Even if there is nothing to laugh about, laugh on credit.
Unknown
***********
Hello Ernie
***********
In my novel "Brian and Christine" the Navajo chief's wife is named Laughing Woman. Someone asks the chief if she laughs and he answers, "Well, she smiles a lot." She is a character who faces life with not only a positive attitude but an ability to see the funny side of things. Her laugh is always just below the surface.
As I was preparing to write this article I thought about some people I know and have known who can throw back their heads and enjoy a good laugh when something strikes them funny. Stuart in New York, AZ in Maine and Della wherever she is, came to mind right away.
I knew a college girl named Joy. I've written about her before. She was the most appropriately named Joy I ever knew. One could tell by the look in her eye that she was enjoying life and that a good laugh was a definite probability at any moment. She was a theatre major and even when she played serious scenes she displayed a light source.
There are good laughs and bad laughs. To laugh at life's absurdities isn't bad. To laugh at yourself is good. To laugh at other people, and particularly their mistakes, is not so good. To laugh because you have no other reason than that you feel like laughing is probably the best.
I don't laugh much these day, but then I was never a big laugher. I enjoyed other people's humor and used to tell a lot of jokes just to see them laugh. These days I'm looking forward to laughter, to humor, to joy.
The last time I remember having a good laugh was in the first reading of "Best Friends" a play I did over 10 years ago. It was a comedy, of course, and we in the cast had the first laughs as we began to prepare it and then to play it well enough so the audience could laugh, which they did.
I don't hear anyone laugh around where I live now. An occasional wicked giggle is about the best this neighborhood can come up with. I'm looking for a good laugh and a good laugher. If you know of anyone, please send them here.
DB - The Vagabond
Never give up.
******************
Showing posts with label brian and christine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brian and christine. Show all posts
Friday, June 1, 2012
Monday, August 23, 2010
Embrace The Idea
Let your heart be without words, rather than your words without heart.
Unknown
*******************
It has been said the reason for Shakespeare's abiding success as a playwright is because he loved all of his characters, even the nasty ones. I think that's true. How could he have written the serpentine maneuverings of Iago, the flamboyant character of Richard the Third or the electrifying ravings of Falstaff if he didn't thoroughly enjoy their company.
And yet I think there was probably a lot more to those characters in his mind than he could include in his limited traffic of the stage. Once the image moves from the mind and takes it's place in the heart the writer is faced with carefully crafting the words and engineering the plot to tell the stories of those characters. But their lives remain in the writers heart.
In my novel, "Brian and Christine" (which someone had better publish one day soon because it's damn good) I introduce the character of Mother Magda, the faux nun and arch villain of the story. When I first invented her I sort of knew what she looked like and how she sounded. She doesn't appear until late in the story. You only know about her as a silent voice on the telephone, which means all you know of her is how the main character reacts to talking with her. She gradually took shape. When she finally does appear she doesn't say much but you are ready to treat her with the disgust she deserves. I love that character.
I have been asked who I fashioned the character of Christine on. The answer is no one. She is a pure invention of mine. I don't know any 10 year old girls. Unlike Mother Magda who gradually came to life in my thoughts, Christine showed up magically, right away with no invitation and quickly won my heart.
That is the way it is with writing, art and any worthwhile endeavor. The idea must live in one's heart until it becomes beloved before the words and deeds that truly articulate it can be found.
Dana Bate
The Vagabond
*********************
SUMMER QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Who are the 2 (two) most important people alive today? Why?
Only 7 responses so far.
dbdacoba@aol.com
Thank you.
DB
********************
Unknown
*******************
It has been said the reason for Shakespeare's abiding success as a playwright is because he loved all of his characters, even the nasty ones. I think that's true. How could he have written the serpentine maneuverings of Iago, the flamboyant character of Richard the Third or the electrifying ravings of Falstaff if he didn't thoroughly enjoy their company.
