Crafting a Trilogy: Origins

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In figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up, the journey took many twists and sharp turns. In addition to merely considering many different fields, I worked more jobs than anyone I know at my age. At the tender age of 34, I’ve crossed more occupations off the list as “attempted, not quite right” than other people will attempt in a lifetime. (And more power to them. I sincerely believe it’s possible to graduate high school, know exactly who you are and what you’re good at, and find success in that career for a lifetime. In my experience though, it’s not possible to do that and also be me.) I’ve been great at a lot of things, I’ve done a lot of introspection and reflection, but I’ve never felt sure-footed on my career journey until recently.

Other people seemed to know my path long before I did. It’s a consensus I’ve heard since I was literally 5 years old, back when I thought I’d grow up to be an Egyptologist, or an architect, or a dancer. Many people pointed to me and screamed “You’re a Writer!” I was chosen to write and speak for groups, chosen to receive writing awards, pointed at by veritable strangers who heard me talk for a few minutes and declared, “You should write a book.” Many teachers requested acknowledgment when the then-imaginary book was published. On any number of subjects, people indicated, “If you wrote the book, I’d read it.” The constancy of their collective belief made it impossible for me, rebel with 1,000 causes, to agree and declare “I am a writer. I will write a book.” It seemed ludicrous that I should admit that everyone else, strangers even, knew me better than I knew myself.

So I finally did it. I wrote a children’s book, a picture book, about starting something new, setting a goal, and working to achieve it. I turned a poem I’d written about crafting into a story about a girl with a dream. I hired an illustrator to see my vision through. I self-published and advertised. Instantly, I had big dreams for the book and for the universe it insinuates. I created a brand, I set up at festivals and fairs, and I talked about my motives and what I know to be true with everyone I encountered.

The resounding, unanimous response was “This is the book? Is this all you have?” Disappointment and confusion were evident in their incredulity.

I do indeed have other kids’ narratives ready to go, stories that need editing, illustrating, and querying, stories that I still hope to air out and share with the world.

Amidst the constant inner turmoil of “Finding Myself” in my late 20’s, I conceded. I thought back on the words, wise and otherwise. I remembered the picture book series I’d invented when I was a kid, the many hours I spent running my fingers down spines in the library stacks, and how I’d often pass the time by improvising radio plays starring multiple people and a Foley artist, all played by me and my indeterminate accents.

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Unfortunately though, this first book left me, and my readers, unfulfilled. I demonstrated my way with rhythmic meter, rhyme scheme, and teaching empowerment – a lifelong pursuit – but it did little to encompass the creative waterfall crashing down in my brain. I was getting more out of talking about my values with adults than I was out of creating books and resources for kids. I began to wonder if I had a novel in me, a novel to be enjoyed by the adults saying “I would have loved this picture book when I was kid.” Rather than writing for the next generation in a wistful way to make up for lost time, perhaps I could write to their parents instead – give them the love letter to our existence that encompasses my thoughts and feelings about life itself.

A lofty goal, to be sure.

The Scientist and I, searching for ways to pass the quaran-time together, began to talk about writing a book – but the subjects varied. He’s more comfortable in the realm of (who’d have guessed it?) academic nonfiction, and we may have a joint project in us yet about neurodiversity and the natural world. Neither of us was very motivated to write it, though, and the idea was shelved.

Then, one day, we started with the What Ifs of fiction – what sorts of books do we love? What sorts of stories do we crave? What hasn’t been done? A speculative, fantasy world which existed within and expanded upon our own called to us- a story of one man, that evolved into an epic battle, that began to cross time and existential planes. We stuck post-its to a posterboard and drew circles, connected by arrows, which became webs. I doodled in the margins of our collective, creative brain and he drew more tethers across environments and ecologies. We tried to explain to mutual friends but it wasn’t something that could lend itself to a this-then-that narration. They needed more. They wanted more. We had based our idea in our mutually shared interests and dedicated the themes to our values and suddenly we knew we had a trilogy on our hands.

A year passed and the idea stagnated. It would come up when we were hiking or on a road trip, but the actual process was mysterious and elusive.

I’d sit down to write a scene from the trilogy and feel overwhelmed by the scope of it.

I’d start on page one – I must have written 12 different page ones.

I’d bounce ideas off the Scientist who would look at me dumbfounded for reaching the story further and further outside our original scope. Was it fantasy or science fiction? Was it comedic, horror, speculative or historical? Was it intended for young adults or more mature readers? Was it a novel, a graphic novel, or something else entirely?

I’d awaken in the middle of the night (or somesuch) and think – it’s not THIS kind of story, it’s actually a parody of THIS kind of story, and I’d scrap every short piece and description, and start it all over again. Maybe it wasn’t a trilogy – it was a series of short stories. Maybe it was scifi, not fantasy. Maybe it was 2 separate ideas that don’t actually work together.

