Two Myths about Adulthood that I’ve Been Buying Into

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Over the Christmas break, besides eating too many holiday leftovers, I’ve been studying for my comprehensive exams and attempting to choose a novel on which to write my thesis. You see, I’m graduating in about five months, and the list of poetic terms and other Englishy facts sitting on my desk continue to remind me of that fact – or rather, of the fact that I may not graduate if I don’t manage to memorize all those terms. I know, I know: English major problems.

But to the point of this post. I’m graduating from college in five months. Which means that I will organize myself, find a real job, and start my life. Then, in a few years, I will probably get married, “settle down,” and have kids.

These things are good, exciting. But also terrifying (especially to someone still trying to figure out how to make rice and other such household foods). As I was reflecting on these things, realizing that this semester of college will be filled with a lot of “lasts” only to be followed by a lot of “firsts,” I suddenly realized a myth inherent in my logic. There are two myths, actually, that I think are quite embedded in the minds of many people my age, and perhaps even in the minds of those older than us.

Well, perhaps they aren’t myths, but rather poor word choices that lead to a faulty way of conceiving of life. I’m not sure who to blame for these poor word choices – college counselors, society at large, Buzzfeed, my own thinking? But rather than condemn the source, I’d like to right the wrong.

Myth #1: Your life starts when you finish school and start the job you’ve always dreamed of.

Okay, so I do think it’s important to be a responsible adult and find a steady job in order to support yourself. Finishing school is also a good plan. But, as far as I can tell, your life actually started about nine months before you were born, and it’s been going strong ever since. The idea that your life doesn’t start until you have your dream job – or even a good job – is actually a really dangerous one. Very few people get their dream job right out of school; that doesn’t mean you’re a failure and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re stuck in some sort of limbo between life and…pre-life? Life is right now, and feeding the idea that you’re wasting your time not living simply because you don’t have the right job is kind of depressing.

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I think this might have something to do with the fact that when we ask someone what they do, we’re usually asking them what their job is, as if that is the only thing that they do, and the only thing that defines them. It’s another poor word choice. Your job is not who you are, and no matter what you do, I don’t think it should be your whole life.

Myth #2: When you get married, you “settle down.”

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 There are two aspects to this one. Firstly, it’s the idea that there’s nothing settled about your life until you’re married. Secondly, it’s the idea that marriage involves settling down, a grating term for a lot of young people because I think it sounds like your life is now over. You get married, you settle down and…no one cares anymore.

Now I do think marriage is a beautiful thing. It’s sharing your life with your best friend and making this crazy journey with him/her.

But I have quite a few amazing friends who are getting tired of being asked when they are going to “find somebody,” as if there is something lacking in their lives because they haven’t. The cliché really is true that you don’t need someone to complete you; it’s certainly wonderful to have someone in your life, but it’s not as though your life is empty or stagnant until you find him/her.

I also have some amazing friends who recently got engaged; but when I look at their lives, I really don’t think of them as “settling down.”

Personally I think this is a terrible phrase. A terrifying one. Like when you were a little kid and you got all excited about something and someone told you to “settle down.” To me the phrase really just sounds like nothing exciting will ever happen to you again. It follows right from the idea that your life “starts” at some point other than the beginning of it; your life obviously “ends” at some point other than, well, the end.

This may in fact be the fault of Disney princess movies, where the action always ends after the marriage. Story’s over, no one cares anymore.

Photo courtesy of enlightphoto.com

But this seems quite far from the truth. The story keeps going. As I complained to my boyfriend about this ignominious phrase, he suggested that instead of “settling down” people should say “taking off,” a mere change in wording that implies a whole new set of adventures.

I think the point of this blog is that there are adventures at every period of your life. One little thing (like graduating from college) doesn’t start or end the exciting part of living. It’s all right now. The future is bright, but so is the present.

The Courage of Conviction (and other lunch specials)

Anyone who has ever been to a restaurant with me might question my ability to make decisions.