And yet I think there was probably a lot more to those characters in his mind than he could include in his limited traffic of the stage. Once the image moves from the mind and takes it's place in the heart the writer is faced with carefully crafting the words and engineering the plot to tell the stories of those characters. But their lives remain in the writers heart.
In my novel, "Brian and Christine" (which someone had better publish one day soon because it's damn good) I introduce the character of Mother Magda, the faux nun and arch villain of the story. When I first invented her I sort of knew what she looked like and how she sounded. She doesn't appear until late in the story. You only know about her as a silent voice on the telephone, which means all you know of her is how the main character reacts to talking with her. She gradually took shape. When she finally does appear she doesn't say much but you are ready to treat her with the disgust she deserves. I love that character.
I have been asked who I fashioned the character of Christine on. The answer is no one. She is a pure invention of mine. I don't know any 10 year old girls. Unlike Mother Magda who gradually came to life in my thoughts, Christine showed up magically, right away with no invitation and quickly won my heart.
That is the way it is with writing, art and any worthwhile endeavor. The idea must live in one's heart until it becomes beloved before the words and deeds that truly articulate it can be found.
Dana Bate
The Vagabond
*********************
SUMMER QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Who are the 2 (two) most important people alive today? Why?
Only 7 responses so far.
dbdacoba@aol.com
Thank you.
DB
********************
Friday, March 26, 2010
Get Up
The basest of all things is to be afraid.
William Faulkner
*******************
One of the biggest and fiercest demons to face in the struggle to survive is not wanting to.
I, like millions of other people in the world, have become adept at the fine art of surviving on nothing. It probably has to do with my boyhood. My father died when I was 4. He went believing that his army pension would take care of his family. He was a war hero and had been decorated by General Patton. But because he wasn't on active duty when he went the government declined to grant my mother his pension. She had a nervous breakdown. But she didn't die. In fact she went on to live another 40 to 50 years.
Within two years of my father's death she sold the house and we plunged into terrifying poverty. I can't even remember some of the places I've lived. My mother had been an actress, she had no other skills, She went off to a typing job everyday with arthritic fingers. She was tough.
I know an actor, talented and reasonably well trained, who refuses to give up his night time office job to engange in an acting career. He would rather lose sleep and take roles in small productions for no money than face the fear, that deep knot in the stomach, over financial insecurity. Unless you're a soap opera actor, financial insecurity is the game. We all face it. We learn to live with it.
During the depression of the 20's men who had lost everything leapt to their deaths out of skyscraper windows. Some men were seen sleeping, mid day, in their blue suits on the grass in Bryant Park. Other men found something else to do. There were a few who sold their wife's strawberry jam from door to door.
In this last depression CEO's found a faster way to go by stepping in front of fast moving trains. The fear of loss, of having nothing left, of not knowing how to survive on nothing has caused a lot of death and destruction. It is a terrifying state for anyone to be in. But FDR said it clearly "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Those men died because of a base fear they couldn't face and death seemed to be the best alternative.
I have faced that fear myself many times and came close to thinking that the best thing to do was to pull the plug on myself. But I kept in mind a quote from Shakespeare, "There's place and means for every man alive." But to find that place and means you have to be alive.
It is said that the Donner Party when stranded next to a frozen lake in the Winter while trying to reach California chewed on bark. In my story Brian And Christine, when lost in a frozen wilderness, they also chew on bark just to stay alive. Brian, Christine and the Donners eventually made it out to safety. Some would have given up and died.
Someone once said that success is getting up one more time than you fall. There's no question that falling is a precipice of fear and getting up again is a big struggle.
Does heaven give us any reward for getting up? Probably not. And does the falling and getting up go on in an endless chain of events? Maybe. But as angry, depressed and fearful as I get, I wish to shake my fist at failure, laugh and go looking for the strawberry jam.
DB - The Vagabond
********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
3 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
William Faulkner
*******************
One of the biggest and fiercest demons to face in the struggle to survive is not wanting to.
