author – Page 4 – Jake W. Powell

Dinner with History’s Nameless

If you could host a dinner and anyone you invite was sure to come, who would you invite?

If I could invite anyone … I wouldn’t let a thing like time get in the way.

I would invite people long dead to learn their stories and the shape of history. Not famous people or those mentioned in the history books. The nameless, the common people, those whose names never made it into a textbook.

A laborer who worked on the Great Pyramid of Giza. I would ask him how the pyramids were built, and what it was like to build one of them. I would ask what life was like for the common man in the ancient times of Egypt.
A Viking from the 10th century. What were the raids like? What was your culture like? How do you see yourself, and how do you want others to see you?
A peasant from 15th century Japan. What was it like to live during the Warring States period? I would ask him about daily life in Japan and how peasants related to samurai and other higher-ranking castes.
Nez Perce, Comanche, Pueblo, Inuit, and Mohawk tribal members from before the first Europeans arrived in North America. I would ask them what their cultures were like, how they got on with their neighbors, and what North America was like before written history.
One of Thomas Edison’s employees. Not the man himself, but someone who worked under him. What was it like? What was he like? And how did you contribute to his company?
One of the first theater-goers to see Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in 1937. I would want to know what the first audience’s impressions of the film was. And I would want to know what they thought Disney would do next.
One of Microsoft’s first ever employees. I would love to know what his or her vision for the company was, what working under Bill Gates was like, and what it was like to build the first home computers.

And that would just be my first dinner party …

***

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.

“Hermes is not having the best time. He walks a fine line, and his duty as messenger of Olympus weighs heavily on him. Being a god in the modern age means living in a world that no longer believes in gods. How much can one deity accomplish when no one respects him anymore? And why do his instincts tell him that he, the son of Zeus, is losing favor with his own family?

Tensions abound. The upstart Young Gods play dangerous games using entire cities as their boards. Formless monsters strike from the nighttime shadows, terrorizing hapless mortals. Agents of rival pantheons scheme to thwart Olympus’ designs. In the thick of it all, Hermes does what he does best: trick, lie, and cheat his way to victory.“

A Reflection on Eclectic Interests

What are you an authority on?

Truth be told, I’ve never considered myself an authority on anything. Oh, sure, I write a blog and share my thoughts and insights on life, writing, and sundry subjects, but I don’t consider myself an expert on any of them. I certainly wouldn’t call myself an authority on writing, and I probably never will. I’m just sharing my experiences, for better or for worse.

To achieve mastery in an artistic pursuit is something I pursue, but it is not a goal I expect to ever achieve. I don’t think it is obtainable. The journey and the gradual improvement of skill over time is what makes such a thing worthwhile.

I’m just a guy with things to say who started a blog. Thanks for reading it, by the way!

That being said, there are things I know about more than others. You know, the kinds of intellectual scree that are useful for a game of Trivial Pursuit, to rekindle the embers of a dying conversation, or perhaps to insert into a livestream chat. I have an unhealthy knowledge of pop culture, for example, particularly video games and tabletop gaming.

I also have an interest in animation history. I have a keen interest in modern Japanese history – enough that I took a master’s degree in Japanese Studies. Actually, reading what I just wrote, I can conclude that I like history in general. The hard sciences scare me, but I’m always up for a discussion about the liberal arts. Go figure.

Jack of all trades, master of none? Yes, yes, I am.

What about you? Are there any subjects you consider yourself an authority on or have a wide range of knowledge about?

***

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 Makes a Teacher Great

The best teachers have no interest in being loved. Does that surprise you? Do you think that a teacher should want to be liked by his pupils? But that is not a teacher’s duty. Teachers teach. Easy lessons, hard lessons, the things that make a student stretch out beyond his comfort zone to grasp. A teacher pushes. Students do not always like being pushed.

Teachers are willing to endure ill-favor if it means the ones they teach are able to grow. Whether the elementary teacher who hushes whispered chatter and silences cell phones, the music instructor who demands the apprentice practice hours a night without fail, or the drill sergeant who shouts in cadets’ faces to strengthen their nerves, the best teachers do not mistake pleasantness for effectiveness.

Pleasant feelings are fleeting. Lessons well-learned are forever. A teacher who truly cares is one who places little value on popularity, and everything on the education of their students. Teachers lay a foundation in the minds of the taught. They ensure that deep roots are sunk, and that knowledge and experience grow ever higher. They nurture the student’s mind, and they test it. They see far beyond today’s temporary comforts. They see their student as they could be in ten, twenty, thirty years’ time.

What makes a teacher great? The desire and ability to make others great.

***

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.

The Memories of Childhood

I remember the smell of freshly baked peanut butter cookies in the kitchen wafting like a warm summer breeze. I remember how they crumbled in my hand as I ate them, little bits of delicious debris, and how there were always enough to last a week or more. I plucked them out of the Tupperware container one by one, day by day, a child’s guilty pleasure.

I remember the sound of my father mowing the lawn, a sawing roar yet somehow comforting. I remember the pungent odor of freshly cut grass coming through my open window, and I remember him manhandling the lawnmower up the steep hill in our backyard.

I remember walking through the forest park, the pine needles blanketing the ground like slivers of gold. I remember the tall trees that shaded me, and the baseball diamond at the park’s edge, where my parents and I used to buy hot dogs before returning home.