I don’t think I’m the only girl who has ever struggled with the plethora of options at Chili’s or the fear of choosing a new restaurant and not knowing what’s good there. You only get that ONE meal ONE time, and if you order the wrong thing, well, you don’t get to eat for another five hours (or three, or two, you know, depending).

But I digress. I think the thing that makes me most anxious about decisions is the fear that I am making the wrong one.

I guess that’s why we call it decision making and not something less daunting like decision arriving. It implies the permanency of it. And, if we’ve learned anything from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, making implies responsibility.

I think the multiplicity of options out there today – be it for your lunch or for your career – while beneficial, also creates an increased sense of anxiety. When there are so many options, how are you supposed to pick just one? And if you do pick just one, how can you ever know that it was the right one? After all, you didn’t try all the others. 

My mom tells a story about a guy she dated long before she met my dad. They dated for awhile, and then one day he took her to dinner and explained that he was struggling with something. He wanted to try dating other girls, just for fun, just to play the field and see what other options were out there. But he didn’t want to lose my mom. So he asked if she would be his “steady girl” while he dated around.

“You can date other girls,” my mom told him.

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re the best.”

“You can date other girls,” my mom repeated. “But don’t expect me to wait around.” And she walked out of the restaurant and never looked back.

You see, you can’t try everything, not without missing the opportunity to really cherish something. I have learned that, yes, being careful in your decisions is a good thing. But I have also learned the importance of conviction. If you have made a decision earnestly, don’t waste your time floundering about, worrying that it was the wrong decision.

Maybe this advice isn’t for everyone, especially in a world in which we justify many of our decisions based upon what “feels good.” But I also believe that a large population of millenials struggle so much to make decisions that we end up not making a decision at all.

Conviction in your career, your relationships, even your lunch choice, will get you farther than trying every option out there.

 

 

Whispers of An Enchantress – Book Two of the Whispers series

I’m excited to announce the upcoming release of the sequel to Whispers of Nightfall. Whispers of an Enchantress is set to release on November 11, 2014. Copies will be available for pre-order in the weeks leading up to the release date.

I’m very happy with how this book is coming to completion. The cover (thanks to the design team at Tate Publishing) is just what I was hoping for. Book two is filled with a lot more action, intrigue, and adventure than book one, and I hope it can bring as much excitement to your life as it has brought to mine. 

 

Lauria has set out on a journey with her sister, Shaye, to try to save her from the dishonor of her unplanned pregnancy. It is when her path crosses that of the stubborn soldier, Jestun, that she discovers a new dilemma. He suspects her of having deeper powers and she cannot decide if she can trust him with her secret.

As Jestun faces trial for a crime he did not commit, the Darkbeings are drawing closer, grasping for the fate of Austurea. Jestun must decide how to deal with his father’s dishonorable past and Lauria must discern the task set before her by Lightriver if she wants to save her family and her homeland.

Whispers of an Enchantress is the second installment of the four-part Whispers Series that began with Whispers of Nightfall.

 

 

My Quarter Life Crisis

A little while ago I wrote a post called “My Take on Genre-Part 1.” When I posted it, I felt a little bit as though I had more to say on the topic. So I’m designating this post, “Part 2.”

I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching this summer (but what about-to-enter-senior-year-college-student hasn’t?). This soul-searching, besides copious amounts of chocolate and pink bubbly wine, has consisted of me complaining to my boyfriend that I don’t know what I want to do with my life. (To which he responded by giving me more chocolate…a wise man really). But what I think I really meant–what I’ve been struggling with since I finished the rough draft of the last book of the Whispers series–is that I don’t know what to write. A quarter life crisis for an author.

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I’ve written in the fantasy genre for most of my life. Inspired by Tolkien and Lewis, I’ve created lands with outrageous creatures and impossible-to-pronounce names. I loved it, and I still love it, by why all of a sudden do I wonder if its what I want to write?

Perhaps its because at a few book signings I have had people raise an eyebrow when I tell them my book is fantasy. “No. Not that kind of fantasy,” I attempt to explain.