I, like millions of other people in the world, have become adept at the fine art of surviving on nothing. It probably has to do with my boyhood. My father died when I was 4. He went believing that his army pension would take care of his family. He was a war hero and had been decorated by General Patton. But because he wasn't on active duty when he went the government declined to grant my mother his pension. She had a nervous breakdown. But she didn't die. In fact she went on to live another 40 to 50 years.
Within two years of my father's death she sold the house and we plunged into terrifying poverty. I can't even remember some of the places I've lived. My mother had been an actress, she had no other skills, She went off to a typing job everyday with arthritic fingers. She was tough.
I know an actor, talented and reasonably well trained, who refuses to give up his night time office job to engange in an acting career. He would rather lose sleep and take roles in small productions for no money than face the fear, that deep knot in the stomach, over financial insecurity. Unless you're a soap opera actor, financial insecurity is the game. We all face it. We learn to live with it.
During the depression of the 20's men who had lost everything leapt to their deaths out of skyscraper windows. Some men were seen sleeping, mid day, in their blue suits on the grass in Bryant Park. Other men found something else to do. There were a few who sold their wife's strawberry jam from door to door.
In this last depression CEO's found a faster way to go by stepping in front of fast moving trains. The fear of loss, of having nothing left, of not knowing how to survive on nothing has caused a lot of death and destruction. It is a terrifying state for anyone to be in. But FDR said it clearly "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." Those men died because of a base fear they couldn't face and death seemed to be the best alternative.
I have faced that fear myself many times and came close to thinking that the best thing to do was to pull the plug on myself. But I kept in mind a quote from Shakespeare, "There's place and means for every man alive." But to find that place and means you have to be alive.
It is said that the Donner Party when stranded next to a frozen lake in the Winter while trying to reach California chewed on bark. In my story Brian And Christine, when lost in a frozen wilderness, they also chew on bark just to stay alive. Brian, Christine and the Donners eventually made it out to safety. Some would have given up and died.
Someone once said that success is getting up one more time than you fall. There's no question that falling is a precipice of fear and getting up again is a big struggle.
Does heaven give us any reward for getting up? Probably not. And does the falling and getting up go on in an endless chain of events? Maybe. But as angry, depressed and fearful as I get, I wish to shake my fist at failure, laugh and go looking for the strawberry jam.
DB - The Vagabond
********************
SPRING QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
In your opinion what is the most amazing thing that could happen during this decade? Make it as outrageous as you want but keep it within the realm of what you consider a possibility.
3 responses so far.
Answers will be published the first day of Summer.
dbdacoba@aol.com
DB - The Vagabond
*******************
Monday, May 18, 2009
Quality Quest 5/18/09
The man who really knows is the man who is always willing to learn.
DB - The Vagabond
***************
Hello, whoever you are.
----------------
No man is more certain of his knowledge and wisdom than an ignorant man. I've known many. In fact, I used to be one myself. No, don't laugh. I was. I was a first rate, award winning, loud mouth dope. Thank goodness those days are over (now you can laugh). Now, of course, I know everything. At least I thought I did until I read a few items in today's paper.
There's a big difference between ignorance and stupidity, Ignorance is a condition that's curable, like youth. Stupidity is forever. I think ignorance comes about because people are afraid of change and challenge, or else they are too old and tired to face them and just want to dig their heels into the ground they know about. What a shame.
A friend's daughter, a school girl, was keeping a journal. She entitled it "Things I learned today." I thought it was a good idea, so I started to keep one of my own. But I divided the entries up into three columns: things I learned today, things I knew but forgot about, and, things I already know. I finally had to give it up because the columns were getting filled up quickly. But it did develop one valuable habit, the habit of seeking out new information, noticing it when it came upon me and comparing it with what I already knew or thought I knew about the topic.
Intellectual curiosity is an exercise that doesn't wear one out much, doesn't require a lot of equipment and isn't likely to cause any bodily harm. Why do people shun it as if it was going to send them up river to the funny farm. "All that reading of books isn't good for the mind."
