What If You Slept... - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

What If You Slept...

"What if you slept 
And what if 
In your sleep 
You dreamed 
And what if 
In your dream 
You went to heaven 
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower 
And what if 
When you awoke 
You had that flower in you hand 
Ah, what then?"

           --Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

I'm taking this English Literature class. Never thought I'd see the day, but here I am regardless. Coleridge isn't our particular field of study right now--Blake takes that honor--but the introduction to our next lesson mentioned something about Coleridge and romanticism. Then something about opium and drugs and stuff, but whatever.

The name "Coleridge" had a familiar ring to it, then I remembered: I'd read a poem of his before.

My senior year in high school, Ringwalt would present a poem as a sort of "Bell Ringer" every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to get us thinking analytically about poetry. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I somehow came across this poem through one of those anticipated Bell Ringers.

And I'd forgotten how significant it had been to my novel until now.

I think it's brilliant when authors find a beautifully crafted piece of literature that they can place before each chapter as a precursor of what's yet to come. It ties the author's story to stories from the past and when I read this poem, it took all of my willpower not to break into the Mad Hatter's futterwacken dance. Coleridge's words spoke volumes about my main character's conflict in the book and how she'd have to face them. What her gifts were, the mysticism behind those gifts and the beauty of being able to imagine.

Andrea, my main character, dreams. I mean, we all dream, but she dreams like a manic individual who's life dangles by the frayed threads of a noose. She doesn't take a trip to heaven like Coleridge's speaker, but I guess you can say she pulls an Inferno-minus-the-religion while traversing through dark trials before reaching any form of gratification, mental release.

Along the way Andrea learns a bundle of skills. She learns how to answer Coleridge's pressing question at the end of the poem and she grapples with this ambiguous idea of having the ability to weave the unconscious with waking reality.

If it never becomes my precursor, at least you'll know it should be just by visiting my blog. :)

But until it dons the sacred shelves of bookstores everywhere, what would you think if you were able to pluck a flower from the depths of your dreams?

Side note: Coleridge also says, "Deep thinking is attainable only by a man of deep feeling". How's that for romanticism?

Character Development

"Some books are so familiar that reading them is like being home again." --Louisa May Alcott

It works for writing, too.

Sometimes, if you've worked on a story long enough, the characters become your family, easily transported and accessed. The brain can be quite wondrous, right? Your characters gain qualities that are specific to them, some that drive you crazy and some that are endearing to the point where they can light up a smile. Characters are home, even if our ideal home turns out to be further away than usual.

Moving will eventually be the death of someone--"cough", "cough"--me, since you've got the whirlwind of stuffing things haphazardly wherever's convenient, fretting over forgetting what's impossible to mail, and making the treacherous ten-hour dash to your new destination (by car, in a monsoon, in the abominable death-trap known as Atlanta). You have the maddening task of dodging the first-time mover flurry, learning the basic ropes, unpacking the crap you probably won't ever use, and remembering how to breathe. Only after the busy stuff can you breathe...and/or sleep. It's your choice. Choose wisely.

All of this occurred on three hours of sleep, mind you.
   
Needless to say, it takes a lot to move from North Carolina to Alabama and to leave family in order to readjust, undergo a new lifestyle. When the mover blues have you suffocating in the dumps, a little taste of home becomes a necessity.
 
Here's where the cast of your characters comes into play.
   
I know that to be a good writer one has to be a superb researcher. I also know that I've done a lot of research on character development. Like, a lot a lot. All of our wise friends in the cyberworld advise that you make your character unique, give them realistic qualities and flaws. Try some people-watching--what better way to humanize a person than to observe an actual human being?
 
But if you've got a short attention span and a lack of personal discipline like me, these things may not work out. When it comes to building top-notch characters, when it comes to their relationships and their interests and their flaws, there's only one way to get to the heart of those genuine qualities, in my opinion.
   
Understand patience and understand time.
   
I mentioned a book I've been working on in a previous post and how that book's been on the shelves in my head for about five years now. One of my characters, Meredith, doesn't understand how to reason with people politely. She can force you to learn just about anything, but she can't entirely empathize, so much so that her idea of tough love is doing things and learning things her way or else you've got a bad case of stupidity. She's rough, she's fast-paced, and her words are sharper than a gusty-galed sleet storm.
   
Backtrack four years. In the first draft, Meredith had a knack for encouraging smiles and blinding optimism--nothing could stop that girl from finding the positives in a haystack of negatives. Oh, how things have changed twenty billion drafts later, am I right? Over the span of her long development, Meredith gained the strength to form her own voice and her own characteristics so I wouldn't have to hunt for them. All characters tend to do that for me once I find the patience and the time for them; when they gain that powerful nature that good characters should have, they're characters we look forward to seeing and living with whether we're in Alabama or North Carolina or freaking Antarctica.
   
Characters grow and when they do, they form a vibrant dwelling in your mind you can always go to when you need them.
   
Your characters are your family and they always, always welcome you home with open arms.

Essays, Anyone?

I recently remembered this essay of mine I wrote a couple of years ago in a high school English class. The prompt had something to do with building our own Utopian societies and I just so happened to have an idea in mind from a right-brained, left-brained lesson in my Art class earlier that morning.

The project really got me thinking about what would happen if we could only use one part of our minds and it's been suggested that I create something more out of it one day--there's definitely some potential! But I'll let you decide. Which side would you choose if you could pick the part of your brain you could fully operate in? Imagine the possibilities, the endless results to an endless world of corrections! Simply look for A Like-Minded Utopia under the Provoked Thoughts tab or Click Here.

Mr. Ringwalt, great prompt idea. I sure hope it's going strong two years later!

Short Story Alert!

Hello there! Ever wondered what my writing might actually entail? Maybe you're curious how fluffy or how sparse I tend to lean when delving into dire situations. Either way, I've got a new short story for you!

Click here if you're at all interested in a quick read.

The title's a little hasty (not necessarily my strongest suit in the written world), but you're looking for Shadows Cast by Stars, a spiffy example of how starlight can really challenge the doubtful nature of an unforgiving darkness. What does Anna do when she goes to meet Sawyer for their monthly date with the stars, only to find his stuff and an ominous text message warning her to leave, to hunt down some helping hands? Psht, I'm not telling you. Go read, find out for yourselves!

Sonnet 39 - Sir Philip Sidney

39

"Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
   With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
    Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head:
And if these things, as being thine by right,
    Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me
    Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see."

                                                --Sir Philip Sidney

There's something about this sonnet by Sidney that's really appealing to me. It could be the theme of sleep as the place to escape from the realities of the world. It could be the fact that Sidney's speaker, Astrophil, so unconventionally expresses his sorrows for his courtly love, Stella, without the use of overdone paradoxes, outdated Petrarchan devices. There's just something there, something real in Sidney's desperate hope for peace, for a safe haven in sleep that simply won't let the reader be unless they feel that desperation and they feel that yearning for an unscathed slumber.

Then again, sleep's always fascinated me to begin with, especially the possibilities of what goes on when we're dead to the world for a good eight hours or so.

I'm Megan Butler, an English major at the University of Alabama who's aspiring to create the greatest story imaginable for your reading pleasure if you like a) young adult fiction b) well, sleep and dreams and the like and c) READING. We all have stories spinning around in our minds somewhere, it just takes a journey to reach those stories and revive them for others to see. With the ultimate destination involving publication, a daunting journey indeed, this blog is meant for you to experience that journey with me and to feel what I feel, to learn what I learn as I wake my story up from its protective sleep and shove it out of its comfort zone, into the real world.

Thanks for reading!