Author: Natalie Hart

Cures for Invisibility?

~ Natalie Hart ~ 1 Comment

I shouldn’t write this tonight. I had a nap today. This may sound like a lovely way to spend an afternoon, but when I nap, I wake up queasy and (there is no better way to put it) bitchy. In other words, a terrible time to write a thoughtful blog post, but it’s been over a week since my last one, and that’s way too long.

But I want to put the invisibility thing to bed (since I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight, something needs to go to bed).

Not so fast

I was talking about Calling Invisible Women with a woman in her 70s, who was surprised by one of the themes of the novel (that women in their 50s feel invisible and powerless), because in her experience, women in their 50s were often at the height of their career, powerful in their organizations, courageous in speaking out.

True. I can think of lots of women who fit that description. And that’s part of the solution for the women in the book. They treat their invisibility as a superpower, making life better around them, but at least Clover’s family still doesn’t notice. At the end of the novel, one invisible woman (a Russian mail order bride) travels far to meet Clover and deliver one of the best pep talks ever. I had to bring the book back to the library, so I don’t have the exact quote, but it essentially goes like this: we’ve been acting like we’re Chechnya, but we’re not little victims to be squashed by big, bad Russia (aka pharmaceutical company). With the power of our voices, our stories, our media savvy (or that of our children), our insistence on being heard, we are Russia.

And, indeed, the invisible women get cracking and the ensuing media blitz brings the pharmaceutical company to its knees, many women get their jobs back, and they have lives more vibrant than before they became invisible.

So the woman at the height of her courage and powers is one part of the story of women in their 50s. But so is the woman who drifted along, cutting everyone else slack, making excuses for everyone, and found herself doing all the drudge work and getting no recognition for everything she gave up for the sake of others.

Maybe this is a particularly lively fear for me since I’ve mostly been a stay-at-home mom for 14 years. Yes, I’ve done freelance work, and in-office work for a couple of years, not to mention the novel writing. But it’s so easy to make excuses for everyone else’s stress and not insist on things I might’ve insisted on in the past. To let things slide. Sometimes, this is a kind thing to do, but it can get to be a nasty habit that I can see leading to accepting invisibility.

Invisibility might not always be so bad

My older friend also remembered when men in general stopped noticing her — it was a relief. Freeing, even.

I can see that, and celebrate that, eve. But it’s complicated for me. I no longer get catcalls and rude suggestions from idiots driving by, and I don’t miss them one bit. I no longer have the internal debate: am I in a public enough place to be safe to give that guy the finger? I don’t have to think about what I’m wearing to try to minimize attention. But I’d miss the occasional moment of recognition of me as an attractive woman by cashiers, waiters, etc. Those are nice little moments.

However, I can’t stop myself from growing older. Those moments will go away and I’ll have to rely on my friends to tell me how amazing I look in my turtleneck (which we’re all wearing because we feel bad about our necks). When it happens, I’m sure it’ll be fine. It already is fine. I’ll remember to treat it as something freeing.

We’re back to seeing

I’ve written about seeing before, both the power of being seen and allowing yourself to be seen. I’ve even thrown God into the mix. That’s what this book comes down to: seeing. Making sure that I pay attention, both to my own life and to the people around me. Looking cashiers in the eye when I thank them. Making sure I keep handing over household chores to the kids. Nudging the grandkids to help with dinnertime chores (even though my mother slips up the stairs from the beach so quietly and does almost all the work before we get up to the house). Thanking my husband for doing his regular stuff around the house. Not giving up so easily on relationship issues. Showing what’s really behind the mirage of omni-competence. Paying attention.

Real invisibility

While anyone of any racial or socio-economic group can be taken for granted in their family unit, the novel mostly focuses on middle class, mostly white women. They are a couple of nods to women who the characters recognize are possibly more invisible than they are: hotel maids. Hotel maids here stand for all those people, mostly minorities, often immigrants, who do the crappiest, most thankless jobs, who work long hours for low pay, who are easy to ignore, who many people often prefer to ignore. If I decry invisibility for myself, I have to decry it for them, too. If I pay attention to my own life and my friends’ and families’ lives, I have to pay attention to their lives, too.

One more person to pay attention to

Thank you, Jeanne Ray, for writing this dystopian novel for the middle-aged woman. I don’t think it’ll take off as a subgenre like the YA dystopian novel has, and I’m not sure I’d get into it if it did, but Calling Invisible Women gave me a lot to think about while entertaining me. And that’s always a good thing.

 

Are You Testing Your Invisibility?

~ Natalie Hart ~ 3 Comments

I’ve been avoiding writing about this book (Calling Invisible Women, by Jeanne Ray), but there’s too much in there that hits too close to home. Clover is a fiftysomething mother of two (1 college student, 1 recent college graduate), married to a crazy-busy pediatrician, a dog owner, and writer of a gardening column for the local newspaper. She has one little brief blip of invisibility before becoming completely invisible: voice still there, body still there, but she cannot be seen. Her family doesn’t notice. For several weeks. As long as she does all her regular tasks (including sex with her husband), they don’t know anything is seriously amiss.

I picked up the novel in the library because of the cover and title, read the blurb and put it back. “No,” I thought, “that’s way too depressing to be as funny as the blurb implies.” I walked two steps away, pivoted, and picked it up again. Read the first line: “I first noticed I was missing on a Thursday.” Loved the off-hand tone of it, so I gritted my teeth and got it. I was going to read it like it was medicine.

And it was. The book is truly funny and the tone is comic throughout, yet I was on the verge of tears, if not actually crying, almost the entire time. Luckily, it’s a fairly short book (246 pages), and a fast read, so it wasn’t a terribly long time. But still.

The best parts of the book were when we meet the other invisible women and go along as they discover how to use their invisibility like a superpower. An ex-teacher goes to school on the bus (naked, so nobody can tell there’s a person there), whispering in the ears of bullies as their conscience, making sure shunned kids have a place to sit in the lunch room, interrupting cheaters, and generally making life at school better, fairer. Another slips off her clothes in the middle of a bank robbery and foils it. They hold naked meetings so they don’t have to pay for the hotel conference room. They learn how this happened to them (there is a physical reason, it isn’t magic), band together, confront the problem, and achieve a pretty good level of victory.