Some of the women bloggers that I read can talk about what is growing, now that spring is here, outside their houses and in their gardens and I enjoy reading about them even though I don't know one flower from another. I never had the ability or interest to find out. I never lived anywhere where there was an active garden. About flowers I'm ignorant, I admit it (I can't even make a cactus grow), but I admire the people who know about plants and flowers and can write about them in their journals. So keep growing them girls, and keep telling me about it.
In fact, I admire anyone who knows a lot about something that I know little or nothing about, especially when they share their knowledge with me. It means there is always something for me to learn.
I like to have an open, enquiring mind. There are still a lot of mysteries to look into. I finished writing my novel "Brian and Christine" and posted the last entry, yesterday afternoon. Then I took a nap. When I awoke the first thing I said to myself was "Okay, what's next?"
DB
___________
Have a good, happy laugh today.
********************
DB - The Vagabond
***************
Hello, whoever you are.
----------------
No man is more certain of his knowledge and wisdom than an ignorant man. I've known many. In fact, I used to be one myself. No, don't laugh. I was. I was a first rate, award winning, loud mouth dope. Thank goodness those days are over (now you can laugh). Now, of course, I know everything. At least I thought I did until I read a few items in today's paper.
There's a big difference between ignorance and stupidity, Ignorance is a condition that's curable, like youth. Stupidity is forever. I think ignorance comes about because people are afraid of change and challenge, or else they are too old and tired to face them and just want to dig their heels into the ground they know about. What a shame.
A friend's daughter, a school girl, was keeping a journal. She entitled it "Things I learned today." I thought it was a good idea, so I started to keep one of my own. But I divided the entries up into three columns: things I learned today, things I knew but forgot about, and, things I already know. I finally had to give it up because the columns were getting filled up quickly. But it did develop one valuable habit, the habit of seeking out new information, noticing it when it came upon me and comparing it with what I already knew or thought I knew about the topic.
Intellectual curiosity is an exercise that doesn't wear one out much, doesn't require a lot of equipment and isn't likely to cause any bodily harm. Why do people shun it as if it was going to send them up river to the funny farm. "All that reading of books isn't good for the mind."
Some of the women bloggers that I read can talk about what is growing, now that spring is here, outside their houses and in their gardens and I enjoy reading about them even though I don't know one flower from another. I never had the ability or interest to find out. I never lived anywhere where there was an active garden. About flowers I'm ignorant, I admit it (I can't even make a cactus grow), but I admire the people who know about plants and flowers and can write about them in their journals. So keep growing them girls, and keep telling me about it.
In fact, I admire anyone who knows a lot about something that I know little or nothing about, especially when they share their knowledge with me. It means there is always something for me to learn.
I like to have an open, enquiring mind. There are still a lot of mysteries to look into. I finished writing my novel "Brian and Christine" and posted the last entry, yesterday afternoon. Then I took a nap. When I awoke the first thing I said to myself was "Okay, what's next?"
DB
___________
Have a good, happy laugh today.
********************
Monday, March 30, 2009
Universal Urge 3/30/09
It is only those who have a deep and real inner life who are best able to deal with the irritating details of outer life.
Evelyn Underhill
*****************
Read on my friend.
----------------------
An artist is an artist because he has to be. Science tells us what the facts of life are. Art tells us what they mean. It is the forever, infinite search for those meanings that propel an artist into places that few people know about. It is a window and a door to the invisible truth of our existence. It is an exploration into a cave of an imagination that becomes a reality to anyone awake enough to realize it.
An artist knows what the painting looks like and keeps painting until it looks like that. The composer Hindemith once wrote that he hears the entire composition in his head in a flash, like a bolt of lightening lighting up a landscape, and then he sits with a pen carefully putting musical notes on a page until the score says what the flash of inspiration showed him.
I know the ending of my Brian and Christine story and every day I make inches toward it. I had to stop to do my taxes, but when they were done I was able to pick up writing just where I left off, because the story and the writing of it were the more important things in my head. I don't ask if it is important to the world. It was given to me in a flash. It has to be written.
