"Awake" and "Touch" in that order - the other way around would be creepier Cynthia 11:19 AM

I belong to a critique group I've been attending for more than a decade now. I used to attend weekly, but it's been more "not" than "often" lately due to necessary life changes. The first time I went, I introduced myself to these four lovely ladies and handed them my AMAZING mid-grade novel which they...tore it to shreds. With four lovely smiles. I went home thinking they were the most terrible people I'd ever met. It took me a couple of weeks to muster up enough courage to go back and try it again. Now, I expect and adore their criticism. If they don't give me enough, I'll hand my story back to them and tell them I need more. No, I'm not a glutton for punishment, I just know that I need their input. I've learned to treasure it. And they're more than my critique group. They're my friends.

One of the women in my group has had four of her YA books published. She tells us that she spends a lot of time reading current publications and watching current television shows as research for her novels. I already read way too much, but it's mostly literature that's more than 50 years old. So I've been getting out of my comfort zone lately and reading more contemporary novels interspersed with my Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Edmund Spenser. I read some things I enjoy very much and some I enjoy not as much.

I've also started watching more television online (Hulu, CWTV, Fox, and ABC) and as a result, I've discovered two new television shows I think I might love. They are "Awake" and "Touch." They are both puzzle shows, which I adore. One was recommended to me by a friend, and the other I found quite by accident.

"Awake" is about a detective who lost either his wife or son in a car accident depending on which reality he wakes up in that morning. He has different therapists in each reality and works different cases, but sometimes there's an overlap between realities and the watcher is left wondering what is real and what is a dream.

 "Touch" stars Keifer Sutherland. He plays the father of an autistic boy who sees the world through numbers. The boy has not spoken a word in his life, but communicates through cryptic patterns. Once interpreted by his frazzled father, his messages help stop sometimes catastrophic - sometimes minor events from happening. So far it's been a great show. I'm interested to see how it holds up.

Starting May 1st, I'll be writing another novel in 30 days. This one will be a Winesburg, Ohio-style collection of grotesques set at a university. It's going to be different from anything I've ever written before, so I'm exited about it. I have five days to lay down the ground work and next Tuesday, the madness begins. My oldest son will be joining me this time, working on a novel of his own. He's been waiting not-so-patiently for me to be ready. Well Jaed. I'm ready.

Blog off.

Jonathan and the Bog Bodies Cynthia 4:58 PM

I haven't spied on anyone this week for character reference, but I have been thinking a lot about the complexity of a human being. You can't describe an acquaintance to their fullest--no matter how well you think you know them, neither you nor they really know what makes them who they are. I can summarize my most basic character traits, but someone else will have different perceptions of what makes me Cynthia. Some people see me as aloof and complicated, while others see me as friendly and giving. Still others may say I'm fun-loving and goofy. And they'd all be right. I'm those and more--everyone is. 


Sadly, we don't often take the time to get past our first impressions. We see, we judge, we move on. A good example of someone who blew away people's expectations--who took an audience from bored skepticism to a tear-filled standing ovation is Jonathan Antoine. You can watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kt3Utn4mjeg&feature=player_embedded. I don't know what else to say about this video. I get emotional every time I watch it.


Below is another one of my favorite Seamus Heaney poems. This one is called The Bog Queen If you're not familiar with bog bodies, go here to educate yourself: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2007/09/bog-bodies/bog-bodies-text. In short, they are bodies preserved in the bog-- discolored and leathered over time--but preserved so well that they were sometimes mistaken for modern bodies. According to my limited research, the time frame for these bodies ranges fromI haven't spied on anyone this week for character reference, but I have been thinking a lot about the complexity of a human being. You can't describe an acquaintance to their fullest--no matter how well you think you know them, neither you nor they really know what makes them who they are. I can summarize my most basic character traits, but someone else will have different perceptions of what makes me Cynthia. Some people see me as aloof and complicated, while others see me as friendly and giving. Still others may say I'm fun-loving and goofy. And they'd all be right. I'm those and more--everyone is. 


Sadly, we don't often take the time to get past our first impressions. We see, we judge, we move on. A good example of someone who blew away people's expectations--who took an audience from bored skepticism to a tear-filled standing ovation is Jonathan Antoine. You can watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kt3Utn4mjeg&feature=player_embedded. I don't know what else to say about this video. I get emotional every time I watch it.


Below is another one of my favorite Seamus Heaney poems. This one is called the bog queen If you're not familiar with bog bodies, go here to educate yourself: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2007/09/bog-bodies/bog-bodies-text. In short, they are bodies preserved in the bog-- discolored and leathered over time--but preserved so well that they were sometimes mistaken for modern bodies. According to my limited research, the time frame for these bodies ranges from 1600-1300 BCE to 1290-1430 CE


198. THE BOG QUEEN - Seamus Heaney

I lay waiting
between turf-face and demesne wall,
between heathery levels
and glass-toothed stone.
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The Tolund Man - 4th century BCE

My body was braille
for the creeping influences:
dawn suns groped over my head
and cooled at my feet,

through my fabrics and skins
the seeps of winter
digested me,
the illiterate roots

pondered and died
in the cavings
of stomach and socket.
I lay waiting

on the gravel bottom,
my brain darkening.
a jar of spawn
fermenting underground

dreams of Baltic amber.
Bruised berries under my nails,
the vital hoard reducing
in the crock of the pelvis.

My diadem grew carious,
gemstones dropped
in the peat floe
like the bearings of history.

My sash was a black glacier
wrinkling, dyed weaves
and Phoenician stitchwork
retted on my breasts'

soft moraines.
I knew winter cold
like the nuzzle of fjord
sat my thighs––

the soaked fledge, 
the heavyswaddle of hides.
My skull hibernated
in the wet nest of my hair.

Which they robbed.
I was barbered
and stripped
by a turfcutter's spade

who veiled me again
and packed coomb softly
between the stone jamb
sat my head and my feet.

Till a peer's wife bribed him.
The plait of my hair
a slimy birth-cord
of bog, had been cut

and I rose from the dark,
hacked bone, skull-ware,
frayed stitches, tufts,
small gleams on the bank.