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I realized last weekend that I’m afraid of the end of Battlestar Galactica. I’m resisting watching the last episodes because they bring that ending all that closer.
I’m afraid for two reasons. The first is that I’m afraid the ending will (to be blunt) suck. It’s really hard to pull a great ending off — I’ve never managed to do it — and the rest of the series has set the bar very high. The worst part is that a muffed ending will taint the rest of the series, and will make it harder to re-watch.
The other reason is the mirror image of the first. I’m afraid the ending will be powerful and perfect, leaving me with the longing to spend more time in BSG’s storyverse. I always cry at the end of Lord of the Rings — for years I thought I was sad that Frodo was leaving Middle-Earth, and then I realized I was crying because I was leaving. That’s what I think will happen when Battlestar finally ends: I’ll cry because I’m leaving.
Sure, I’ll be able to go back to that world — all it will take is popping one of the DVDs into the DVD player. But that won’t be the same as visiting my old friends and seeing what’s new with them.
Of the two possibilities, I prefer the latter — too many people have worked too long and too hard for this to fall apart at the end. My heart will break either way; I’d prefer it break over beauty than disappointment.
My friends and I have been talking lately about what we read and why, and out of that discussion I’ve had something I’ve vaguely known about myself as a reader brought into clarity.
I read to escape. I read to get away from my life and its stresses. I don’t read to be reminded that life is hard and unjust and sometimes good people lose and bad people win. Life does a fabulous job of reminding me of that all on its own.
A good book will take you out of yourself. If you’re reading genre fiction, you’re promised justice of one kind or another; if you’re reading non-fiction, you’re learning something. It’s like a mini-vacation, one that doesn’t involve packing or messing with the airlines.
Well, what do you know: yesterday’s hope, that recognizing the shape of my problem would help me find a solution for it, has been fulfilled. I spent the whole bus trip in this morning thinking about what I want, just listening to the little voice deep inside.
It turns out I want paper, specifically Moleskine’s pocket diary. It’s the size of an index card, and it’s Moleskine, whose paper I adore. As soon as this possibility presented itself to me, the part of my head that had been fretting over this screamed, “That one!” If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.
The tough part is getting one — there’s nowhere near my home or work that carries them. The nearest store is in Cambridge, a lengthy subway journey away. A journey, I might add, that I will be making tomorrow. And that’s the other sign: that I’m willing to make the journey without a lick of hesitation.
Tonight I am a happy woman.
Part of finding the right tool for the job is figuring out what the job actually entails. That’s been on my mind as I try to figure out what I’m going to do about managing my personal appointments if I’m not going to lug my planner around with me. (I measured it today: the binder is 7-1/4″ x 4-1/2″ x 2″, almost as big as a trade paperback. And it’s leather and metal, so it’s heavier.)
What do I need? What do I want? What’s the job, and what tool or tools will help me accomplish it? Every idea I’ve had has had something wrong with it, some element that eliminates it from consideration, or at least suggests a level of compromise I might not be willing to make. If I’m going to spend a good chunk of change, I want something much closer to perfect than anything I’ve been able to find. So now I need to dig deep and really figure out what I want.
I will trust my gut when I’m doing it. I hate spending money; a surprising streak of frugality has taken over my life. So when I’m willing to part with more than a couple of dollars*, it’s significant. I really wanted Writer’s Cafe; a small, relentless inner voice insisted on getting it. I’m glad I paid heed — since getting the full version of WC, things have started to loosen up inside. I think on some level I’m realizing I don’t have to keep the shape of the story in my head; I have a tool that does that for me.
What I need, more than anything, is for the instinct that said, “Get Writer’s Cafe,” to say. “Do this,” about my calendar problem. Maybe now that I’ve admitted that to myself, the solution will come. That’s how it works, more often than not. Or maybe I’ll just have a clearer idea of what I want.
One may hope.
* I’m agonizing over spending $7.99 on a book, a book, so you know I really hate spending money.
This morning, I went back and forth about bringing my Alphasmart with me on the bus. I had half a dozen books to bring back to the library, nearly filling my largest tote and more than enough to make my seat cramped if I was sharing the two-seat space with another rider. Since the odds were pretty good I’d have to share, I wouldn’t be able to use my Alphie on the ride in; I wouldn’t be able to use it at lunch because I was going to the library. Sure, I’d be able to use it at the end of the day for the 10-15 minutes between getting on the bus at my stop and arriving at the other stop, but was that enough to make it worthwhile, all that awkwardness in the morning.
I’m not entirely sure what made me decide it was worth it. I think it was as simple as “Better to have it and not want it, than want it and not have it.”
I’m very glad I made that call — I ended up having a seat all to myself, and I spent the whole ride in working. I hand-wrote about 300 words before bed last night; I entered those, then kept going, writing another 300.
I’m happy with everything I’ve written so far, and most of it is there for a purpose I understand. A character stepped on stage at the end of it that I want to use, but I’m not sure what to do with him in the context of the scene, or even in the whole story. Everyone named and defined has a job to do; I don’t know what his is yet. That’s okay — I have no question I’ll figure it out.
