What?? Already???

This semester, I have begun to start the requisite courses for my major. I am, as I have said before, going into Elementary Education with an emphasis in English. For this emphasis, I decided I might as well take a couple of creative writing workshops, the first being this semester. We are beginning the fiction section of the class, and I must say that I haven't ever had to come up with so many different topics. Despite the constant creativity, I am loving the class, and I have actually come up with the characters and plot line in my next story. This is the one that is going to be about the Holocaust. Here is the main character's "bare bones" so to speak.

Character's Bare Bones

Name: Edwin Christian Terry

Age: 39-41 throughout the course of the story

Occupation: A wife, Mathilde Annabella Rosseau, 37; 3 sons: James William, 11, Peter Alexander, 9, Vincent Kimball, 8; one daughter, Evelyn Annabelle (All of the names' meanings describe the characters they are ascribed to)

Setting: France under the Vichy regime. Edwin, who feared Folkestone (his native city) being bombed more severely than it had in World War I, moved his family to a house not far out of Montoire-sur-le-loir (Mathilde's home) in France. This turns out to be a mistake, as Montoire turns out to be part of the German-controlled puppet territory of France. The setting also takes place somewhat in the past; parts of it will be Edwin's memory since the last book.

Plot: *****Classified************ (If you are dying to know, which I doubt many are, I have a hard copy I can give you; I don't trust the internet, and I don't want my idea stolen)

The ironic thing is, though, I haven't finished Victims of Reality. I have been working on it a little here and a little there, but nowhere near hard enough for me to have it done already. I will finish this story before I begin work on my next novel, and I hope that people enjoy the book as much as I have writing. It may seem weird, but I have actually gotten to know the characters as if they were my own children. Orson Scott Card, one of my favorite authors, described characters as living, breathing people. I have come to understand what he meant throughout writing Victims. I also thought this quote was good: "Listen to your characters; they know what they're talking about!" - Judith A. Lansdowne. (Kim, I found this on your friends blog and thought it was brilliant!). Everything has come together because I have gotten to know my characters like that.

As to the title of this blog, I'm asking myself the same question.

Something's Changed....

More and more, I find that I have been beginning to use this blog more as a journal, one for my story and my life alike.  It's strange.  Although I like my journal and write in it occasionally, I find that it is easier to portray what I am thinking through writing.  Since I prefer people to not read my journal, this is an excellent alternative.  It provides me with a great way to tell everyone news at once, instead of sending a message out to each individual I know.  I am sure others have used this as a similar avenue for expression.

Lately, I have been thinking about my story more.   Unfortunately, I have come to a conclusion that makes me, as the author, a bit melancholy.  I have decided that another character has to die in my story.  It is upsetting for me, though I know it is only a story.  People simply say, "Then just don't do it."  I find that ridiculously impossible.  There is no leeway for my story to take a step backward.  The way it is going right now is the way it has to go.  There is no other alternative for my book.  Hopefully, this sacrifice on my part will lead to a more memorable experience for the reader.  That is my aim.

I plan on (if Victims of Reality is successful) providing a sequel to it, detailing the same family, but during the Holocaust.  I haven't totally decided the fundamental story line, but I do know that it will include some people from Victims, though I won't say who at the moment.  It might give away the ending of the story I am working on now.  Needless to say, I believe it will be another sad story.  However, sometimes we need to look through the lenses of people who were there and who suffered during these recent, monumental events in human history.  Otherwise, we may not actually know how they felt, know what they went through, know what they thought.  History by itself is interesting to learn about, but  unless we view it through a more personal perspective, I believe we gain nothing out of it.  This is what I venture to do with my writing.  I want to help a future generation become more intimate with the history that came before them.

This leads me to another topic.  I recently finished a story about the Holocaust.  It is called The Boy in the Striped Pajamas/Pyjamas.  Some of you might recognize it as a movie that was recently produced by BBC.  It is a moving book, to be sure, and I wonder how I would have acted to it, had I not had a previous background knowledge of what happened in the book.  For those of you who would like to read it, it is available on Amazon.com for quite a low price (Amazon has become my new shopping center).  Another book that I vehemently advocate is Bridge to Terabithia.  If you have seen the movie, I believe, then, that you have received the best treat that this title has to offer.  The recent re-making of the movie is probably the best version of the story, but it might be nice to know the origins of it.