I remember the day after I had my wisdom teeth removed. My mind was a drowsy blur from anesthetics. I remember how my numb jaw felt like a lump of dead meat that didn’t hurt even when I pinched hard. I held a bag of frozen peas against it when the feeling and the pain started coming back.

I remember when I first became a writer. My parents owned a word processor, and I used it to write stories about my action figures. I printed them out and hung them on my wall, so proud of my work. I started my first novel, and never got past the fifth page. I remember getting my first computer, a great, gray blocky thing, and using it to write new stories. A child’s fancies that watered a ripe imagination.

I remember much, much more. More than could ever be committed to blog or paper. My childhood is over. The memories endure.

***

Writers Need Their Comfy Chairs

What is the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?

My chairs.

Writing requires a good and comfy chair to sit in. If you’re going to be at it for hours at a time typing away on your computer, you need to be sitting on something that won’t give you an aching back or sore bottom. Something that you don’t even notice you’re sitting in.

Likewise if you’re relaxing while watching TV, or even just taking a nap.

I really like my chairs. I have a desk chair and a lounge chair, the latter of which is by far the older. I don’t quite remember when I first got it, but it was a gift, and one that is still appreciated. True, it’s not that terribly old in the grand scheme of things, maybe only a decade or a little less, but we all sit down on a daily basis, don’t we? And it has served me well when I need to rest my eyelids.

My desk chair, meanwhile, is what I use when writing. A little worn, a little nicked and scratched, but always reliable. Better than laying on my knees at the desk, eh? And always there for me, like a good chair should be.

Well, maybe they are both showing their age with the wear and tear, and maybe they are getting what one might call “tatty,” but there’s a certain charm, a certain curious attachment that one grows for ragged things. Familiarity is a powerful thing.

They’re still comfortable.

***

Have You Thought About Your Toothbrush Today?

Let us consider the toothbrush.

No one does until one needs a toothbrush. Then one calls out for salvation from cavities and bad breath. The toothbrush is an unsung hero. No one goes through the day anticipating that most exciting and thrilling of activities – oh, yes, isn’t it just! – that is brushing their teeth.

Some things are so ordinary, so utterly normal, that they slip beneath notice. But we must be thankful for the toothbrush. Without it, we would all dwell in a mire of poor hygiene. Only when we don’t have something do we understand how important it is.

Toothbrushes, floss, old slippers, fluffy carpets, dishcloths – mundane, lowly, easily forgotten, yet so, so precious in their own odd ways.

***

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.

When I Retire …

How do you want to retire?

It’s never too early to plan for retirement, is it? Well, it’s never a bad idea to think ahead, at least.

How do I want to retire? Alive would be a good start. Wait, that’s kind of morbid. Let me start over ….

When I retire, I want to be healthy, active and with the ability to continue sallying forth to enjoy life. I really look forward to being able to travel more. And to do that, I need to be in good shape physically and psychologically. I also need to have money, of course, but that’s what saving up for retirement is all about.

But I don’t just want to engage in fun activities. I want to have fun with other people. What’s the point of retiring if you’re going to be alone, anyway? Friends and family get old with you, right? So why not enjoy a life without workdays together?

Retirement is something that I do look forward to, and I want to be ready for it. I want to be the sort of person who can get the most out of a life where weekends are a strange, distant, obsolete concept.

***

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.

Dealing with Writer’s Burnout

Writing is exciting. It is also exhausting. Crafting a story is an intense and intellectual endeavor that requires concentration, creativity, time, energy and the ability to make hard decisions. Small wonder that artists are called tortured souls. Creating anything means removing pieces of yourself and putting them into your work.

It is enjoyable, though. I don’t write because I have to, but because I want to. I also sometimes want to tear it all down and forget any of it ever happened.

No, this isn’t holding two contradictory thoughts at once. It isn’t doublethink. It’s the reality of dealing with burnout. Working hard on something, anything, that you enjoy will still lead to periods of tiredness, discouragement and an unwillingness to continue. It’s natural, I think. At least, that’s the impression I get.

I am working on my third book, and I was initially surprised that it is much harder to write than the first two. But there’s a reason for this. I’ve been writing about the same characters and setting for a while. Variety helps. After book #3 about the adventures of Hermes, I’ll get away from this series for a while, work on something fresh and different, give my brain a chance to stretch.

Feeling like you can’t put a word to a page isn’t something to dread. Whether it’s burnout, writer’s block, or just exhaustion after a busy day, it happens to all writers. Be kind to yourself. Don’t push yourself to finish if it’s going to result in a sloppy product. And certainly don’t push yourself at the expense of your own health.

Sometimes, we just need to get away from the story for a bit and let the ideas churn in our subconscious. It will still be there when we come back.

***

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.

Literature Adds to Reality …

Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.

C . S. Lewis

***

Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I sometimes post cool quotes by writers.

Thoughts on The Giving Tree

Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

I can’t say it was my favorite book as a child – I have too many of those to choose just one – but I remember The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein with fondness. A sweet story of self-sacrifice, though as an adult I realize that it is controversial. But most stories are, especially when we pry them open, dissect them, and boil them down.

Maybe I’m just a sentimentalist who likes stories that are bittersweet. Maybe I’m naive. Or maybe I never perceived the concept that the boy was exploiting the tree because I grew up in a family where I was taught to say “please” and “thank you” and learned about responsibility. Maybe a story’s interpretation depends on the context of the reader’s life and experiences. We all see something different.

Either way, I liked the story. I was young and innocent and hadn’t received a college education yet, so I saw only good in it.

***

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.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: