then I opened my computer and started reading the twitter feed. I could feel my calm center fragmenting away into little pieces as I skimmed down. I found myself reading a story about murder even though I didn’t want to read about murder, but had to read because I didn’t know what a conker was. Then I had to google a conker. And it was, as the article said, a ridiculous reason to murder someone. And it was ridiculous that I was reading about it. I had in just a few minutes managed to stray from my calm center into the chaos of the very large global world we live in. I resolved right there to unfollow a bunch of twitter feeds like BBC. I thought it would be a good way to keep informed since I don’t watch or read the news, but really, if a catastrophe occurs, someone will tell me about it. So, time to declutter and enjoy another sip of cinnamon tea.

Rose Solar light

I made a solar rose using milk jugs. I am pretty stoked about it. Here's how to make your own.

Supplies: Cheap Solar light, Tape, White Spray Paint (not Krylon), Scissors, 1-2 cleaned milk jugs, Hot glue gun, Spare Hot glue gun (in case the first one explodes in a fiery death), Glue sticks, wooden skewer or chopstick, and extra fingers to replace the burned ones. 

 Disassemble the light. Keep the stake for gardening or other craft projects. For this project you only need the part that houses the light.

 Cover the light bulb and the solar panel with tape. Spray paint until coated in white. I used Krylon white and it came out a little tacky. Hopefully you will have better luck with a different brand.

For the very center of the rose I used a piece of the handle from a 1/2 gallon and started gluing petals from there. Use the skewer to press the petals in place until the glue hardens so you don't burn your fingers.

 If your glue starts smoking and the glue comes out yellow, please throw it out before it explodes.*

*Note that the glue stick in the barrel has turned black.
*In other news, I now know that when facing a ball of fire, I do not scream like a baby, but curse like a sailor. Hopefully my toddler never learns this fact about me.

Tip 1 - Use a sharp pencil to etch your line into the milk jug and then you won't have to worry about the line of say a marker showing on your petals.

Tip 1 - It helps to have a curve on attachment point of the petal. They sit in place better.

Tip 2 - The inner petals should be smaller, but the outer petals can all be cut from the same pattern.

And here is your finished rose.

Now, I have some ideas about what I could do with my rose. The important thing is to be aware of how light will charge your rose. The solar panel has to get some light.

1) Flip it over during the day to charge and then use it like a tea light at night. 

2) Cut a loop (see below) to glue around the light and hang it in a window, sun room or on a tree outside for a floating, glowing rose. 

3) Make more and more and more of them to great a hanging, spiraling rose chandelier! 

If you have ideas for where to put them, please comment below. Happy Up-cycling!

Art brain

I don’t want to edit anymore. I want to paint and draw, so why fight it. Here’s a picture of the background progress on my Ice Dragon. I like it! It looks like velvet. It’s slow work, but also very zen.

I also got a book called Perspective by David Chelsea (recommended by RuthLampi at Balticon). It's an awesome book and is totally blowing my mind. I have wanted to learn to paint distant landscapes and cityscapes forever. A few years ago, I took an art class for just such a purpose, but it turned out to be useless. I have been really discouraged about it since. None of the books seemed to have what I was looking for. They all seemed to talk about fading into the distance and all. I understood, but it never looked right when I tried it. This book is teaching me why and I love it. It feels like I have been given the keys to the kingdom of art or something and I am only a third of the way through the book! I think all this time I have been looking for a class on perspective, but that's not something they teach in community art classes.  I used to figure out perspective slow way - with trial and error, but now I’ve been given rules and tools to use. Watch out world! Anyway, I love learning new things! Here is a sketch I did last night while learning the rules. It’s not much, but you can see the beginnings of a city block and it doesn’t look wonky! 

These are some flags I designed  on a whim for the novel I am writing. They are just design sketches, but they make me happy!

Let’s call it research…

I started looking for books on survival in extreme cold and/or the art of sled dogging. I am calling it research because I wrote a novel last year that was set in a very cold climate and I am sure, despite having grown up in the frigid upper peninsula of Michigan, I have made a few mistakes that will cause experts to rupture their frostbitten anatomical bits in outrage at my ignorance. So after some searching, I found “Ten thousand Miles with a Dog Sled” written by Hudson Stock in 1914 about both survival and sled dogs. It has proven interesting so far, but a bit hard to follow with all the side notes.

Already I have learned that the extreme temperatures I had proposed for my novel would make the journey impossible because 1) coal oil freezes at 40 below, 2) acetylene requires water, which also freezes and 3) Batteries, which have not been invented yet in my story world, also freeze. The only thing that seems to work in extreme cold is actual fire and wood. Of course my character is traveling across a barren, treeless windswept snowy wasteland, where there is nothing to burn. I guess there will be some rewriting involved here.

            The author is very good about describing the various methods of traveling over treacherous terrain, which has been interesting and informative, but he glossed over the terrain that was most like the one in my story. I guess this means I wrote it correctly in that there isn’t much to tell about the difficulties. I may go back and add some more obstacles just for fun though, like rivers bursting through the ice like a geyser from the pressure building up below the frozen surface. Sounds fun doesn’t it!

Also a few quotes struck me as amusing so I thought I would share them here since we can assume that he was writing these quotes in about 1912 and so they were written 100yrs ago.