I have also begun to help my neighbor in her fourth grade classroom and my friend in her first grade classroom.  This is to achieve some volunteer hours and experience and to gain some credit for my Education classes, as I have decided to return to Elementary Education as a major.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned this already.   I am thoroughly enjoying the volunteer work, as it provides me some experience for my future profession, and it is also rather fun.  

By the way, as my dad might have already said, my sister si on her mission now.  If anyone is looking to send her a letter, e-mail or otherwise, here is the necessary information.  Sorry if it is a repeat:

Sister Cami Lemmon

MTC Mailbox 105

PHI-TAC 0316

2500 N 900 E

Provo, UT 84604

or

camishell@myldsmail.net

Victims of Reality

At the beginning of this post, I wish to establish that this post has nothing to do with the recent election results.  I am not going to warn of the future misdeeds of our President-elect.  I think highly of Obama, even though his ideals may clash with a couple of my own.  No, this post is about something much different.  I aim to speak on my own creation, called Victims of Reality.  That is the title of my piece of historical fiction I am working and have been working on for approximately 10 months now.  I am not going to brag about myself, as I hate it when others do so, but I do wish to cry to the firmament: I finally have procured an image of Jimmy.

Who is Jimmy, you may be asking.  Frequent visitors to my blog, and everyone I am in close association with will know who he is.  He is the main protagonist to my story.  He travels on the Titanic with his family.  However, Jimmy's family is not what you would consider a conventional nuclear family.  He lives with his uncle and aunt, as you might have gathered from my previous post.  He has one brother, Edwin, who, in my opinion, is the cutest incarnation of a four-year-old that I could have imagined (Courtney, Brooklyn is 3, she won't fit in this category for another year; she'll probably be the cutest 4-year-old then).  Edwin is very friendly for his age, and is practically adored by everyone he comes into contact with.  Jimmy also has one cousin.  Her name is Constance, and if you end up reading at least the draft of my finished book, you will see why her name is Constance.  Anyway, I am going off on a tangent.

As I have previously said, I have been working on this novel for months now, with the only break being two months during the summer.  All this time, I had a rough idea of what Jimmy would look like.  I could never really picture him in my head.  Perhaps he would look like me, I had thought at one time.  However, I quickly dismissed that image because I deplore using myself as a model.  It was finally getting down to the wire.  I had to know what Jimmy would look like, or it would eventually drive me crazy.  As I surfed the net, I could not find a single picture that reminded me of my opus.  I finally had to write down the physical characteristics of Jimmy and try to bring him into being using my mediocre art skills.  It took me a few tries.  The first few drove me insane!  "This is not what Jimmy would look like," I cried.  Finally, after months of pondering and days of searching, I finally have a picture of what Jimmy looks like.  

As a side note, Edwin was a lot easier to imagine.  I used my five-year-old cousin Ammon as a model, after the approval of his mother.  Thanks, Lori!  I can show you what Jimmy looks like, but I would rather not breach the trust between my aunt Lori and I.  I don't have his body shaped, but that's because I already knew his other physical proportions.  

I've been tagged

My sister tagged me, and I decided to acquiesce to her request.  I hope you'll bear with me:

WEIRD FACT: I used to have a wart on the side of my right hand, but it mysteriously disappeared.  Hunh!  Go figure.

RANDOM FACT: I love my job at the Copy Center in the Eli M. Oboler Library.  I have worked there longer than I have ever worked at a job before, and it's only been a year since I started.  If you start working there, you'll soon find out that the staff at the Copy Center is like a large dysfunctional family.  It's quite strange, but I love it!!

WEIRD FACT: I think the eternal question is "Why?"  No matter what somebody says in response, you can always ask "Why?"  Try it sometime, if you get the chance.  It's really great fun.

RANDOM FACT: I have been in the following countries:  the Bahamas, the United States, and Canada.  Within the United States, I have been in Idaho (of course), Utah, Wyoming, South Dakota, New Jersey, Virginia, New York, Pennsylvania, Florida, Texas, and Minnesota.  I think there are more places that I have been to, but I can't think of them right now.