What that means is that the real deep inner life of someone such as an artist takes the place of the mundane, petty tasks of the day and thus renders them easier to do.
The uncomfortable road some people find themselves on is one where life is defined by those simple tasks. When the deeds are done, then what? If there is no other life going on those people will start looking around for other simple tasks until life is filled up with them, tiredness easily sets in because there is no excitement in doing them and the person has become robbed of the chance to really explore something deeper and more important, some flash of inspiration that reflects off a distant planet from the universal mind into the only mind on earth capable of receiving it.
One doesn't have to be an artist to have "a deep and real inner life." There are deep, intellectual, philosophical, spiritual, technological, natural, scientific roads to travel . There are inventions and discoveries to be made everywhere. The early steps of the journey are to admit that the unseen and unknown are there waiting for you, that you have the right to the discoveries along the way and that pursuing is the joy and not proving anything to the world.
We all live on the crusts of the most sublime wisdom and there is no more exciting place to be,
Vagabond Journeys
_______________
May your light shine bright today.
Evelyn Underhill
*****************
Read on my friend.
----------------------
An artist is an artist because he has to be. Science tells us what the facts of life are. Art tells us what they mean. It is the forever, infinite search for those meanings that propel an artist into places that few people know about. It is a window and a door to the invisible truth of our existence. It is an exploration into a cave of an imagination that becomes a reality to anyone awake enough to realize it.
An artist knows what the painting looks like and keeps painting until it looks like that. The composer Hindemith once wrote that he hears the entire composition in his head in a flash, like a bolt of lightening lighting up a landscape, and then he sits with a pen carefully putting musical notes on a page until the score says what the flash of inspiration showed him.
I know the ending of my Brian and Christine story and every day I make inches toward it. I had to stop to do my taxes, but when they were done I was able to pick up writing just where I left off, because the story and the writing of it were the more important things in my head. I don't ask if it is important to the world. It was given to me in a flash. It has to be written.
What that means is that the real deep inner life of someone such as an artist takes the place of the mundane, petty tasks of the day and thus renders them easier to do.
The uncomfortable road some people find themselves on is one where life is defined by those simple tasks. When the deeds are done, then what? If there is no other life going on those people will start looking around for other simple tasks until life is filled up with them, tiredness easily sets in because there is no excitement in doing them and the person has become robbed of the chance to really explore something deeper and more important, some flash of inspiration that reflects off a distant planet from the universal mind into the only mind on earth capable of receiving it.
One doesn't have to be an artist to have "a deep and real inner life." There are deep, intellectual, philosophical, spiritual, technological, natural, scientific roads to travel . There are inventions and discoveries to be made everywhere. The early steps of the journey are to admit that the unseen and unknown are there waiting for you, that you have the right to the discoveries along the way and that pursuing is the joy and not proving anything to the world.
We all live on the crusts of the most sublime wisdom and there is no more exciting place to be,
Vagabond Journeys
_______________
May your light shine bright today.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Trusted Transfiguration 12/30/08
Knowledge is the spirit that saves the heart from the darkness of ignorance, it is the light that saves it from the darkness of iniquity.
Abu Ali Thaqafi
************************
Yesterday was the Islamic New Years Day. May you have lasting peace.
-----------------------------------------
The only times during the day when I feel everything is all right is when I'm sleeping or I'm writing even though I'm a wretched typist.
My long story, Brian and Christine, http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/ occupies me everyday. I know how the story ends but I don't yet know how to get there. I'm discovering the pathway as I go, one or two jumps ahead of my readers, cutting my way through the jungle of troubles, misunderstandings and injustices.
One of the big discoveries I've made along that route is that a lot of the trouble Brian has to deal with has come about through ignorance, his own and other people's. The story unfolds and conflicts get resolved by gaining bits of information, putting them with other bits of information, clearing up misunderstandings and thus gaining knowledge.