Okay, I’m over the netbook thing, mainly because it’s been shouldered aside by another source of frustration.
A few years ago, I downsized my daily planner and started carrying it in my purse. I was tired of maintaining two calendars, one for work and one for home; it just seemed silly to me, especially when there’s overlap.
The problem with this is that it means I need a purse big enough for the planner and my glases and my cell phone and my wallet and my pens and my…
Well, you get the idea.
I’m really tired of the winter. There have been a few nice-ish days lately that just make me long for spring. I just want to be able to wear my sneakers instead of my boots.
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I went to the gym today. Go me. I didn’t want to go — the whole way there, I kept thinking, “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this.” I realized, though, that I don’t actually have to feel any motivation whatsoever to work out. I just have to go do it.
So I did.
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I didn’t post anything yesterday because I was grinchy-cranky, and just did not want to whine about that again. It’s still a shock to me to realize that I’m moody, but days like yesterday remind me.
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Somehow, I’ve managed to get hooked on “NCIS”. It’s that pernicious USA TV, running marathons. I’ve decided to see if I can’t use the addiction to study story structure again.
A previous addiction helped me learn story structure: the original Law & Order when it ran on A&E, lo these many years ago. It’s the perfect TV show for getting down the basics, since the midpoint of the story couldn’t be any more obvious: It’s the point when the suspect is arrested and the story shifts to the prosecution side of things. Once you know that, it’s just a matter for looking for the other two turning points, one during the investigation and one during the trial.
You watch enough episodes, the shape works its way into your subconscious.
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Just some thoughts on a gloomy Sunday…
The bus is sitting at the last stop, waiting for its departure time, and I have all my stuff spread out, taking up two seats. Because there are still empty seats, I feel no compulsion to pack myself up. I can sit here with my darling Alphie at the perfect height on my lap, U2 playing on my iPod, and type away. I wish it could be like this every night.
I could spread out and refuse to pack up until the bus was stuffed to the gills, but I hate getting on the bus in the morning and finding seats barricaded like that, so there’s no way I’ll do it.
Hunh. I just realized that’s an example of being the change I want to see in the world.
But that’s not why I won’t do it. My real motivation is a passionate dislike of people who have one set of rules for themselves and another set for the rest of the world. I can’t abide people like that…and having written that, I’m now thinking I need to write a character like that. The empress, Kerlis’s grandmother, is a prime candidate, partly because there really is a different set of rules for her. My dislike of two-sets-of-rules people is irrational enough that on some level it doesn’t make a difference that the rules really are different; if she’s internalized them — and of course she has, how could she not? — she’ll annoy me. I’ll have to get over it; even though I won’t write from her POV, I’ll still need to be able to see the world through her eyes, and that’s not possible if irritation is distancing me. Writing her will be a challenge, but I think I’m up for it.
Lately I’ve been struggling with a mild, persistent longing for a netbook, a light little laptop about the size of my Alphasmart. I keep thinking how convenient it would be to have a small PC (basically) I could carry to and from work. Price is one of the things stopping me — they run around $300 and I can’t bring myself to spend the money, especially not after buying the Alphasmart only a couple of years ago. That felt like a huge investment at the time, and it feels wrong to discard it so soon after making the investment.
Last night, when I dragged the Alphie out and started typing, I was reminded of one thing I do love about the Alphasmart: its touch. There’s something pleasurable about typing on the keyboard, something that feels different than a computer or laptop keyboard. I also love the clacky-tappy noise it makes as I type.
I guess I’d forgotten how much I just plain love my Alphie. Its simplicity lets me/forces me to focus only on the words; I’m not distracted by anything. Its batteries last forever, and when they burn out, it’s just a matter of replacing them with AAs.
The other thing that’s keeping me from getting a netbook I don’t actually need is reality. As much as a little voice whispers that I could get so much done on the bus or on my lunch break if I had a netbook with Writer’s Cafe loaded on it, the truth is I wouldn’t be able to do anything — in the morning it’s unlikely I’ll have a seat to myself; at night I’m too brain-fried to do anything remotely intelligent and/or creative if I do end up sitting alone. As for lunch, it’s next to impossible to find a quiet corner conducive to concentration, which is what I need.
But, still, the voice whispers…
I brought my Alphasmart to work with me today so I could do a little writing on the bus. I’m absolutely guaranteed a seat to myself from my end-of-day stop to the next one, so it’s worth carrying my little friend with me. I can keep writing even when the bus is jolting and jouncing along Boston’s rough streets, something that’s not true with pen and paper.
Tonight, I’m drained from studying for an accreditation test — more memorization than I’ve done since Latin — so I’m not actually going to accomplish much in the ten minutes I have. But that’s okay. I don’t have to get great and powerful results from the get-go to know this was a good idea, or that it’s worth repeating. I might not have the mental energy to do much more than write this post, but when I do, I and my tools will be ready.
