Ah, the old night/day dichotomy. Do you come alive at night, or do you start the day peppy and excited?
I admit that I get more done early in the day, and I relax more at night. But the cold hard truth is, I’m neither. That’s right, I’m taking a third option. I’m a midday person.
What does that mean? It means I feel most energetic and focused in the smack-dab middle of the day, between about 10AM and 4PM. That’s when I feel really alive and able to tackle any challenge. It’s when I most enjoy writing, when I have the opportunity.
Alas, I usually don’t. Midday is, after all, when I’m in the middle of work and not able to pursue leisure. Sitting in an office chair when you’re bristling with energy and ideas for a new story are rushing through your head isn’t exactly the most pleasant sensation.
But such is life.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I would live in a comfortable cabin in the middle of a sparse but lush forest with no neighbors within shouting distance and located exactly one hour away from the nearest town. I would also have electricity and a hot tub.
Those who read my musings on my city of the future may be aware that when a daily prompt asks me what I want, I go whole hog with exactly what I want. Will I ever get it? Probably not, but my imagination doesn’t have to agree with reality. I want a cozy cabin, I want peace and quiet, and I want to huddle up on my couch and watch my big-screen TV while the birds chirp outside. And when I need to go shopping, I want the store to be an hour’s drive away.
Fantasizing about an idyllic, Arcadian existence is all fun and dandy, but actually living it is a different case entirely. Loafing around on a tropical island is fine until you need to take a shower and have no soap and shampoo. Or towels and washcloths. Or plumbing. Not to mention the bugs and the heat and the storms. Yes, I admit it, I like modern amenities as much as I like nature. So, I would live close to nature, but not too close, thank you very much.
Civilization strove for millennia to invent the modern conveniences we currently enjoy, and some of them were invented for very good reason. Who am I to throw aside all that hard work?
Okay, maybe I could go without the hot tub …
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Do you remember literature classes in high school? How you would spend hours every day discussing the symbolic value of the billboard in The Great Gatsby and analyzing what each character represented in The Lord of the Flies? A spade is never just a spade in lit class. There is always a deeper meaning.
So can anyone explain to me why all the books students have to read are so dang depressing?
Looking back, this is what I feel that we were doing: Taking a beautiful flower and plucking its petals and cutting the stem and digging up the roots to see why it was a beautiful flower. And we very scientifically removed everything beautiful about it.
But darn it, we got educated about great literature. We knew what metaphor was. And allegory. And the subtle social critiques and genre deconstructions that mark all literary classics. We obtained knowledge! We justified our tuition!
There are people who make their living by reading stories and telling other people whether they are good or not. And their word is law, because there is no such thing as an opinion they understand the rules that govern quality writing. Where they obtain this arcane knowledge is unknown. Presumably, they dissected enough flowers.
Good stories seem to be a case of majority rules. If enough people say it’s good, it must be good. Maybe. But I didn’t like The Great Gatsby, so does that mean it’s not a good book or I’m not a good writer? Or perhaps if I had read it on my own time instead of being forced to analyze that darn stupid billboard I would have liked it.
What does it matter what color the curtains are or what suit the one character is wearing in each scene? It matters because somebody important says it matters, but what if it’s not the author saying it? Are we seeing what the writer put there, or what we think is there? Are we seeing meaning where there is none, or is the meaning not what we think it means? Does it mean what people say it means, or does it mean something else, which means that what I want it to mean means that it means the wrong thing from what everyone else thinks it means? Because that’s just mean.
Or maybe we’re just really good at gaslighting ourselves into thinking a book somebody wrote to pay their bills is a magnum opus. The writer wings it, hears what critics say, nods sagely and says, “Yes, that’s exactly what it means.”
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Probably not screaming when you don’t get dessert and walking into the house with mud covering your shoes.
“Kid at heart” is one of those curious expressions we use and don’t give much thought to. There’s a general consensus that everyone knows what it means, but do we really know what it actually means? Kids are selfish, loud, noisy, sometimes smelly, and generally very expensive. They are also seen as innocent, full of potential, and the future of civilization. Which may or may not be true (especially that part about innocence).