Perhaps its because I’m contemplating an MFA in creative writing, in which the focus is usually literary fiction, not genre fiction.

Perhaps its because I’ve heard people (and I mean the voices of the oh-so-wise Internet) say that fantasy is really just a child’s genre. And, well, don’t I want to write like an intelligent adult?

I do, of course. I want to explore the possibilities of writing like Marilynne Robinson, of writing about “things I know” rather than just the made up, impossible worlds. But does that mean I have to give up those fantasy worlds altogether? Wouldn’t I disappoint someone — a lot of people — if I gave up writing books like the ones I’ve written?

I’ve struggled through this, chocolate bar in hand, for quite some time. It was my boyfriend, really, who finally said, “Alexa, write whatever you want.”

And he was right, of course. One genre does not restrict me forever. And what is more, one genre does not restrict the intelligence or the merit of what I write. Ultimately, all fiction-literature is made up. Whether I’m writing about dragons or Texas, kings or grandfathers, the point is that I’m seeking the truth. I think I write fantasy because it is one of the few genres that still probes the big questions — questions about good and evil, love and destiny. If I can still delve into those questions in everything I write, then it doesn’t matter what I write.

All I have to do is keep writing.

Why I’ll Never Settle in a Relationship (the book lover’s version)

“Mom, renting books is evil. It’s like getting a divorce after you’ve been married for four months.”

That’s what I told my mother when she suggested that I rent some of my school books instead of racking up credit card debt by buying all of them. I was quite proud of my analogy. She only laughed at me (That’s how she usually responds when I’m being over-dramatic; it’s probably a good thing).

But the fact is, ordering books is perhaps the most painful activity for me each semester. And it’s not just the cost.

For one, the most practical means of doing so is through the Internet, which means I don’t even get an excuse to wander through a bookstore for hours, drooling over books. (I could, but it would cost a lot more and take a lot longer.)

Secondly, and even more painfully, there’s the dreaded “used or new” decision (because, as I’ve already said, renting is out of the question).

If earning money was directly correlated to number-of-words-typed-per-day, I would buy all of my books new.

My friends often wonder at this tendency. Why not take a used copy of Joyce, with highlighting and notes in the margin, elucidating his esoteric prose?

No. I would rather stumble through run-on sentences and mixed metaphors on my own, thank you very much. And then I can go crying to my professors. Besides, where are my scribbles going to fit?

Granted, sometimes water stains add that vintage appeal, but then my OCD side comes out and I ask, “Is that really water?”

We are always being told to have high standards. Don’t settle for something that’s already been loved and handled by someone else. How can you even trust it? Who knows what false notes might be transcribed along the spine, who knows what pages might be missing? I’ve been waiting my whole life for that special copy of “The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Literature, 3rd Edition.” Why should I settle for used goods?

Okay. I settle because I could buy it for $30.00 instead of $80.00. And beneath that record of its past, it’s still the same anthology on the inside, with the same lovely words and stories.

I know I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t all books deserve the chance to be loved unconditionally? Someone has abandoned these poor, helpless books to the recesses of the Internet. I see it as my mission to love them forever.

And well, old books are kind of cool.

(But I’m still not renting. Never renting.)

What I do with to do lists (and other German words)

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I pride myself on keeping up with my schedule. In other words, I am what you might call “checklist happy.” Sometimes I think that the only reason I write everything down in my planner is so I can check them off later.

Google Images

I know that I can’t be the only person who takes extreme pleasure in a list of activities, ordered by time or importance, scratched out subsequently. It just looks pretty. And it fills me with a sense of accomplishment that surpasses the actual accomplishment. I confess that I occasionally write something in my planner AFTER I have completed it, just so I can check it off. 

This is such a joy of mine that I decided (in my desperate attempt to prove that I’m not alone) to Google it and see if I could find a word that encompasses the emotion. Unfortunately, English (being English) has no suitable word. German, however, (and to my utter delight), does.

Entlistungsfruede: “the satisfaction achieved by crossing things off lists” (thank you touch2touch.wordpress.com).