WEIRD FACT: I can pop my neck multiple times at once.  I can also pop my back, all my fingers (in two places), all my toes, my knees, and my ankles.  I'm working on popping my nose (just kidding).

RANDOM FACT: In the story I'm writing, Jimmy's full name is James Wallace Terry; Edwin's full name is Edwin Christian Terry; Constance's name is Constance Meredith Terry; Aunt Meredith's full name is Meredith Anne Bishop Terry; Uncle Will's full name is William Jeremiah Terry, and Miss O'Riley's full name is Cassandra Josephine O'Riley.  Jimmy's middle name is his father's name, and Edwin has his mother's maiden name as  a middle name.

WEIRD FACT: I will occasionally look out the window with my cat when she watches the world.  The neighbors probably all think that I'm spying on them by now.  My cat also sleeps by me when I'm browsing the internet, working on homework, or writing my story.

RANDOM FACT: My family is not related to some of the Lemmons in town.  Our surname is actually supposed to be Terry, but along the line, our name was changed to Lemmon because of some issues with the end of polygamy.  If I have my facts correct, a few generations ago, one of the males with the surname of Terry did not give up polygamy when it was commanded of him.  As such, one of the ladies he was married to divorced him and switched her name to Lemmon.  Interesting, isn't it?

WEIRD FACT: I have been all over the United States, but the furthest west I have been is Boise, Idaho.

RANDOM FACT: I just got my driver's license this week.  I took Driver's Ed as a 15-year-old, but circumstances have prevented me from getting my license till now.  I'm 19!  

Our Changing World

Fall.  It's the time of year where our world changes the most.  Leaves change color and snow is oftentimes spread amongst the local landscape.  It metamorphoses into the (typically) white blanket of winter.  It is beautiful, and so is the world we live in.  During fall, however, we are left to adapt to the cold by ourselves.  We build up buffers to keep us warm against the elements.  If it becomes extremely cold, it ruins the great season of fall.  We concentrate on the cold, and fail to realize the reds, yellows, and oranges of the truly beautiful season of fall.

Mankind can be like that sometimes.  Let me tell you where I am coming from.  People trust me with their children.  Children take to me for the most part, and more than once, a child has told me that they love me.  It makes me feel great, but I refuse to think of it negatively, instead in more of a platonic light.  It makes me think, I can't tell them the same thing, no matter how much they would like me to.  The actions of a few people have ruined it for those of us who truly want to make children's lives better.  I am going into Child Protection as a profession, and there is a chance that I might run into the same phrase more than once.  I can't say anything to comfort those who need to be comforted, who have lost their families or who have been betrayed by them.  I cannot give them that comfort because of the evolving cultural taboo.  50 or so years ago, such a phrase might have been reciprocated, but, like the cold distracting from the beauty of fall, certain offenders have distracted from the innocence of a child's love for those who take care of them.  It makes me physically sick with anger at those who might do these things to the most innocent of us.

I am thinking of this because of something my cousin's son said to me.  I helped watch them when he visited last Sunday, and one of his sons took to me rather quickly.  While we watched General Conference, he chose his perch as my lap, laying against my chest, with no asking from me.  His father looked on with a smile when he saw it.  I pray that the father knows that I would not want to be anything more than what he was to me: a mentor.  He knew what I liked as a child, and he always aimed to please me and advocate my interests.  I digress, though.  As his child (eventually two of his children) accompanied me in watching conference, he would occasionally give me a hug, and I would gently reciprocate, societal inhibitions working against me.  However, he said more than twice that he loved me.  Granted, he is four years old and I guess doesn't know the impact of how the word is interpreted.  He told me twice, but I could not tell him the same thing, if anything to comfort him, because of those people in our society that are like the intense cold in the fall; they ruin a beautiful thing : the innocence of a child's love and the innocence of the word love.

Love is defined as an intense feeling of deep affection, like a parental love or love for a country.  It should not be misinterpreted as lust, which is defined as a very strong desire of a certain category.  The people who are the cold in the fall have thinned the veil between these words, ruining it for those of us who actually have the interests of children at heart.  I'm not saying that I love children, but I try to look after them, to make sure they enjoy the best time of life.  In regards to having the best interests of children at heart, I fully attest to it.  I want nothing more.  I'm not the only talking about myself, but others that I know who can't be too kind because it is misconstrued as wrong, just as fall can be thought of as simply a cold time of year.