But Clover’s interactions with her family and the world at large made me so sad. Even a little panicky. I’ve got tears pressuring behind my eyes right now just thinking about it. As long as she’s wearing clothes, the vast majority of people don’t notice that the clothes are floating in midair. Even her doctor responds to her statement, “I am invisible,” with a bland, “We get a lot of that in here,” not even looking up at her from her chart as he talks. The only one who notices and didn’t know other invisible women first, was her best friend.

This is a nightmare that is too easy for me to imagine being real. The first time it happens, Clover panics and wakes up her son to ask whether he sees her. There’s some silly back and forth, including this nugget, “If you feel like I don’t appreciate you, well…it’s because I don’t. I will again, but not until at least ten, okay?” She’s visible by the end of the conversation. Next time, it’s permanent. She didn’t plan on testing her family, but the first time, when she stood in front of her husband as just a nightgown floating in air, and he didn’t notice, but kept up an ordinary conversation, she dismissed it as her own mental illness. And then it becomes a test, a dare.

Aren’t there tons of ways you test the people who love you? If I don’t change the toilet paper roll, how long will it take for someone else to do it? Will anyone notice that I cut/dyed/changed my hair? If I do job X that person Y usually does, will they thank me for it if I don’t mention it? If I don’t plan a night out with the husband, how long before he suggests it? If I don’t hand the camera to someone else and ask to have my picture taken, will anyone notice that there’s little evidence that I’m part of the family? Or that I’m sometimes part of the fun? Maybe it’s just me, but I bet I’m not alone.

What does it mean when they fail the test? It might mean that they don’t love you, but not necessarily. It might mean that they’re wrapped up in their own dramas and anxieties, with some tendency to take you for granted on the side. No matter what, it sucks for you. You feel crappy when they fail. After the first interaction with her husband, Clover cries out, “‘He didn’t notice!’ A pure grief washed through me. It was bigger than the problem at hand” (p.27).

But you also feel kind of crappy when they pass, because you’ve expended time and energy scheming and imagining both scenarios and every one of your interactions is fraught with suspense and expectation. And all the negotiating with yourself to explain every nuance. Clover does this, too: “The next morning when he leaned in and kissed my shoulder, my neck, I started to think about it all another way. Maybe Arthur didn’t see me because he knew me so well and his vision automatically filled in all the things I was, based on the slightest hint of shape or scent. Maybe when you’ve been with someone so long you don’t so much see them as you project them onto things. Arthur could have been making love to my twenty-year-old self, my forty-year-old self…Anyway, this morning, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt” (p.48).

But it’s also kind of irresistible. Another character asks Clover why she doesn’t just tell her family. She admits that it would be better if they knew, “But after awhile it just becomes a point of pride. You start to wonder just how far it can go” (p.151).

Yet it isn’t only pride, it’s also fear. Fear of being unloved. Fear of being unlovable. And hurt. Hurt from all the times your loved ones have failed you in the past. Not to mention humiliation. It’s humiliating to feel like you’re begging for attention. Clover puts this messy soup together this way: “Maybe because we were timid and hurt, having already spend so many years feeling invisible before the truth of the matter kicked in. If we didn’t have the starch to tell our own families that no one could see us, then how could we be ready to tell the world?” (p.157).

Not to mention the mingled guilt and anger in those who’ve been tested. Anger at the person for putting them in that position, but also guilt at being neglectful and clueless. Hurt that the tester didn’t trust them.

It ends pretty well for the characters in the book, and Clover does apologize for testing them, but reading this has convinced me of the stupidity of testing. I’m going to stop it. In fact, I already have stopped it. I changed a door in our kitchen yesterday, and instead of waiting to see who’d notice, I told everyone that I did something big in the kitchen. My daughter wanted to know so she could anticipate it. My son didn’t want me to tell him what, so he could see whether he noticed right away — he did. And I tagged my husband in the Facebook post that had the picture of what I did. When I see that the toilet paper roll needs changing, I’m going to change it. I’m going to open curtains (while teasing my family about really being vampires). When we’re having people over for brunch and I’m busy cooking, I’m going to ask my husband to make the bed instead of wishing that he’d notice that the bed needed making and being hurt when he doesn’t. There’s more, some silly, some deeper, but you get the picture.

And there are more convictions to come because of this book, but I’ll save that for a future post.

 

SYTYCD Performance Finale!

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

Usually, the performance finale is okay with moments of brilliance, because the dancers are all so exhausted. I can’t wait to see whether this one continues the trend or bucks it with more amazing than not.

Each one is dancing 5 times. That sounds crazy. I did that, and more, in shows when I was in my early 20s, but not after having the intense season they’ve had, and having only a few days to learn all these dances. Nuts.

Eliana and Cyrus, paso doble; she’s going to be the matador and him the cape:
That was interesting. The first half was really good, slow and intense, but then when the music got more intense at the end, the slow movements didn’t work anymore. I think that must be because of Cyrus’s lack of traditional ability. The first half, though, their movements matched each other perfectly. He was appropriately macho, and she was strong. Their little footwork section, brief though it was, was crisp and fast. He’s a great partner, totally focused on her, which I love. I’d say this worked more than it didn’t.

 Tiffany and Will Wingfield, jazz by Sonya Tayeh (haven’t seen him as an All-Star yet and I’m way excited. He was amazing in his season, incredibly trained yet able to be free and even funny in his dances; I still remember the James Brown solo he did. He’s in superbaggy clothes, though, which I am shallow enough to admit makes me a little sad. He has the most awesomely powerful thighs. ETA: he’s dancing shirtless, so if his thighs are hidden, we can see his very wide chest and shoulders.):
I LOVE that Sonya choreographed a happy song, joyful and passionate. It was wonderful. Loved the lift when she did the standing split thing and then hooked her top leg over his shoulder and he stood and lifted her. Tiffany could’ve related to him a bit more, but this made me happy.

Eliana and Chehon are going to do a traditional ballet together.
What they did was great, but I forgot that I don’t really like traditional ballet. They gave nothing cool for Chehon to do except one jump. I was a little bored. Their solos are so athletic and we saw none of that here. It was lovely and perfect, but not my favorite style.