I have no idea how to pronounce it, but it’s quite comforting to know that such a word exists and that people are using it on a daily (perhaps hourly) basis. 

So here is my list for the day:

1. Write blog post about the joys of checking things off lists (check)
2. Find the word that sums up this feeling, even if it happens to be in German (check)
3. Be lauded by all my friends and followers (I’ll need your help for that one) 

Six Stories in Six Words

Ernest Hemingway. Photo courtesy of Google Images

This week, I can’t think of what to blog. So I’m writing a story…or something like that. Have you ever read Hemingway’s six-word story? It goes like this:

“For sale: Baby shoes, never worn.”

Plenty of people have written their own six-word stories (check out this website; some of them are pretty powerful) and I have always wanted to try it. I don’t quite have Hemmingway’s knack for brevity, which is probably why I couldn’t write just one. Here are my six six-word story attempts. (Sorry if some of them are sad).

His knee hurt. She said no.

The shampoo lied. The child cried.

Patient request: “Don’t tell her yet.”

Closed browser. He loved her more.

“This won’t hurt,” said the dentist.

“Dear God…what do I say?”

My Father, Country Music, and Storytelling

Gene Autry (Courtesy of Google Images)

When I was about eight or nine years old, my dad took me on a “date” to Tioga, Texas. It’s a town of about 1.2 miles and a population of about 810. It is also the official birthplace of Gene Autry, the famous “Singing cowboy.”

But Tioga, Texas and Gene Autry aren’t actually what I remember best about that date.

I remember riding in my dad’s Ford F-250 down a back road as my dad introduced me to country music.

He turned up the station and said, “See, with country music, you can sing about anything. Your best friend, your dog, your tractor.”

I laughed at the silly idea of singing about anything. But, starting then, he planted his love for the genre in my heart. It was a seed that would grow into a life long love of country music.

Lately, after three years of studying English literature, I’ve begun to appreciate country music for even more than it’s range of  subjects. As a writer, I’ve realized the ingenuity that goes into many country songs. Many of them, I believe, are pure poetry.

I won’t go into my list of country music songs that contain aporia or enellage or other literary tropes and schemes. Rather, here are the top five writing rules that I’ve learned from listening to great country songs over the years:

1)    Tell a story: This one may seem obvious. After all, most of us write to tell stories. But I think sometimes we can get too bogged down in our desire to create a metaphor or a moral, thereby forgetting to make stuff happen. Country music, more than any other genre, does a fantastic job of creating the song around an intriguing story.

2)    Don’t play your best card first: There’s a song by Lee Brice called “I Drive Your Truck.” It’s a very sad song about a young man mourning the loss of his brother. But you wouldn’t kn

ow that unless you really paid attention and listened to the whole song. Its chorus creates the intrigue and you have to figure our what he’s talking about by listening. In the same way, good writing draws you in slowly (but not too slowly), building up to a powerful climax.

3)    Know your audience: I know. Not everyone LOVES country music. And, most likely, not everyone will love what you write. You have to find your audience and market to that audience. This was something I had to learn as I began marketing Whispers of Nightfall. Sometimes your story isn’t for everyone. Just like songs about shot guns and Mama’s cooking aren’t for everyone. But once you know your audience, you can write about the things they really care about. A Brad Paisley song describes it as “Your life in a song.”

Brad Paisley, in my opinion one of the most “poetic” of country singers (photo cred. Google Images)

4)    It’s how you say it, not what you say: Obviously, your content matters (see above). But if you think about it, every story that can be told has already been told. It’s up to every writer to figure out how he or she will tell it. Whether it’s the point-of-view you choose, the elegance of your prose, or the dynamism of your voice, you can make (almost) anything engaging. Just think about Jason Aldean’s song about his Big Green Tractor.

5)    Write what you love: This one goes back to my dad’s first praise of country music. If you can sing about anything, you can write about anything. If you have a story you really want to tell, don’t worry about #3 yet; don’t let what you think other people will think stop you. Just write what stirs your heart. Write what makes you sing.