Editor's Note:  I, as the author of this blog, have reviewed this post with two people who know me the best: my parents.  I would not have posted this if I thought I was stepping on anyones toes.  No offense was intended, if it was taken.  As a token of relief, my greatest ambition is not to become an author or social worker, but a father.

Putting Life into Perspective

During the weekend, something unexpected happened.  A local radio DJ, Wayne Richards, passed away as a result of a snorkeling accident.  Normally, I don't pay attention to the lives of radio DJs, but this specific one had more of an impact on my life than most.  When I worked as a newspaper deliverer with my brother, we would have the radio on to that channel  every morning, listening to the soft rock provided on that channel.  It wasn't much of a choice, as my mother, who took us to each house, had complete control over the radio.  However, instead of becoming dissociated with the two DJs, I found myself listening to them more intently, enjoying the little quips they threw into their morning routine.  As a result, I was more shocked than normal when I heard the news.  I confess that I wasn't quite as shocked as my mother, who has listened to Wayne and Liza religiously since late 2005.  For her, it seemed as though she was losing a friend that she had talked to, or at least listened to, for nearly three years.  I admit, though, it won't be the same listening to Classy 97.  Wayne has been the voice for the station for quite a while, and the radio station won't be the same.  Maybe I should change the station I wake up to.

 

Although the passing of anyone is sad, I believe that there is something that people can rejoice in.  I believe that instead of mourning someone's death, we should celebrate their lives.  We should look at the good times we had, even if that person is someone we have never met, but who has become sort of an inspiration.  We should remind ourselves continually that we will see them again.  It may not be within a few months, nor a few years, but eventually, we will meet with our loved ones again.  I'm not saying that dealing with someone's death shouldn't be hard, but instead of treating it as a final goodbye, we should treat it as if someone is going away on business, or perhaps on vacation.  Again, instead of mourning, we should celebrate.  That person has taken another step on Heavenly Father's plan for us all.  We will be able to be with them forever, if we wish to do so.

 

So, if you feel yourself wishing to see your loved one's face again, simply close your eyes, imagine with a fierce intensity, and it will be as though that loved one is back with you.  They are there to offer a comforting hand, telling you they will wait for you.  They will always be there to comfort you, if only you choose to remember them.

Twilight to a Magnificent Summer

Two weeks. Two weeks and I will be up to my nose in notes and exams. While I cannot honestly say I'm looking forward to it, I don't dread it either. It's simply another step into becoming a full-fledged adult. At the current moment, I'm in a sort of limbo. I am old enough to live on my own, but I still wish to stay with my parents (despite the disagreements we might have). I don't think I'm prepared enough to do so. I don't need that kind of stress in my life at the moment, especially because of recent circumstances at work. Besides, I don't think my parents are tired of me quite yet.

I don't know how this has happened, but time seems to be going quicker than it has in the past. Perhaps it's a lack of longing in anticipation. I have reached (and passed) almost every milestone that I longed for as a child. Without these, I now only have my college graduation and starting a family to look forward to (the mission called off because of medical reasons). While I want to graduate from college, I still am worried about the amount of work it will take to get me in that position. Will I be able to do it? I hope so, if only by sheer will and Existentialistic powers. I must have faith.

As I look ahead, though, I also think about this summer. Overall it has been a great summer. A marriage, a child, and family have made this a summer that should go down in the books. My cousin has gotten married this summer, and I wish him well. It also hallmarked a rare occasion - one where I was able to see family that I am not privy to seeing very often. It also jump-started familial relationships from a dormant state. I grew closer to my uncle's family, who have been all over the west as of late. My uncle, who was around my age when I was born, ensured ties with my family by being a mentor to my siblings and I. While I'm not quite sure what he thinks of me now, I do know this: I wish to reciprocate the example he was to me while I am around him and his family. I am glad to say that I think his children are finally comfortable around me, although I'm not sure it was all my doing.

One of my friends has recently had a baby as well. He was born on July 16, and they named him Blake. He has a wonderful mother, and I hope they both live to a ripe old age. I hope that I can always be there for that new family.

I doubt that I will ever have as eventful of a summer as I have. I can think of only one thing that might surpass it: if I myself got married. Now that is a scary thought.