Tiffany and Cyrus, lyrical hip hop
Good, but a little too much flailing about from Tiffany and I wasn’t crazy about the song. It all seemed a little too histrionic. But, indeed, they weren’t being “careful,” and that’s a good thing, too.

Group routine, choreographed by Tyce. I get the idea, have everyone do mainly what they are best at, but that meant that there was no point of view. So it felt like leftovers: lots of individual things that were good once, but turn kind of bland when mixed up.

Eliana solo: lovely. If they’d gotten the chance to be this expressive in the traditional piece, it would’ve been so much better.

Chehon and Allyson, contemporary by Stacey Tookie:
I loved that. It made me teary. How amazing that there was a “you must leave” dance, not because someone is being a jerk, but to set someone free to follow their dreams. It was glorious. Glorious dancing, glorious portrayal of conflicted emotion. That’s what I’ve been waiting for tonight. His face while he did that final pirouette was heartbreaking. His height in his jumps were amazing, just amazing. His dancing deepens when he dances with strong, strong women (his other best was with Anya two weeks ago).

Eliana and Tiffany, dancing on a pole (which I think Eliana teaches or does in her regular life):
Fun. The ending was great, when Eliana was twirling around the top in a cool pose and Tiffany was twirling around the bottom, but I wish they hadn’t gone for such a full-on sexy song for this routine. To have done it to a classical piece could’ve been even better, less “on the nose.”

Cyrus solo dubstep: the musicality of his style is sick, sick, sick. Sick!

Tiffany solo: a lovely solo (which would’ve been better if she’d waited a couple of years to mature), but I must say that I loved her interview piece, how she was aware of how underrated she was and she kept putting everything out there on the floor, throwing herself into routines. I respect that.

Cyrus and Chehon, chor. by Sonya Tayeh:
Gorgeous. There were all those tiny, quick movements that went with the music like Cyrus does, that both of them did in great unison. And Cyrus did a lovely, graceful fall to the side. Chehon lifted Cyrus as easily as if he were little Tiffany. They were marvelous together, fighting, but not against each other, which was perfect for them. Compelling dancing. I loved these two guys, and I loved this number.

Special guest: an international b-boy sensation … Jean Suq (sp?) who has one leg and dances with two crutches. First of all, I’m crazy about hip hop to classical music. Second, the stuff this kid does is amazing: using the crutches as a pommel horse and swinging his whole body around, doing gorgeous poses on one, and in general, dancing beautifully. I love the variety that this show reveals, the things that are going on in the dance world that are truly excellent, but that I’d never seen or even heard of before.

Chehon solo: I didn’t want it to end, but I loved how it went with his interview package (which made me teary, he was so adorable), all his leaps were open and soaring.

Eliana and Alex, contemporary by All-Star Travis Wall:
Travis usually choreographs such intimate dances, and that’s what I love about him, but this was a bit bombastic and histrionic. That said, what they did together was gorgeous.

This is feeling a little too much like a good-bye show, as if the show won’t be back next year. There are more comments about choreographers and All-Stars. I’d be so sad. So very, very sad. I hope I’m overinterpreting the vibe.

Tiffany and Chehon, rhumba by All-Star Dmitri (no, not another Latin dance, and as the last one he does, too. Boo, producers. Boo. Unless of course he winds up being brilliant and lets his hips go. Please let your hips go, Chehon.):
I am happy. It was a deeply romantic dance, slow and sweet and sexy. I got a little warm. His dramatic slide all the way across the floor was awesome. He is so great at not doing the overblown, “I am being manly now” thing. He just is strong and secure and always perfectly there for his partner. Tiffany was marvelous. She has really grown on me.

Cyrus and Twitch, both doing animation:
Wow. Wow. The slow-motion fight as if strobe lights were flashing was so cool. That was all just so cool. Love that they put Twitch on Cyrus’s home dance turf. And they had to dance on top of broken plastic after smashing through their doors. Why did Nigel have to go through that crap of saying he wasn’t voting for him — unnecessary.

This was a better show than some finales have been. I’m off to vote for Chehon.

 

 

SYTYCD Top 6

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

My head is spinning with flora and fauna of the Bible, habitats of animals and which ones the Israelites could eat and how they might kill or trap them and where to find water and which wild plants can provide food or shelter or protection. So I’m happily putting 1,000 BCE to rest for the night to revel in some great dancing. There will be tons of dancing! Each contestant is dancing three times: one solo, once with a fellow contestant, and once with an all star. AND Christina Applegate is the guest judge. I love the stuff she says, it’s always very real and demonstrates that she actually knows stuff about dance.

Group number: I hate the strobe light effect with a burning passion. I can’t see the dancers because my main desire is to protect my eyes. They really should stop it. That said, they put Chehon and Eliana in the front and I didn’t want to watch anyone else.

Tiffany and Benji (season 2 winner, the first season I watched the whole thing, I loved him!), swing:
This is the first number of hers that I’ve loved! The choreographer let her be cute and energetic and that was perfection. And how amazing was is to see Benji dance again! The energy of this number was out of this world and relenting and they never let up. It was awesome. I wish I could’ve seen it live.

Witney solo: she’s doing a paso doble by herself, a lot of posing and walking. Meh.

Cole and Melanie (Sonya Tayeh jazz): nice, they’re not going to make Cole do another version of creepy
It was very good, but Melanie doesn’t really do vulnerable, which made it not quite connect for me. It was interesting that Melanie did so much lifting of Cole, which played to Melanie’s strengths. Cole was really good, but I wouldn’t have gotten the emotional content if they hadn’t talked about what it was supposed to be about.

Chehon solo: I always love them. I even watched his mother’s message to/about him clip passage, just to hear her Swiss accent. (I’m fast-forwarding everyone else’s parental message.)

Eliana and Twitch (I am crazy excited about this. Maybe it’ll match the Twitch/Alex Wong number), Christopher Scott hip hop:
This made me smile the whole time. I love it when Christopher Scott does a number to a Motown song. Although the Sasha Twitch song last year had more impact, this was great. Maybe a little cutesy. Not so much wow dancing. But entertaining.

Tiffany solo: Very good, but I don’t connect with it.