So, what does it mean to be a “kid at heart?” Perhaps it simply means to not let go of youthful vigor and enthusiasm. To not be jaded, as kids so rarely are, and to see the world as something fresh and new every day, as kids so often do. Kids are as flawed as adults, so I don’t think we should see childhood as a perfect little utopia long lost, but rather as a time when we were willing to have a little more joy in our lives and a little more willingness to learn.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
In honor of of one of the greatest writers of our, and any time, here are some choice quotes from the works of Charles Dickens. Some advice, some funny observations, maybe even a little wisdom.
The most important thing in life is to stop saying, ‘I wish’ and start saying, ‘I will’. Consider nothing impossible, then treat possibilities as probabilities.”
David Copperfield
“There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.”
Oliver Twist
“Trifles make the sum of life.”
Great Expectations
“There are very few moments in a man’s existence when he experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.”
The Pickwick Papers
“Love, though said to be afflicted with blindness, is a vigilant watchman.”
Our Mutual Friend
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
I’m not much of a big risk-taker in general, but then again, everyone’s definition of “risk” varies. What’s mundane for you can be nerve-rattling for me, and vice versa.
A friend of mine runs a podcast and has invited me to join it one day. For me, that’s a risk, not because I really stand to lose anything, but because I’m the nervous sort. Podcasts aren’t the same as public speaking, but they are public, and I’m neither the most photogenic nor the most outgoing person. The risk, then, would be the risk of me making a fool of myself across the Internet, or the corner of it that listens to my friend’s podcast, anyway.
There’s a lot of fear, there, but that’s what makes it a risk, right? And maybe someday I’ll muster up the courage to take him up on his offer.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
A life without music would be dull, that’s easy enough to say. But for me, it would also be a great deal more difficult to write anything noteworthy.
It is my belief that music is the purest expression of emotions and feelings available to humankind, just as written words are the purest expression of structured ideas. How do we describe good music? Moving, exciting, stirring, heartbreaking, uplifting, thrilling, contemplative. Music makes us feel. Words can, too, of course, but where a written story might give us a good shove now and then, music slaps us in the face – in a good way. Take any scene from a movie or stage play and remove the music. What do you have left? A bunch of people yelling and prancing around, usually. But add the music, and your heart beats to a gallop, or sinks in defeat or halts in anticipation. You no longer see something silly, but an experience of deep sincerity.
So what does this have to do with my writing? Simple. I listen to music for inspiration. Lots of people do, and I’m one of them. If you’re a writer and haven’t tried music as a way to come up with new ideas and work through the details of current ones, then I highly recommend it. Music stirs up emotions into a bubbling well, and from that well I draw my inspiration to fuel my projects.
I suppose that music and words go hand in hand. Two different forms of passion that perfectly compliment each other.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
If you’re a cat person, then sorry, I really don’t know what to tell you.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Well, for starters, I’d figure out what the heck is meant by “city of the future.”
I mean, hypothetical, futuristic cities designed in the 1950s look a lot different from what we 2020ers think they should look like . A lot less art-deco and a lot more Apple aesthetic. Lots of white and curved corners. In fifty more years, the city of the future will probably be imagined as made of recyclable plastic or something.
But this is my city, right? I can do what I want. So, futuristic means pretty, practical, and maybe even a little sustainable.
First thing’s first, its streets are based on a grid system. I want a city that’s easy to navigate with no silly, loopy streets going every which way. If we live in the future, we should be able to make our own cities easy to drive in, a least. Also, wide streets. My city will acknowledge the existence of heavy traffic and anticipate it. Wide streets that can accommodate, oh, let’s say six lanes.
But I’m also going to offer incentives to not drive cars everywhere. Because we’re in the future, right? And cars are a thing of the past. Well, they might be. It’s the future, who knows what’s going to happen?
So, I’ll have elevated rail lines for the train and also lots and lots of rental stations with electric bikes. Just put in a quarter and ride your rental for an hour or so. Also, I’m bringing back trolleys. Trolleys are a great idea, and I’ll fight the gas companies to make my city’s public transportation system the best in the world.