“The time threatens when all the world will speak two or three great languages, when all little tongues will be extinct and all little peoples swallowed up, when all costume will be reduced to a dead level of blue jeans and shoddy and all strange customs abolished” (His description of the treatment of Alaskan natives reminds me of modern day treatment of the indigenous people of the Rainforest. Over a century later and we still haven't learned any better.)

“The phonograph is becoming a powerful agency for disseminating a knowledge of English among the natives throughout Alaska, and one wishes that it were put to better use than the reproduction of silly and often vulgar monologue and dialogue and trashy ragtime music.” (I wonder how he would feel about reality TV and Jersey Shore.)

Where have all the happy books gone?

Once upon a time, I would count down the days until my monthly audible credits for audio books and when I would mark the calendar for releases of the latest book release in about a dozen series I was reading. Not so any more. I have credits piling up, waiting for me to use them. I have gift cards languishing waiting to be converted into literary adventures. I learn about the new releases months later through the ‘recommended for you’ page. What happened to me?

The truth is I am afraid of books. They grab a hold of me and suck me into a vortex of terror, anguish and fascination. I can’t put them down. I stay up too late. When I had a job, I would occasionally skip a day of work. And even when I wasn’t reading, I was still preoccupied with the story so that I was just coasting through life while my brain was elsewhere. Even worse than the addiction, were the mood changes. When I read a story where the POV character is in constant danger, my mood takes a down swing and I can actually head into a mini depression over it. I had to stop reading several epic fantasy series because of this. Now, when I get a new book, it might sit in the queue for a while before I get up the nerve to read it. So where did this sudden aversion to reading come from? I think it has to do with the tone of books that are available today. Even series that begin in a light hearted way such as Harry Potter seem to eventually go over to the dark side.

So where are the happy, inspiring books? Why do books always have to be about the darkest parts of human nature? Remember to the classics where the worst event may be a death by heart attack or an unsanctioned marriage (Anne of Green Gables, and Jane Austen books) yet millions of people still read these books. My favorite romance of all time is between Anne and Gilbert, but they never even kiss. And I am not a prude either. I enjoyed all of Sookie Stackhouse’s romps as much as the next girl but that kind of thing doesn’t feed the soul. I think current books lack a wholesome, feel good sort of nourishment. We’ve gone too far in the other extreme with sex and violence.

I heard recently that books/movies are a way to teach a person how to react in a situation. So watching a horror flick teaches you how to handle fear. Not necessarily the actions of the characters, but your own physical experience of adrenaline and decision paralysis. I think heard this on Writing Excuses. (Love that podcast!) Anyway, so if we can teach people how to experience fear, worry, horror, sadness, why can’t we teach them all the other things to? I am not talking about pleasure and happiness, but things like making the right decision (even though it was hard), and being rewarded for it. Too often in current entertainment, we take the ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ approach and all good people are trodden on. (Look what happened to Eddard Stark, all for helping out his friend). It seems like the lesson is if you’re a good person, you will be punished. White hat characters are out of fashion. Everyone is ecstatic about grey characters and I understand the need to get away from strictly black and white characters, but like everything else, there are varying degrees of greyness. Not every bad character has to start out good and go bad. Not every good man has to be tempted into evil or be ruined because he resisted. Sometimes characters are white and always do the right thing and sometimes people are just plain bad. Not every character has to be some shade of grey. I think this urge to mix everything up has taken away the contrasts and left us with the muddy color which is about as satisfying as blending your ice cream sundae with a liverwurst sandwich. So let’s step back a little and let a few characters be white or black and get what they deserve. You know who does this well? Joss Whedon.

Think about Firefly. Simon makes the tough but right choice to sacrifice his comfortable life to save his sister. There is nothing twisted about their relationship, but an honest to goodness sibling love and loyalty. He is a good character (but not perfect) and in the end he and his sister are free. Kaylee is upbeat and loveable. Sometimes bad things happen to her, but it never destroys her and in the end she gets what she wants. Captain Tightpants tries so hard to be a dark man, but always does the right thing. Wash…sad. But he died in his moment of triumph. There was no endless torturing of the audience making us feel hopeless, horrible and helpless. No, his death was clean and the remaining characters felt the grief for us so we could shed a few tears and move on with life. I could go on about Firefly/Serenity forever, but my point is that there is enough of the wholesome meat of life in the story to develop a near cult following despite its short run. Imagine how differently you would feel if Wash had died during torture and Zoey had turned bitter. What if Mal and Inara got their lust on right away and never felt anything deeper? What if they never managed to reform Jayne, but left him the bastard he was and eventually had to shoot him? Hard to imagine, but it happens in so many stories where the instant arousal of emotional response of with sex, death or damnation has replaced the more real feelings of love, loss and eventual triumph. This, I think is the root of my dread of modern books. They torture and wrangle me without the payoff of the deeper feelings.

Anyway my challenge to all you F and SF writers out there. How about some meaningful, inspiring stories that don’t involve the end of the world or the maiming of any of your characters? I include myself in this challenge because my stories are as dark as the rest. Oh, and please stop destroying the world/life as we know it. Apocalypse is dead. (Haha!)