The Cast of 2015

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This is a moment I always enjoy: the moment at the end of the year when I get to look back, sometimes happily, sometimes with a bit of annoyance, at what I've read over the past twelve months.  It's a fun tradition that requires little brain power and no originality, and as Jenny reminded me of it by posting her 2015 book list, I decided to follow her lead in topic and style and roll out the (eclectic) literary cast of 2015.  Hope you don't get bored by the histories.

2015 book list

january

The Moon Spinners [Mary Stewart] - My first read of the year, this one had gorgeous prose on the one hand and a not-so-compelling story-line and romance on the other.  Light, inspiring when it came to description, but ultimately a bit frustrating.

To Change the World [James Davison Hunter] - A compelling, thought-provoking, dense work, one which probably needs to be read more than once to be "gotten."  Hunter's call for "faithful presence" and a Christian challenge to the world via "a bursting out of new creation from within it" is worth reading, considering, and realizing.

february

The First Crusade [T. Asbridge] - Read for a course on the Crusades I took in the spring.  Light and accessible, but heavy on the adjectives and adverbs (history can be interesting without reliance on these grammatical tools! really! it can!) and lacking, in my opinion, a good balance of historical empathy and moral discernment.

They Found Him Dead [G. Heyer] - I don't think I'll be reading any more of Heyer's mysteries - or if I do, it will only be when I really need something light, quick, and mindless.  Characters, prose, and resolution here were all pretty unremarkable; Agatha Christie has more challenging, satisfying mysteries, however cliche that opinion may be.

march

Much Obliged, Jeeves [P.G. Wodehouse] - Needs no commentary.  And honestly, I can never remember what happened in a given Jeeves & Wooster novel; they're all much alike, but make for fun occasional reading.

The Fourth Crusade [D. Queller & T. Madden] - Also for the Crusades course!  This one was at the opposite extreme from The First Crusade: good on analysis, a bit weak on drama.  Seriously, the crusaders breach the walls and all the authors say is that we know these particular people died.  Really? Where's the blood and gore, people?

april

Around the World in Eight Days [J. Verne] - Where is the hot air balloon?  I specifically signed on for a hot air balloon.

The Crusades Through Arab Eyes [A. Maalouf] - For some reason I didn't put this on my Goodreads account; I think I must not have wanted to rate it.  At any rate, while I do think it is excellent to have works that portray the Crusades from the perspective of the Arabs (the Frankish perspective gets most of the limelight), I remember finding this attempt problematic - to say the least.

may

The Great Plague [Moote & Moote] - Doesn't Moote & Moote sound like a law-firm out a Dickens novel?  Anyway, this was the assigned reading in the three-week course I took this past May on "Plague! In the 1660s," and it was excellent.  Cheerful?  No.  Surprisingly compelling and even inspiring?  Yes.

june

Jamaica Inn [D. du Maurier] - du Maurier, why did you let me down?  Your prose was beautiful as always, your depiction of Cornwall haunting and bleak - and then I got to the end and wanted to bean the characters with my life science book.  Go. To. Your. Rooms.

The Perfect Prince [A. Wroe] - I don't even know what to do with this one.  It began so intriguingly, with such attention to detail - even the detail of a signature or an illustration; aaaaand then there I was in a bog of information and names and I was alternately confused, bored, and guilty (maybe I should care how much the pews in the church cost? But I don't?).  I don't think I'm building a summer home here.

july

Sir Nigel [A. Conan Doyle] - This book seemed to alternate between romanticism and realism, and I liked the realism better.  Conan Doyle has some compelling descriptions and interesting side characters, but Sir Nigel himself was too ideal for me.

august

American Lion [J. Meacham] - Totally arbitrary read - I don't do much American history - that unfortunately didn't turn out to be a gem.  In fact I complained about the style and the use of sources all the way through.  I think my family wanted me to stop reading.

Faith and Treason [A. Fraser] - Among the top two or three books I read this year (which isn't saying much, because this year saw a lot of 2 star books).  I was going to say it blew me away, but that's kind of a bad pun for a book dealing with the 1605 Gunpowder Plot...  Drama, empathy, argument, a grasp of the sources: it has it all.  Except it was so good that when the conspirators were caught, I was disappointed.  That might not be a good thing.

september

She-Wolves [H. Castor] - Mini-bios of some of England's ruling ladies since the Empress Maud (who, by the way, is the coolest.  Just pointing that out).  Some were more interesting than others, but the prose is burdened (again) with melodrama.

october

The Ghost Map [S. Johnson] - Congratulations!  You win Worst Book of the Year!  The arrogance of it took my breath away, while the commitment to urbanization and the almost callous treatment of individuals left me angry.  

The Prince [Machiavelli] - Read for a course on political thought, this classic work was alternately funny and perplexing.  On the one hand, it seems refreshing after you've been reading Plato, because Machiavelli deals with things as they are in real life; on the other hand, he doesn't concern himself at all with larger moral truths or with how things should be.  Also, I love how he keeps saying Cesare Borgia was the very model of a modern major general...and yet Borgia got sick and failed at everything.  Score one for "Fortune."