Since my city is on a grid, I’m thinking it’ll be shaped like a big square or rectangle. In the center is where all the skyscrapers will be located; the major businesses and corporate headquarters will have their places in the center, and they aren’t going to be big blocks of glass. I want some curvature to these buildings, something a little softer on the eyes. No hard corners. Also, solar panels. I’ll coat the upper floors of these skyscrapers in solar panels. Fancy, futuristic solar panels that are transparent or something, so you can still see out the windows. Not possible? Well, guess what? It’s the future!
Ah, speaking of power, I’m also going to install revolutionary new generators under the city center sidewalks that convert the kinetic force of footsteps into electrical energy. That’s right, I’m going to design a city that generates power from people walking down the sidewalk. Impossible, you say? Need I remind you? Future!
The most vital part of my city design is trees. Lots and lots of trees. The streets will be lined with trees, and there will be dozens of parks. Big parks, little parks, flower gardens, all scattered throughout the city. The very center of the city, smack dab in the middle, will be the biggest park, with a lake, a sports field, a walking loop through the woods, and more. Trees are important. They provide fresh oxygen and help calm people who otherwise are trapped in an artificial world. My city of the future will have nature in it.
That’s about all I can think of. A nice, pretty city that’s livable. And preferably cheap to live in. It needs lots of incentives for businesses to come in and employ people, but I’m just the designer, not the economist, so I can’t answer that here. But I’m sure my revolutionary sidewalk power generators will cut down on costs somehow.
I took the time to describe my basic idea to AI and got this image spat out in response.
Not bad, actually. I was expecting worse from AI. The buildings aren’t quite what I wanted, but I like the distinct lack of traffic and lots of bicyclists. Also, trees. Yes, that many trees.
There you have it. My city of the future.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
I have … several … words that I believe have seeped into the social fabric as overused and overrated vocabulary. Words used so often they don’t have any meaning left except as placeholders or hollow props to push a point. But one word I, as a storyteller and writer, really, really, really, really tire of seeing used at the drop of a hat is this:
Genius.
I see it everywhere online.
“Look at that camera shot! Genius!”
“Did you read this cool one-liner in this comic book? It’s awesome! Genius!”
“Look at what she’s wearing! I love it! The designer is a genius!”
“This music pumps me up! It must be genius!”
No, it’s not. It’s not genius. It’s likeable and memorable and probably technically very skillful. But it’s not genius just because you personally like it.
If I’m coming on strong with this, it’s because I don’t like it when people’s vocabulary is reduced to a handful of expressions and words to communicate a vast and varied array of feelings and situations. It cheapens words. Wait, what am I saying? Words are expensive. They must be, because so many people can’t seem to afford to learn any more.
Genius is a word with a history. The ancient Romans believed the genius was a type of spirit. Genii watched over people and resided in objects and locations. They were entities that guided and assisted people. They were an abstract, animistic concept with concrete benefits.
Genius evolved to mean an individual possessing remarkable and unique creative or intellectual ability. Geniuses are singular in their talents. They are rare, and often leave a significant impact on the world beyond that of simple aesthetic or crowd pleasing. Their minds are quantifiably beyond that of others.
Note that I said “rare.” Geniuses, true geniuses, don’t sprout up like dandelions. And yet, somewhere down the road, society lost the plot. It loves to attach the word to anything. And, I suspect, not because one truly believes the person or the work has intellectual or creative worth, but because of personal gratification. Genius is whatever you want it to be. Genius has become relative.
Maybe it always was? Maybe. But were Einstein or Turing or Leonardo da Vinci merely relatively smarter than the average joe? Or were they actually making remarkable and unprecedented achievements in their fields through learned and innate skill that is extremely hard to match? There’s nothing relative about genius. It is either present, or it isn’t.
This is not to tread over the achievements of others. Not everyone is a genius, but there are many, many skilled people in the arts and sciences who have produced amazing things for people to enjoy and benefit from. They should not be put down. And geniuses work hard, too. It’s the hard-working ones that we know about. But for the love of apple pie, please stop throwing the word around like confetti! Let it hold some meaning.
On the other hand, linguistic drift is a thing. Tragically, “genius” may very well go the way of so many other words with rich histories and meanings and become just another toy in pop culture’s box.
But not for us bloggers, right? Right?
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Jake W. Powell 