Chehon and Katherine, Tyce doing a serious, emotional number:
Tyce’s choreography can be a little obvious (which is fine for me to do, but I think a pro should be better), but this was marvelous. Chehon’s face was so heartbreaking at times. When he bent double and she stood up on his back, it was so moving. And Chehon didn’t dance super pretty, super lifted like all his training would have him do. When they passed the suitcase to each other, it was gorgeous and sad. The contrast between throwing themselves around and the moments when they stopped was deep. Chehon is becoming what he wanted to when he tried out for the show. Masterful, indeed.

Cole solo: (Okay, I watched a bit of his Mom package because she didn’t have the usual body language; she was great.) Compelling. I didn’t want it to end. He was clearly about to turn into a werewolf. I love it when someone does constant, fast movement to a slow song. This was a perfect example of what he does and I really wanted it to be a whole dance, not just a blip of a solo. Except I could’ve done without the skirt.

Witney and Marco (who I don’t remember at all, now I do, he shaved all his hair off, he was 3rd last season):
Very good. She really knows how to connect to a partner, which is why I think they kept her last week. She was fluid when she needed to be, sharp when she needed to be. I believed the story they were telling. We could tell that she doesn’t have the solo kicks and jumps other girls do, but she was still good.

Christina Applegate is f-ing brilliant. YES, there’s too much hairography on this show — too much hair flipping and in the face and we can’t see half of the performance.

Eliana solo: she was killer on pointe last week, this week merely extremely good.

Cyrus and Comfort, a dub step routine:
That made me want to swear repeatedly. Both Michael and I laughed. We sat with our mouths open. It was sick. It was fast, precise, angular, mathematical, amazing. Dayum! [Christopher Scott should do one routine when he choreographs for the show, because he always done one incredible routine and one that’s just fine.]

Witney and Chehon, cha cha (I admit that I’m nervous, he didn’t do so good with the hip movement in his first Latin dance):
Better than I thought, but I think he does better with women who are a little more mature. I’m a little mad that they gave him another big hip dance so close to the finale — it makes me nervous for next week. But I love Christina Applegate’s commentary.

Cyrus solo: He timed it perfectly. It was a completely number, but I wanted to see more. Love it when people do hip hop to orchestral music. This had emotional content. So great and strong.

Eliana and Cole, Mia Michaels contemporary:
Incredible up until the fake scream at the end. Another fast movement to slow music. Loved this. They were astounding. They matched each other and fought each other completely. Some incredible moments.

Cyrus and Tiffany, Spencer Liff Broadway:
They gave her another dance in which she had to be a young teenager, which she is, and again, she was fantastic. Cyrus was full of personality, as usual, and didn’t highlight his weaknesses. It was fun, they related to each other exactly as they were supposed to. Great routine.

Guest dancers. Way cool duet from the Access Dance Company, one able-bodied dancer, one in a wheelchair. They’ve been on the show before. This number was fascinating, the acrobatic use of the wheelchair and mirroring walking and being in a chair from both of them was stunning.

Who’s going to the finale?
Tiffany and Eliana. After this week, I’m a lot more excited about Tiffany.
Chehon and Cyrus. Inside my head, I’m screaming, YES YES YES YES. I will get to see Chehon and Eliana dance together. If it isn’t epic, I’m going to be mad.

But now I’m confused. Is the voting for the finale based on voting this week? Must be. Weird. That somehow doesn’t feel right. The rest of the season, it’s been odd, but for the very end, it doesn’t seem at all fair.

 

 

How Do You Feel About Sarcasm?

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

In two YA/MG books I’ve read this summer, the female protagonist is sarcastic, both in her own head and with others: Hourglass, by Myra McEntire, and Kepler’s Dream, by Juliet Bell. (Gorgeous covers, both.)

They are very different novels, but Emerson (from Hourglass) and Ella (from Kepler) both use sarcasm as a protective shield. In Emerson’s case, she’s 17, so she self-consciously uses it to keep people distant from her because she sees dead people, spent time in a psych ward, and has secretly gone off her meds — she wants to protect others from her crazy.

Ella has been stuck at what she calls Broken Family Camp with her severe grandmother (who she’s never met) in New Mexico while her mother undergoes a stem cell transplant for leukemia in Seattle. She takes refuge in her sarcastic observations about the people and the place she’s stuck in.

Wisecracking, sarcastic, kick-butt heroines are “in” now. I support the trend to have strong female protagonists, but I wish they didn’t always have to be so sarcastic. Because the thing the character does to keep everyone else at arm’s length or as a sign of her disaffection, keeps me feeling distant from the character I’m supposed to be attaching to. It does to me what it does to everyone else in the story. Being party to the character’s interior talk rarely helps, because they seem so distant from their own emotions. And in the 11-year-old character, it made her seem a little old for her age.

I kept reading both those books, despite feeling an initial disconnect with the point of view characters, and they turned into wonderful stories. Emerson and Ella grew on me as their situations got both better and worse, and as they showed more vulnerability and connected to the people around them. Hourglass is a fast-moving story with loads of tension and strange stuff happening and secrets and paranormal business. Kepler’s Dream is a quieter story, not as flashy and not at all paranormal. But as Ella got to know the people and the landscape at her grandmother’s, the sarcastic names she gave them became more affectionate. At the end of the book, when she slyly clues her grandmother (Violet Von Stern, which is an awesome name) in to the nickname she calls Violet — the GM, for General Major of the Good Grammar Correctional Facility — I got teary, because it was a sign of comfort and security in their relationship, especially when Violet gets the joke on herself.

Another book I read this summer, The Magicians, by Lev Grossman, had multiple characters who were sarcastic and disaffected and kept everyone at a distance, and I could barely finish it. I found almost all the characters unpleasant, distasteful, whiney, bratty, and mean. I have not picked up the sequel, and I won’t. I don’t want to spend any more time with those people.

But it’s an interesting thing to think about as a writer: what do you do when your character’s coping mechanism keeps the reader distant as well? How do you keep them reading until your character starts to mature? Do you show a core of sincerity behind the sarcasm to tide the reader over until the character grows? Some other positive character trait? It brings home to me how difficult sarcasm is, as a voice, to balance. How much is too much?