Backing away from my computer and looking out the window to the street below I see children going to the library. I note how fortunate they are to live in a country where there are libraries accessible to them, where they have schools and teachers, where they can easily gain information which will give them knowledge, and hence understanding and possibly even wisdom.
I also note how much iniquity there is in the world. Wrong doing by people who should know better and who would if they had the ability to learn right doing or who took advantage of the opportunity to gain the information that is available to them.
When I first began reading philosophy my main interest was in the field of ethics, a topic that has occupied philosophers since the beginning. It's a very complicated subject, it seems. And yet it's one of the most outward looking practices of the philosopher. It is germane to the subject of ethics that it address a conscientious and coordinated system of behavior toward other human beings and all living things. It necessarily focuses thought away from the self and onto one's place in society.
The world seems to be so filled with abuses: domestic violence, street gangs, robbery, rape, fathers attacking their sons' soccer coaches, teachers abusing their students, managers abusing their workers, child slavery and prostitution, owners abusing their animals, torture, graft and corruption in government and business, careless wasting of money by the rich, terrorism, racism, religious intolerance, fanaticism, revenge, the gouging of people's incomes by government, the shameless waste of natural resources, overpricing of necessary items, hatred, war and all other iniquities too many to name, that it seems most of the human race has never heard the word "ethics."
People will talk about ethical behavior on the left side while they are cheating their neighbors out of something on the right side. Or what is even worse, they will use the idea of ethics to justify some unethical behavior: "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
My story has given me a chance to look some of this immorality in the face and explore it directly or indirectly. I'm not a great writer but I'm learning. I'm gaining knowledge. And one of the things I've learned is that in order to convey knowledge and understanding a writer must tell the truth and reveal things about himself. Secrets must be told. While it's true that he who has more knowledge can do more evil, he can also do more good. There is no such thing as generic good or generic evil in this life. It all comes down to the individual, his knowledge of the world around him and his behavior in it.
Vagabond Journeys
Abu Ali Thaqafi
************************
Yesterday was the Islamic New Years Day. May you have lasting peace.
-----------------------------------------
The only times during the day when I feel everything is all right is when I'm sleeping or I'm writing even though I'm a wretched typist.
My long story, Brian and Christine, http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/ occupies me everyday. I know how the story ends but I don't yet know how to get there. I'm discovering the pathway as I go, one or two jumps ahead of my readers, cutting my way through the jungle of troubles, misunderstandings and injustices.
One of the big discoveries I've made along that route is that a lot of the trouble Brian has to deal with has come about through ignorance, his own and other people's. The story unfolds and conflicts get resolved by gaining bits of information, putting them with other bits of information, clearing up misunderstandings and thus gaining knowledge.
Backing away from my computer and looking out the window to the street below I see children going to the library. I note how fortunate they are to live in a country where there are libraries accessible to them, where they have schools and teachers, where they can easily gain information which will give them knowledge, and hence understanding and possibly even wisdom.
I also note how much iniquity there is in the world. Wrong doing by people who should know better and who would if they had the ability to learn right doing or who took advantage of the opportunity to gain the information that is available to them.
When I first began reading philosophy my main interest was in the field of ethics, a topic that has occupied philosophers since the beginning. It's a very complicated subject, it seems. And yet it's one of the most outward looking practices of the philosopher. It is germane to the subject of ethics that it address a conscientious and coordinated system of behavior toward other human beings and all living things. It necessarily focuses thought away from the self and onto one's place in society.
The world seems to be so filled with abuses: domestic violence, street gangs, robbery, rape, fathers attacking their sons' soccer coaches, teachers abusing their students, managers abusing their workers, child slavery and prostitution, owners abusing their animals, torture, graft and corruption in government and business, careless wasting of money by the rich, terrorism, racism, religious intolerance, fanaticism, revenge, the gouging of people's incomes by government, the shameless waste of natural resources, overpricing of necessary items, hatred, war and all other iniquities too many to name, that it seems most of the human race has never heard the word "ethics."