And so, as I’ve done with every bit of spiraling doubt that surrounds every project or interest I undertake, I researched process. How-to’s and what-for’s. For nearly another year, I took notes on saving the cat and creating a screenplay, looking for tropes in every movie and series, learning about arc, plot, and character development, and revisiting some of my favorite fictional works for clues as to how they were put together.

One answer kept coming up: There is no right way. There are no right answers.

There’s no one way to get a story of this magnitude down on paper. It won’t be written from start to finish. It can’t be outlined like an academic work or written in a single draft. Much of what is written first won’t be included in the final edit at all.

It isn’t like building a house – get the pieces, put them together in a reasonable order, stand back and admire the work. I could watch and read all the house building tutorials I wanted, but no one had ever built THIS HOUSE before.

Writing a story like this one is more like growing a garden of wildflowers. Start with the idea – I want to grow flowers – sculpt out the general flower bed-fertilize and aerate the soil, plant seeds and nourish them – then see what grows from there. What thrives and what outcompetes the others. What attracts the right insects and meshes well with the natural ecology. What would do better transplanted into another garden patch.

To paraphrase the great Neil Gaiman who was paraphrasing someone else he considers great, You never learn how to write a book, you only learn how to write THIS book. And to paraphrase Neil Gaiman again, you write the story to find out how you feel about the story.

And with that final burst of confident steam, I know, I’m writing this fantasy trilogy. It may take years. It may look and feel entirely different from where it is currently. But the more I write, the more I confer with the Scientist, and the more I speak about it, the more confidently I feel that I have something here. I am writing a story that needs to be told, a story that feels important, a story that keeps me going back every day, to take notes, to read research, to create settings and scenescapes and tonalities.

I’ll keep track of my journey here under the subheading: Writer, Meet the Internet.

Hey look Mom (and all the others out there who said so) – I’m a writer!

What the 4th is About, Really

The 4th of July was not a ceremonious date in our history. The actual signing of the Declaration of Independence wasn’t completed until mid-August.  On July 2nd, the press reported that we had declared our independence, and on July 4th, the Continental Congress approved the text of the Declaration, after making nearly 100 changes to the flowery, thickly philosophical prose which Jefferson had been soaking up and regurgitating from great philosophers.

As we celebrate today with cook-outs and fireworks, spare a thought for those colonists, who felt both ignored and oppressed by their ruler, who elected a congress to debate the proper course of action for dealing with the monarchy’s trampling of their rights as a united front. They were forlorn, exhausted, angered and shaken and they did what would become the first American act: they came together to overcome. Without knowing they’d be declaring their independence they did what we have struggled to do since: they moved our colonies as one (hotly debated, often agitated) voice.

There are definitely things in our country that need changing. People are struggling, forlorn, angered, and confused, and many have lost any solace in the structural integrity of a system that was intended (however slapshod and flawed) to uphold the rights of a majority (the definition of which has changed greatly, and for good reason.)

To correct the egregious issues, we must come together. Agree to put aside the smallest differences and take responsible action for the good of all. Stand together in the room and Find What Unites Us.  No matter how distasteful or aggravating or pointless the process may seem, no matter how disparate the vision.

That is really, truly, what July 4th, and what the United States is all about. As Lincoln said, nearly 100 years later, “I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him.”

Enjoy your celebration of the day, and the relaxing and recovering tomorrow. Consider what your country could really do for you, and what you can do for your fellow countrymen. Find the common ground for the common good.

Self-Aware Indecision, Summer 2016

Flashback Post

From time to time, I come across handwritten journal entries that are poignant and worth sharing. In the summer of 2016, I was floundering in the depths of self-awareness. Prior to realizing my neurodivergent status, I struggled with who, what, and how on a daily basis. Others seemed to have it so much more easily, much simpler, much more directly.

Without further ado, if you find yourself where I was, may you find yourself in due time.

Begin transmission.

‘But what do you want to do?’

At 28 years old, with 8 years of advanced education, a teaching license, a therapist’s credential, experience as a party planner, a bartender…

I had not really considered the question openly, What do I want to do?

With staggering nothingness in front and anxious regrets behind, and over $100,000 in student debt on my shoulders, the question just never felt valid. What do I want? To start over. To make those 18-yr-old decisions at 28. To embrace myself for who I am and, somehow, make money doing it.

I write from the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a truly lifelong spot of inspiration. I walked here from Penn Station, some 50 blocks, in this sweltering city heat, on a Tuesday in July. I’m grateful for the hot cement under my kicks. I’m grateful for direction.

I ponder the question of what to do as the lives of millions continue on around me. There is no one answer, but a series of possible futures radiating outward from every conceivable direction. I contemplate the most well-meaning advice from those closest to me.

You love teaching! You’re so good at it!’

You went all the way to Kansas to study music therapy. Open a practice. Make your money.’

‘Get married already.’ – this one, notably, my brother.

But all I want to do is write. Not for one cause, but for hundreds. For parents and children, for teachers and therapists, for people who want to feel connected to someone genuinely open and welcoming. I may be good at helping others, but all I want to do is help myself be better.