I tried it, once, in a romance manuscript. I love a wisecracking romance heroine, and I’m pretty snarky in my own head, so I thought I could pull it off, but it didn’t work for me, didn’t sound right. I had to rewrite it with the character generally being more sincere and only very occasionally sarcastic (and even then, the ms. isn’t seeing the light of day). Now that I think of it, there aren’t any sarcastic characters in the first David and Saul manuscript: David is made fun of for being so honest and upright, Saul is sometimes cruel and closed-up and sometimes open, Samuel can be cryptic but with a sense of humor, David’s oldest brother doesn’t hide his meanness. So they certainly aren’t all pleasant, but no sarcastic wisecrackers.

As David matures through the next two books, he won’t be able to remain so honest and upright: he lies to priests, pretends to be crazy, has to figure out how to survive on the run, becomes a mercenary while lying to his host king. He has to learn how to be diplomatic, which is all about maintaining an aura of sincerity while twisting the truth to your purposes. But no sarcasm. I seem to have a problem with it.

How do you respond to a sarcastic main character?

SYTYCD Top 8

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

Back with another So You Think You Can Dance post. We’re at the top 8, getting deep into the serious talent. Here we go.

Group number was cool, the men all in black, dancing a bit minimalist, the women in red with fans, but not just prancing about flipping their hair. I’m getting really tired of all the hair flipping and obscuring the girls’ faces — professional dancers don’t do that. I wish they wouldn’t make the girls do it here.

Solo: Tiffany. Good basic girl dancing on this show, but not memorable.

Witney and Twitch: East Coast Hip Hop
She was so good! Really committed to the sharper, harder movements, and did them way full out. I’m impressed.

Solo: Will. No goofiness! Good for him. Nice work.

Cole and Allison, Sonya Tayek number
LOVED THIS! He plays a soulless character so well, with no sadism-for-fun, just a matter-of-factness that is creepy and scary. Sonya’s choreography was amazing, all the slow movement to sudden fast freezes were awesome, and they killed every bit of it. There was real menace from him and fear from her in this. Cole matched Allison’s intensity, which is saying something. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. This was really so powerful and dramatic.

Solo: Lindsey. She’s really thought out how to make her solo still ballroom, but by herself. Looked good.

Eliana and Ryan, quick step (often the kiss of death on this show)
Her charm in this number was shiny and lovely! The choreographer managed to make a story out of the quick step to give them something other than just steps. Her carriage from the years of ballet transferred well to this formal ballroom hold. The dancing was great, but her charm totally sold it.

Solo: Chehon. I love his solos. He really tries to convey something other than “these are the tricks I can do.” The way he hangs in the air in the middle of his jumps makes me hold my breath. And his spins, his center is crazy. And then he cried because his mother was in the audience all the way from Switzerland.

Lindsey and Alex, jazz to that Gotye song.
Top shelf movement, and I love me some Alex, but their chemistry wasn’t there. There was supposed to be sexual tension, and they made frustrated faces, but I didn’t buy that aspect of it.

Will and Lauren, a Christopher Scott hip hop (which are often some of the best things on this show) in which Will has to be serious
He wasn’t as super-crisp with his lower body as he could’ve been, but he gave an “ordinary guy deeply frustrated” vibe, which was what the piece required. The musicality of the choreography was awesome. He did really well — no goofiness at all.

Solo: Witney. This didn’t do it for me as much as Lindsey’s solo, but she’s definitely hot.

Solo: Cole. Speed, drama, power — a great example of his dance style.

Cyrus and Melanie, jazz
Weird punching moves throughout this number, but cute punching. This one had to be tough for him, because there was a lot of move and pose, so it was so very much slower than his normal style. But his charisma is HUGE, and he papers over a lot of dancing deficits with that. He honestly looks like he’s having fun. He never has one fake moment on stage, and that’s a gift.

Solo: Eliana. She’s never made me cry before, but she did now and with less than 30 seconds of dancing. So deep on those toe shoes.

Chehon and Anya, Argentine tango.
What a different mood for a tango on this show, it was so quietly sexy. So intimate. The come here/go away/now we’re here and let’s be together and abandoned to each other got me a little flushed, to tell you the truth. The flicking leg thing, which usually comes off as aggressive, was so sexy — it looked like they were tangling legs and made me think of … you get the idea. I’m falling for Chehon even more this show.

Solo: Cyrus (I. Can’t. Wait. He is so Sick at what he does.) Loved every millisecond of it.

Tiffany and Ade, contemporary (it better be good to get the pimp spot over that Chehon and Anya number)
The dancing itself was so good, big and impressive and free, and Ade is so strong (with beautiful arms) but to a song about the power of love, there was very little connection between the two of them. I wanted more. I find Tiffany lacking in personality when she dances; I wish she’d waited a couple of years when she developed some gravitas. I obviously disagree with the judges and the voters, but I don’t find her memorable.

People leaving: (I’m SO thrilled Chehon is not in the bottom 2 this week! At this point, that’s what I care the most about.)
Lindsey — first choice I don’t agree with. She’s got more range, both in movement and in emotion than Witney. I would’ve kept her.
Will — I agree with this one. Cole brings more drama and tension to his movement, and he’s more of an emotional chameleon, so there’s more the choreographers can do with him.

I must say how happy I am that the women all had their hair back and I could see their faces this week! Hooray.

This was a really great night of dancing. I’ll be pointing my toes in my sleep. Hopefully, I won’t pretend I’m on the show so hard that I almost fall in Zumba tomorrow, like I did last week.

Samson the P.R. Master

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

So I’ve been reading an amazing book: Tree and Shrub in Our Biblical Heritage, by Nogah Hareuveni (trans. Helen Frenkley). Doesn’t sound amazing to you? Well, it’s the height of perfection for me in my drive to make the David and Saul series as specific and realistic as possible. I’ve finally found the source for trees and plants that David would’ve seen and had available to him for kindling, food, shade, water, etc. It’s full of the kinds of details that bring back the life, the humor in biblical stories that audiences at the time would’ve gotten. Like in this one about Samson, the P.R. master. [ETA: Tree and Shrub gave me the information about the plant and discussed what that meant for the story of Samson and the seven new ropes, but I gave it the imaginative retelling after the starred break below.]

Here’s how we’re going to imagine Samson: Dwayne Johnson, aka The Rock — big, strong, charming. Also, the long hair.