People will talk about ethical behavior on the left side while they are cheating their neighbors out of something on the right side. Or what is even worse, they will use the idea of ethics to justify some unethical behavior: "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
My story has given me a chance to look some of this immorality in the face and explore it directly or indirectly. I'm not a great writer but I'm learning. I'm gaining knowledge. And one of the things I've learned is that in order to convey knowledge and understanding a writer must tell the truth and reveal things about himself. Secrets must be told. While it's true that he who has more knowledge can do more evil, he can also do more good. There is no such thing as generic good or generic evil in this life. It all comes down to the individual, his knowledge of the world around him and his behavior in it.
Vagabond Journeys
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Whimsical Weighting 12/06/08
The reader's own life "outside" the story, changes the story.
David Wallace
*******************
Now that I'm writing stories I can see the truth of this statement, but only because my stories are serialized. I can read from emails and comments how readers are variously affected by the tale as it unfolds. I can sense one person's reaction to a certain character as compared with someone else's reaction to the same character. I can read how people are taking sides on certain issues as they arise. In fact, I can even appreciate and incorporate suggestions as to how the story should progress. I'll bet any serial writer has experienced the same energy from his readers.
The title of my main journal is Vagabond Journeys. One reason is that I have always thought of life as a journey, at least my life is. Whether it was hitchhiking across the country, following trails up and down the mountains of the Northeast, going from one theatre to another, walking along the sidewalks of New York City as if I was treading on the ledges of the universe or even going from one room to another, it has always been a journey to me.
This is the way I write. I have a beginning and I have a destination. I know how the story is going to end. Getting from the beginning to the end is the journey. That's where the creative work is done. Characters are introduced along the way as they are needed, some stay, some don't. Some are mentioned before they appear. But in every case readers will let me know how important they think those characters are.
The long story I'm writing now, Brian and Christine, is not about a plane crash, a small town in Utah, a major motion picture, an orphanage or the terrors that are coming. It's about a very unlikely relationship between two people. The last character to appear in this story has already been mentioned. I always appreciate the comments I get because I want the readers to be involved with the lives of all the characters, and to go along with me on this journey, and perhaps even point out some sign posts along the way.
My thanks to you.
DB
http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/
David Wallace
*******************
Now that I'm writing stories I can see the truth of this statement, but only because my stories are serialized. I can read from emails and comments how readers are variously affected by the tale as it unfolds. I can sense one person's reaction to a certain character as compared with someone else's reaction to the same character. I can read how people are taking sides on certain issues as they arise. In fact, I can even appreciate and incorporate suggestions as to how the story should progress. I'll bet any serial writer has experienced the same energy from his readers.
The title of my main journal is Vagabond Journeys. One reason is that I have always thought of life as a journey, at least my life is. Whether it was hitchhiking across the country, following trails up and down the mountains of the Northeast, going from one theatre to another, walking along the sidewalks of New York City as if I was treading on the ledges of the universe or even going from one room to another, it has always been a journey to me.
This is the way I write. I have a beginning and I have a destination. I know how the story is going to end. Getting from the beginning to the end is the journey. That's where the creative work is done. Characters are introduced along the way as they are needed, some stay, some don't. Some are mentioned before they appear. But in every case readers will let me know how important they think those characters are.
The long story I'm writing now, Brian and Christine, is not about a plane crash, a small town in Utah, a major motion picture, an orphanage or the terrors that are coming. It's about a very unlikely relationship between two people. The last character to appear in this story has already been mentioned. I always appreciate the comments I get because I want the readers to be involved with the lives of all the characters, and to go along with me on this journey, and perhaps even point out some sign posts along the way.
My thanks to you.
DB
http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Striking Surprises 12/02/08
The artist's vocation is to shed light into the human heart.