 

 

 

Boxed up Dreams

 

 

In my closet there’s a box that contains my childhood.

The box holds all my old stories and drawings. The stories are composed of misspelled words and color-pencil drawings, princesses and cream-colored ponies, clowns that weren’t evil, and girls who cared more about animals than boys.

I had a dream the other day that I was a little girl and my Playmobil doll-house was still on my dresser (instead of the HP printer that has taken its place). And in that dream, all I wanted to do was play, to make up stories with those little plastic people with smiles plastered on their nose-less faces.

But once they were in my hands — like Woody from Toy Story — they were more alive than I was.

I was driving yesterday, thinking about that dream, and I thought back to those days and asked myself, “What did I even worry about back then?” I racked my brain trying to recall what little things caused me angst and then I realized — I didn’t worry back then. Not really.

Maybe it was because I didn’t have to yet. Or maybe it was because I had not yet bought into the idea that I needed to worry. Each day arrived untainted by the last and free from the taxation of the future.

I know that it is the Romantic in me that is painting this idealized picture of childhood.  Of course part of me wants to go back to that time, before I ever worried about jobs or boys or how to file my taxes. But of course it is only because I’m no longer that age that I can appreciate it like I do now. Only because I’m older that I can talk about my seven year old self as though I were someone else.

What I sincerely hope I still have though, is my faith in the future.

When I go through that box in my closet, I see not only a little girl who was ceased by every story that entered her head, but a little girl who felt those stories meant something. I see a little girl who used commas incorrectly, and a little girl who believed she could do something great. A little girl who wanted to tell a story to share it with others and a little girl who told stories because to not tell them would be to bottle up part of her heart.

What I’m really trying to say is that life fills you with doubts that you never had when you were seven, doubts about the world, about the future, and most of all, doubts about yourself. And sometimes those doubts are essential to help focus those goals. But you can’t let them blot out your dreams. Hold onto them. Believe in them the way you used to believe your toys came to life, the way you believed you could be anything you wanted when you grew up.

And whatever you do, don’t box those dreams up.

My Take on Genre – Part 1

My thoughts were squirming all over the place…filling pages in a notebook, lengthening Microsoft Word Documents, and exceeding any acceptable word count. Hence the “Part 1.”

It’s been hard not to notice the recent debate about one particular genre: YA. It’s such a broad category that it has sub-sub-genres. The article that sparked this debate, entitled Against YA, makes several strong points about why adults should not immerse themselves in Young Adult fiction. ” YA books present the teenage perspective in a fundamentally uncritical way,” says Slate writer Ruth Graham. She argues that adults who spend their time reading YA should be embarrassed because they are not allowing their literary tastes to mature.

Another article, “The real story behind the war over YA novels”, responds to the Slate

article with equally interesting arguments. It explains that adults are reading YA because they can relate to it. “The Millennial generation, unlike others that have gone before it, is facing an unprecedented legacy of broken promises,” says the writer for the Daily Dot. YA offers those adults characters with similar struggles. Like Katniss Everdeen or the characters in The Fault in Our Stars, they are seeking identity, seeking answers to the chaos in the world.

While I agree with many of the points in both articles, I can’t say that either of them is completely right.

I do think we should avoid reading trashy fiction that does nothing to advance the intellect. But I don’t think that completely discounts all YA. Perhaps it’s because my own books can be fit into that category that I think so, but I do know that unless you’ve read every single book in a single genre, there’s no way you can know if it’s a genre worth completely passing over.

I do think that adults today are still seeking identity, but I don’t think that’s anything new. I don’t think Millenials are the only generation that has ever been disenchanted by the world. It’s human nature to seek fulfillment. It’s human nature to ask questions about the world.

And that is why we read.  To find fulfillment, to seek answers. And if it’s a good story, genre shouldn’t matter. If it’s a story that stirs the soul, that searches for the truth, that creates something beautiful – then it is worth reading no matter what the genre.