She’s not in my telling of the story much, but if you want to imagine Delilah, let’s say she’s Nicole Scherzinger.
The Israelites, at this time, are ruled by the Philistines. Samson is the Israelites’ Judge, which doesn’t mean he was wise. He just killed lots of Philistines because the Lord gave him immense physical strength. He also goes after women he shouldn’t. Early in his history, he fell in love with a Philistine woman from Timnah (5 miles down the road from where he lived in Mahaneh-dan). On the way to Timnah with his parents to arrange the marriage, he killed a young lion and ripped its jaws apart with his bare hands. On the return trip for the wedding, he saw that bees had nested in the lion’s jaws, scooped out some honey, and ate it.
In Timnah, Samson threw a 7-day pre-wedding party. He told a riddle to 30 young Philistine men. If they solved it, he’d give each of them one plain linen and one fancy robe. This was a big deal. These guys would’ve had one or two plain robes; only the rich would’ve had a fancy robe. “From the one who eats came something to eat; out of the strong came something sweet.” Oh, he was sure of himself, that Samson. Nobody knew about the lion and the honey, not even his parents.
The 30 guys couldn’t figure it out, so they threatened the wife-to-be. She wept and moaned every time she was with Samson until he told her. When the 30 guys answered the riddle he made an unflattering analogy (“if you hadn’t plowed with my heifer, you wouldn’t have figured it out”), went 20 miles to the coastal (Philistine) town of Ashkelon, killed 30 guys there and took their stuff, which he then gave to the 30 guys in Timnah. And then left in a huff without actually marrying the woman although believing she was his wife. See, not wise.
Later, he burned the entire wheat crop of Timnah, killed 1,000 Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey, and hefted up the city gates of Gaza by its two posts to escape the leaders plotting to kill him in the morning after he was through with the prostitute he was “visiting.”
None of that is our story, though. It’s just the set-up.
*************************
Mahaneh-dan (between Zorah and Eshtaol, in the foothills of the Judean mountains), between 1,200 & 1,100 BCE
Samson sauntered over to the window overlooking the front of his house. He could’ve shaken Delilah for trying to put one over on him. Again. But she got gorgeously angry when he acted like it was all a big joke, so that’s what he did.
He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the wall, watching the Philistine leaders and flunkies flee his house, muttering to themselves. He stayed even after they were out of sight.
Delilah came near enough for him to smell her. The late afternoon heat intensified the scent of the olive oil she’d shined herself up with for her performance today. “Are they coming yet?”
“Who?”
She huffed. He didn’t have to look at her to know she was pouting.
And there came the crowd. Mostly men he knew from the village, but not all. They called to him before they reached his gate. “Samson!” “What’s going on?” “What happened?” “What did you do this time?”
Should he make them wait until evening, when everyone was in from the fields and hills? Nah. He flattened his palms on the wall on either side of the window. “I’ve been in my house all day. What could I have done?”
“Don’t play with us,” someone shouted. “Tell us, tell us.”
He shrugged and tried to look innocent.
“Come now.” Elder Raddai stepped forward with the usual scowl on his face. “The Philistines commandeered a dozen of our men yesterday, keeping them out of the fields all day today, and sent them with a dozen on their men on some fool journey to make seven fresh yitran ropes and deliver them here without drying out. They didn’t let our men in and just now ran out of here with their robes in a bunch. Last week the bow strings. Now this. What kind of trouble are you making?”
Delilah snickered. Samson gritted his teeth to keep the smile on his face.
“You mess with them, but we’re the ones who pay.” Raddai shook his finger as if Samson were a little boy.
Some members of the crowd shouted him down, but not enough. Samson stepped to the side and hooked his arm around Delilah’s shoulders and tried to pull her into view, but she twisted away and scooted to the other side of the room.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “They’ll stone me.”
She was right. Better to keep her out of sight. The only reason he got away with her was because they assumed, after he left for two weeks and then returned with her, that he and Delilah were married.
Samson went down the ladder and opened his front door. “I’m not the one creating trouble.” He grinned. “It’s those Philistines. They can’t kill me outright so they keep trying to capture me.”
Some of the men laughed and elbowed each other at that. Samson chuckled with them until they clamored for the story. “We’re all men here, aren’t we?” He made a show of checking the crowd. “Don’t want tender ears hearing this story. So I was enjoying some time with my lady and she asked how to tie me down securely.”
The crash of pottery hitting the wall came from upstairs. Samson cocked one eyebrow. “I thought we were having a little fun, so I told her seven fresh bow strings would do it. Last week, she brings some out and ties me up and we….” He winked and continued. “And then out pop the Philistines to take me away. Obviously, I’m still here.”
“They said he ripped through them like they were nothing,” someone shouted.
Samson shifted his arms away from his body and flexed a bit. “So then yesterday, she’s after me to get tied up again. I knew what she was about this time, so I gave the Philistines such a job. Anyone here want to tell us what they went through? Anyone?”
A hand went up and a young guy was pushed up to the front. “Sorry you got roped into it,” Samson said to him before turning him around to face the crowd.
“The Philistines–” The kid was still young enough that his voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and kept going. “They dragged me and my brother and some others away from the fields yesterday. They were going on about where they could find yitran bushes, but everyone knows they don’t grow around here, so we had to go with them back to their towns, a half day’s walk away. They split us into seven teams, one group for each rope. We slept on the ground by our bushes. They didn’t even let me stop at home to get my cloak, so I got soaked with dew.”
The men muttered about such disrespect before Samson hushed them.
“As soon as there was enough light to work by, we stripped the bark. They were in such a hurry they yelled at us to girdle the plant, but we wouldn’t do it, so that meant running around to several bushes. Then we couldn’t even sit to clean the strips and they wouldn’t give us knives. We had to pick off the twigs and leaves with our thumbnails.”
More outrage from the crowd and Samson clapped his bear paw of a hand on the boy’s shoulder in false solicitude.
“They kept poking us in the back to keep us walking while we folded the strands and rubbed them together while the Philistines twisted them until there was a rope long enough to wrap around my lord, Samson.” The boy sent up a shy glance.
Samson nodded down at him.
The kid relaxed a little more and yelled over the crowd. “They poured more water over the yitran to make sure it didn’t dry out than they gave us to drink!”
“And in this late summer heat.” Samson joined in the scolding of the Philistines.
“Those were really good ropes,” the kid said. “How did you get out of them?”
Samson let a smile build slowly and then snapped his fingers. “Like flax in a flame. Wine all around to celebrate!” He hauled out two jugs and passed them around until the atmosphere was festive. It had worked perfectly. The crazy errand had attracted so much attention, the story would be all over the region in two days, max.