End transmission.

To her, the me of that summer, and to you if you’re with her, I say, it gets easier.

Love yourself to find your partner.

Love your ideas to find your mission.

Love your body to find your confidence.

Love your today to find comfort tomorrow.

Keep your growth mindset alive, and keep asking questions.

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May Blog Recap

Our second month taught us a lot about stamina and resilience in creating a sustainable blog.

Sunshine and the Scientist present: Putting Down Roots and Raking Up Leaves

continues to be a learning experience, an empathetic stomping ground, and a casual experiment.

In the month of May, we published 9 entries, 75% of April’s cache.

This wasn’t a calculated decision. The month of May got away from us, as social and occupational obligations began to add up. We had serious car trouble (another story for another day), which took Sunshine out of the writing running for nearly a week and a half. There was also a very lovely vacation weekend where barely any tech was touched.

By the Numbers

The 9 entries received a total of 114 views from 70 visitors, accessing from 10 countries. While the United States remains the center of our readership base by a factor of 10, we are gaining popularity with readers in Spain and the UK.

Comparison Statistics
 EntriesVisitorsViewsNew SubscribersCommentsLikes
April 20211292236171275
May 20219701144230
% Change(-25%)(-23.9%)(-51.7%)(-76.4%)(-83.3%)(-60%)

With 25% fewer entries, it is encouraging to have had approximately an equal drop in visitors. This is being attributed to a more deliberate social media sharing schedule, and is being interpreted favorably. After two months, there is a trend of approximately 8 visitors per entry, and this is a statistic which will be important moving forward.

Clearly, May was not as good as April in the numbers, as we missed our goals by respective landslides. But like true scientists, we learn by failing.

It appears there was a burst in followers in our first month, but a serious depreciation rate in the second. For this change, we will adjust our goals accordingly.

Comments and likes also depreciated, but this is partially attributable to the significantly decreased presence on the site overall. Many of the comments and likes in our first month were garnered from those pages we stopped in to comment, like, or subscribe to. In focusing more on social sharing, we decreased our previous WordPress Reader presence and thus our impact in our readers’ and potential readers’ view.

Qualitative Notes

An article from April, There’s Something About Lori, about Sunshine’s journey of self-discovery and personal autistic awareness, remained the most popular article on the blog in May.

This was followed by What We Learned Rebuilding, an in-depth look at the lessons Sunshine and the Scientist collected while rebuilding the front porch deck, regarding construction techniques and relationship building.

The Scientist would like me to add that while Sunshine called us “novices” in the entry, he is very adept and familiar with tools and hardware, and has (re)constructed decks before. Sunshine was the true novice during the build, and please know the article was written mostly from her perspective.

The Scientist has also since begun work in a laboratory where he uses power tools and crafting materials all the time, and we cannot wait to share with you more about his new profession in a future entry.

Please, Stop Asking Kids this One Question was the third most popular entry, informed by Sunshine’s years of working with autistic children and incorporating her unusual, yet accurate, observations as an atypical, neurodiverse woman. While the Scientist finds the blog entry to be gripping and informative, Sunshine believes it was likely too lengthy for the message it hopes to communicate, which is simply: Never ask a “did you tell” question to a child when you know, and they know you know, the answer. Click the link above for anecdotal and descriptive explanations.

Less popular was the Modern Retellings series, debuting on Friday afternoons, and currently featuring the titles The Fox and the Briefcase, The Snapchat Gnat, and Friendly, Feathered Competition. The series is intent on communicating Aesop’s fables in 2-minutes-or-less, in more technologically savvy allegories. Despite its reception, the series will continue into June, because it is something we believe is vital and currently missing from our cultural discourse.

Setting Goals for June

The goals for May were simple, and somewhat qualitative:

  • Increase reach, reception, and enhance discourse
  • Publish 15 entries, plus Stats and Goals
  • Use feedback to enhance article content
  • June Goals:

    In an effort to continue to thrive at any new commitment, attainable goals are necessary. Failing to meet a goal provides a learning opportunity, and the chance to reset and refocus with intention.

    Keeping this in mind, in the month of June, we aim to:

    – Publish 2 Science and nature entries, 1 Relationship-building entry, 3 Modern Retellings entries, and perhaps at least 1 update, among others, with an ideal of 10 (this month +1)
    – Increase activity by seeking out further interactions through the WordPress reader
    – Maintain current levels of social link sharing to maintain and promote readership

    …Wait, one more thing!

    The most informative and most critical article we wrote this month was Tick Tock, Ticks are Hungry. Sunshine and the Scientist strongly encourage you to know the risk of ticks in your area and to take all necessary precautions. Check out your local, county, and state park websites for relevant information, and skim through the list we’ve cultivated to assert safe practices. Did you know ticks are arachnids who grow a pair of legs each year? Did you know they don’t fly or jump, but attach to bodies that brush by their outstretched, leafy perch? All that and more in the article linked above.

    Photo by Erik Karits on Pexels.com

    Thanks for reading!