George Sand
*********************
First of all here's some newsy updates. My stove and oven are back on. I have a new can opener so I could enjoy my beans and tuna for thanksgiving. The heat is on, but it's rather pathetic. I borrowed a space heater from someone. I have to return it so I'm thinking of getting one for myself. I have a monitor that works very well. I have a Marie Antoinette Award and a second NeoCounter. They are both buried way down at the bottom of my journal entries and on the wrong side. I was told I could click and drag them but that is not happening, Any advice?
I asked if anyone knew the author of yesterdays quote and someone did.
pacing
the shore
the ship's cat
- Raymond Roseliep
(Thank you George)
If you are not one who reads my stories you can skip this part. A full day of battle on the field at Agincourt has brought the result that all of my stories are now in a blog called Vagabond Tales, Oddly, someone else also has that title but has not posted an entry in 3 years. The best way to find me is to go to my extended profile and click on Vagabond Tales. All the Brian stories are there and The Lodge. Part One of the long story, The Long Walk, is there from beginning to end (with no cliff hangers). And all the entries of Part Two, Buffalo Gap, are there in reverse order the way they appeared in Vagabond Journeys. Don't worry about the numbering, It got all messed up, I'll fix it. I will soon have Vagabond Journeys unencumbered from Brian and Christine who will then reside solely on Vagabond Tales. The next entry of the tale will be tomorrow.
I started this journal, Vagabond Journeys, a little under a year ago. All I did was to put quotes from the famous and not so famous, brief slivers of light I thought would be helpful to people. Daily Dollops, I called them. I had some email friends reading me but no one read my journal until the amazing Linda in Washington State came upon it one day and started telling people, Then I had some readers and some other journals to read. So I started writing brief essays about the quotes I was using. From there I began sending News From The Burb every now and then, bits of information about the silly things that were happening in my neighborhood. That reached it highest level with the serial story of Blackie the town python. After that I started writing fictional short stories about Brian Sims. Now I'm writing a long one. All of them were an attempt to shed some "light into the human heart."
What's next?
http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/
DB - The Vagabond
George Sand
*********************
First of all here's some newsy updates. My stove and oven are back on. I have a new can opener so I could enjoy my beans and tuna for thanksgiving. The heat is on, but it's rather pathetic. I borrowed a space heater from someone. I have to return it so I'm thinking of getting one for myself. I have a monitor that works very well. I have a Marie Antoinette Award and a second NeoCounter. They are both buried way down at the bottom of my journal entries and on the wrong side. I was told I could click and drag them but that is not happening, Any advice?
I asked if anyone knew the author of yesterdays quote and someone did.
pacing
the shore
the ship's cat
- Raymond Roseliep
(Thank you George)
If you are not one who reads my stories you can skip this part. A full day of battle on the field at Agincourt has brought the result that all of my stories are now in a blog called Vagabond Tales, Oddly, someone else also has that title but has not posted an entry in 3 years. The best way to find me is to go to my extended profile and click on Vagabond Tales. All the Brian stories are there and The Lodge. Part One of the long story, The Long Walk, is there from beginning to end (with no cliff hangers). And all the entries of Part Two, Buffalo Gap, are there in reverse order the way they appeared in Vagabond Journeys. Don't worry about the numbering, It got all messed up, I'll fix it. I will soon have Vagabond Journeys unencumbered from Brian and Christine who will then reside solely on Vagabond Tales. The next entry of the tale will be tomorrow.
I started this journal, Vagabond Journeys, a little under a year ago. All I did was to put quotes from the famous and not so famous, brief slivers of light I thought would be helpful to people. Daily Dollops, I called them. I had some email friends reading me but no one read my journal until the amazing Linda in Washington State came upon it one day and started telling people, Then I had some readers and some other journals to read. So I started writing brief essays about the quotes I was using. From there I began sending News From The Burb every now and then, bits of information about the silly things that were happening in my neighborhood. That reached it highest level with the serial story of Blackie the town python. After that I started writing fictional short stories about Brian Sims. Now I'm writing a long one. All of them were an attempt to shed some "light into the human heart."
What's next?
http://db-vagabondtales.blogspot.com/
DB - The Vagabond
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