Revisiting the “I Wonders”

~ Natalie Hart ~ 5 Comments

I’ve had the writing blahs. More accurately, the revision blahs. The first book in my planned trilogy (imaginative retelling of the biblical story of David and Saul in young adult novels) is finished. It’s been read by close to a dozen people and is in the hands of a publisher that will hopefully look at it some time this year. That means I move on to the second novel, which is complete in messy draft 1 form.

In late spring, I dutifully read the draft and noted where I needed to “show not tell,” where I needed more information, where I’d gotten the emotional tenor wrong. To the left are 3 of the 8 pages of notes I have — two lines of teeny chicken-scratches per line on the page, not to mention the stuff scribbled in margins, added in post-its, and written on the manuscript pages.

It hasn’t been as bad as pulling teeth. I had 11 of those pulled as a child, one of which had to be broken apart in my mouth and taken out in chunks, at a time when pain management wasn’t as good as it is now (or Australian dentists just thought we needed to be tougher). So revising this ms. hasn’t gone to that level.

But close.

In his book, The War of Art, Steven Pressfield writes about what he calls Resistance (and, yes, it’s always capitalized): whatever it is within you that blocks you from living your fullest life, from doing whatever creative thing you feel the pull to do. The following is from the excerpt that appears on the book’s page on his website:

“Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard or smelled. But it can be felt. It is experienced as a force field emanating from a work-in-potential. It’s a repelling force. It’s negative. Its intention is to shove the creator away, distract him, sap his energy, incapacitate him.

If Resistance wins, the work doesn’t get written.”

I’ve got Resistance bad, in a way I never did for the first book. I called it any number of things over the summer.

1. My usual summer ADD when the kids are home and extra kids are here and I’m ferrying people about to have their fun.
2. The heat. The first half of the summer was so hot it sapped all my drive.
3. Anxiety over the fate of book 1 (aka It Is You) at the publisher, because the submission did not come about in a normal way and they didn’t get it in the format their website says they prefer, but when the president of the company asks for it in his own way, that’s how you send it, and isn’t it good that the president asked for it and apparently read it and apparently sent it along to the young readers section, but I didn’t get the postcard that they typically send saying that they’ve received the manuscript, and does that mean they don’t have it, do I dare be obnoxious enough to send them a letter asking to confirm whether they have it and whether it contains what they need from me, or should I just trust the wheels that have already been set it motion….
4. Health issues, none of which are lastingly serious, but two of which did interrupt my life for a bit (pleurisy and some kind of neck something that had me moving like a robot).

But now the kids are in school, it’s not so hot, and my neck is mostly okay. The anxiety over It Is You is still there, but I’m working on trusting the process, and on recognizing that, publishing being what it is, when a publisher says I’ll hear from them, “very soon,” two months is well within that timeframe. And so I’ve been beating myself into the chair and choking my way through a few notes, which might cover one page. Ninety minutes of work a day, tops. This is the mark of an amateur, not a pro.

Giving myself serious talking-tos helps a bit. Bible reading and prayer helps. Reading inspiring, butt-kicking words from other writers, such as Justine Musk, Steven Pressfield, and Robin LeFever helps, too.

But none of that took hold until today. You know what it was? What got me into this project in the first place: the “I wonders.” The questions about all those details the Bible doesn’t think are interesting enough to include.

Where did David get water from before he settled in the caves at Adullam? Could he devise a dew catcher out of materials available to him? If he passed by Jebus, could he access the Gihon Spring? Would the Jebusites let a random traveler get water there? What is the landscape like from Gibeah to Nob? What kind of vegetation is around there? Would there be any shade for him? Any caves? What would the evening and day temperatures be?

So I’m obsessing again, one question leading to another leading to another leading my to visiting the Calvin College library again. And browsing through the stacks leads me to finds I didn’t search for. Which will lead me to more specificity in the world I write about, which will hopefully lead to a richer reader experience.

This is good. This is beating back Resistance. For now.

If you have any techniques for beating back your Resistance, I’d love to hear about it.

STYTCD Performance Show 4

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

As much as I loved the Olympics (a lot!), I’m even happier that So You Think You Can Dance is back. Readers who enjoy my more wondering or personally embarrassing posts, I’ll catch you next time.

Tonight, they’ll be doing classic Mia Michaels routines. This will be … telling. Because not only will I pay attention to how well they dance the number, but I’ll be comparing them to the original pair. Who might be better and who will fall short. Mia’s body of work on this show is astonishing. I can’t wait.

Guest judges are actual, trained dancers. Shocking! Maybe their comments will be meaningful. For once.

New Mia Michaels’ group routine was interesting. She actually gave five of the girls something interesting to do [she’s said in the past that she prefers choreographing for boys], although two girls got nada but standing around and flinging roses. Cool move with the boys upside down on the rope and both of them swinging around. Ultimately, given that the song had “ball and chain” in the chorus, it was a little too literal to have the girls actually tied down. Also, stop with the actual kissing. It’s distracting.

Cyrus and Eliana (from the teaser, I think they’re doing “Mercy,” one of my favorite numbers, originally killed by Twitch and Katie)
Very interesting. Cyrus isn’t as good a dancer as Twitch was, but he’s got the body language of this role down cold. I believe that he has nothing but contempt for this woman. That twitchy body roll on the door was incredible! And then again on a pause — nice touch! Nice switch from how Twitch did it. Katie had a manic energy that I loved more than Eliana’s performance. The star of this one for me was Cyrus.

Tiffany and George (Oh dear, they’re doing a Katie and Joshua number. They were the best pairing ever on this show.) (I’m with George on one of his favorite SYTYCD moments: Wade Robson’s Ram-a-lam-a zombie number gave me goosebumps.) (Oh dear, this is one of the best dances ever done on the show. I’m nervous for them.)
Again, I liked George in this, but prefer Katie’s dancing. Because George isn’t as buff as Joshua, he came off as more vulnerable. Which really worked for this number. Ooh was that first guest guy right: there were two solos, they were not dancing truly together. The assisted run was meh, whereas when Katie and Joshua did it, it took my breath away. Tiffany was *dancing* it, Katie made me believe she was living it.

Here’s the problem with tonight: nothing can be a revelation. I can never let myself go into any of these numbers because I’m always comparing. That’s a disservice to these dancers. I’m glad they get to do such top-notch choreography, but I’m finding the experience of watching it a bit of a downer.

Amelia and Will (No idea what number they’re doing. I don’t remember those costumes. Oh yeah, “the butt dance.” Still don’t remember it.)
They gave the quirky dance to the quirky people, which is too much competing quirk. This didn’t do it for me. At all. I don’t remember it from the original season, either. Meh.

Janelle and Darian (ah, the bed routine, originally Kherington and Twitch)
Finally! This one was better than the original! Darian really danced. I remember Twitch flailing and bouncing, but this was heart-rending dancing. And Janelle was wonderful, so emotional. Mia didn’t give her much to do, but she really performed it. Kherington had the inappropriate smiling problem, but these two presented a real story and I felt their heartbreak.

Audrey and Matthew (the piece about Mia losing her father.)
It was nice. The original was a weepfest, but this was sweet. Which is the damning with faint praise that it sounds like it is.

Witney and Chehon (Travis and Heidi’s bench number)
I loved their version. Witney was so tender, so much more tender and hopeful than Heidi had been. They were marvelous together. The dancing was excellent, but what’s special about them is that they manage to be a real partnership, really focused on each other and the story the whole time.

Lindsay and Cole (Addiction number. I think these two can do it. Cole will not have any difficulty being strong and sharp. )
It was interesting. There were moments, there were great moments. Cole looked more like a junkie and less in control of Lindsay than in the previous version, but that really worked sometimes. Cole wasn’t evil-looking and sinister like Kupono was, but he was completely emotionally divorced from her, which ended up working. Lindsay was wonderful. She managed to not be “pretty,” although I wish they’d put her hair partially back; I really wanted to see her face more than I did.

Losing 4 people tonight.

I hope the girls going will be Janelle and Amelia, both of whom are great when they do their own stuff, but can seriously lack charisma in other stuff. Lindsay has been really great two weeks in a row, and seems a lot more versatile than the other two. Also, it’d be a shame to lose those long, long, gorgeous legs.

I think they’ll keep George, as he’s more interesting than the other two. Darian killed his solo, but he has that problem with the lines of his feet they’re always bringing up. And Matthew is pretty, but lacking charisma and connection in anything but his own style. And Matthew’s solo was oddly feminine, with tons of sticking his leg up into the splits and flailing around.

I’m right on Lindsay. Right on George. It’ll be a fantastic top 10. A truly interesting group to watch. Will they be bringing back the All Stars? I hope so. That worked well last year, and bumped up everyone’s game. Yay! All Stars next week. This is going to be gooood.

My Minor “McKayla Maroney Is Not Impressed” Moment

~ Natalie Hart ~ Leave a comment

I admit it. I enjoy the current meme of putting this image of McKayla Maroney on other photos. I wasn’t all that impressed with George Michael last night, either.

But I also have sympathy for her. Here she is, at the moment she expected to triumph, and that everyone else expected her to triumph, to cement herself as the best vaulter in women’s gymnastics, accepting second best. Of course, second best is pretty darn good. But still, it wasn’t how her story was supposed to end (words that always get us into trouble). And the only one she could be upset with was herself. She was the one who messed up. She’s only 16. It’s the rare teenager who could put a genuine smile on his or her face in that situation.

I was not a rare teenager, either. I was 14. It was at the end of my session at Circle Square Ranch, a Christian horse riding camp in Ontario. I’d spent most of the week in the mildest of romances with a boy — we sat next to each other whenever possible, maneuvered ourselves to be in the same groups, held sweaty little hands now and then. The only thing I remember about him, other than straight brown hair (think early Justin Bieber), was that at one of the evening chapels he sang the theme song of “M*A*S*H,” but changed to lyrics to be Christian in some way. My young heart pounded with love and admiration (now, it’d get an eye-roll).

Mild though the romance may have been, it was recognized and acknowledged by our fellow campers. It was a similar relationship to that of my 3rd grade boyfriend, who I broke up with when he kissed me on the stairs in front of everybody. This camp boy never tried to kiss me, although I may not have minded so much by then.

Circle Square Ranch had what I’m sure they thought of as a charming tradition, an end of the week “formal” dinner. It was required that boys and girls went as dates to this dinner. It was required that boys ask the girls and the girl must say “yes” to the first boy who requested her hand. You may sense where this is going. The right boy got to me five minutes too late. Other kids gasped when they heard about it, so I wasn’t the only one who thought this was a massive disappointment, a violation of how things should’ve gone.

Am I sounding too dramatic? Think back to when you were 14.

But it gets worse. The camp was shooting a promotional video of the dinner. I must’ve stayed for two weeks, because the next week, as a great treat, we got to watch the video. Seeing myself on film has always been galvanizing — the following August, on a family camping trip, my dad brought his newest gadget. He filmed me walking on the beach, from the side, with those grew-tall-too-early rounded shoulders, which I was able to see made me look heavier and depressed. You can thank this experience for my excellent posture.

Lessons learned from the camp video:

1. Do not hunch over my food.
2. Pouting like that only looks good on kids 3 and under.
3. Do not put so much mashed potato in my mouth at one time.
4. To be on the safe side, never allow a photo or video to be taken of me while eating.
5. I was choosing to be miserable — I could easily have chosen to have a fine time with the people at my table.

For the most part, I’ve managed to live by those lessons. This experience may even have been the beginning of my feminist leanings, because, really, the whole only-boys-may-ask-girls-who-must-say-yes was patriarchal and ridiculous, not to mention unnecessary at camp.

So thank you, Circle Square Ranch, for teaching me so many important things, although it was none of the things you intended. Also, just so they feel better, I still remember the memory verse: “And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature and in favour with God and man.” Which I would now change to “in favor with God and with people.” Forget about making them feel better.