For All the Tea in China [S. Rose] - Pretty sure this is the only book my list shares with Jenny's.  A slim read and good for any tea-drinker, if rather in need of some polishing and FOOTNOTES.  Or at least endnotes.  Please.  Please?  No?  Okay, fine.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde [R. L. Stevenson] - I'd been wanting to read this for a while, but despite its atmosphere, I just didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would.  "I consider morals to be an admirable trait of character in a book, but they can be overdone."

november

The Great Influenza [J. Barry] -  Like The Ghost Map, this was read for a course on the history of Western medicine I took this past semester.  Better than The Ghost Map in that it has a far better handle on the sources and a much more nuanced reading of them, it nonetheless could have done with some slimming down.  

december

Great Expectations [C. Dickens] - Finished this one before Christmas.  It wasn't actually my favorite Dickens of the ones I've read thus far; the ending was...too happy.  I would have liked some more bitter in that "bittersweet."  Oops.

In Defense of History [R. Evans] - My advisor got me this for my birthday back in January, while I was taking a course on historiography, and I just finished it yesterday (no, I haven't been reading it all year).  It's both solid on its philosophy of history and funny in its treatment of other historians or historical controversies.  A gem with which to finish out the year.

what did you read this year?  was it a good year by the numbers, or did you find some new favorites?  neither? both?

A Close of Summer Update

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"I've missed your posts in the blogosphere!"

Several people have recently, or semi-recently, brought up the lack of posts on Scribbles.  You know, seven months' worth of no posts.  Here at the end of summer, though, I thought I would write an update - and give you all some snippets of Wordcrafter.

Although I finished with the spring semester back in early May and completed a stand-alone, three-week class in early June, the last few months have still been taken up almost entirely with academic stuff.  I've been spending the summer working on a research project with one of my history professors, the goal of which is to produce a "sourcebook" of original documents from the English civil war period [Suzannah: think this Crusades reader, but probably not as big].  The specific subject?  Popular works, especially cheap eight-page pamphlets, that deal with witchcraft, comets, apparitions, monsters, and other such supernatural "prodigies."  Oh, it's very cheerful.  In fact I have really enjoyed myself - except while reading the accounts of witch-trials, which are universally depressing.

Since we made substantial headway in June and July, the work has let up a bit in the past couple of weeks as we approach the beginning of the fall semester.  In a vain attempt to fill up the excess time on my hands, I've been digging in, sometimes with relish and most times with a grim will, to that continued project that is the rewrite of Wordcrafter.  I'm not precisely sure where I was in the story at the end of the school year, but I think I've added about 20,000 words since May: not a whole lot for a story that promises to be another large one, but not too shabby, either.  We're departing faster and faster from the course of the original story, and I believe the scene I'm working on now is something of a watershed, after which the territory will be almost entirely new.  Thus, although I originally thought I could get along fine with just the structure of the first draft(s) in my head, I'm now beginning to think it would be wise to actually construct an outline.  (I write outlines for a three-page reflection essay.  I am not a pantser, people.  Outlines are gold.)

august snippets

Her clothing was rich, the nose- and mouth-covering heavy with embroidery and a layer of gold mesh, three medallions hanging from her turban across her forehead: even I, who had little acquaintance with Tera and none at all with the Gypsies, had no difficulty recognizing high rank. But my eye was drawn chiefly to her right hand and the weapon in it, for I had never yet seen a firearm here in Ethan’s world. It was no automatic; flintlock was more like it, the barrel and handle cased in wood, the hammer under her thumb fashioned, I thought, like a dragon. She had its twin buckled to her left hip, almost lost in her clothes, and it took me a moment to reconcile myself to the oddity. 

“I thought you were dead,” I said rudely. 

// 

 ...I was too bleary-headed to pay much attention to details, but as we came down the hill between the towering pagan stones I was conscious, almost as keenly as in that moment when I came through the shack, of a change in the world around me. It was as though I had physically passed out of the Tera I had come to know, the Tera of the Horsemen and the villa and a Mediterranean summer, and come instead into the setting of a Grimm’s fairytale. 

// 

“Well, I call that fine!” Ash cried warmly, pounding me on the back in momentary forgetfulness of my crime. “You’re not much of a fighter, but sure and you can take a hit!” 

// 

Funny how black the night seemed, here where there were no electric lights. Silent, too: my mind strained unconsciously for the sound of a car, of a train out in the distance, of voices or music on a radio, but there was nothing. Here on the threshold of the villa the world fanned out from us in layers of darkness, and it was as imperturbable and unnerving as the ocean on a night with no moon. 

 // 

When we ducked in Threshing Floor had just backed into Sure Repulse, a big red creature with a hell of a temper, and the boys were hurrying en masse to put down the fracas. It was mayhem, and I stood against one of the empty stable boxes and squinted around me with a certain amount of smug satisfaction. 

 “I could have stayed in bed a bit longer, apparently,” I observed. 

 // 

Her talk was of Marah and Our Good Fortune, of hunts here at the waning of the summer and of legends of great hunters from millennia ago who had fought monsters rather than deer and boar: easy, uncontentious conversation, light as the yellow wine her father had served us. 

// 

“I’d like to think Ash’s big mouth will get him into trouble one day,” he said, “but unfortunately he’s the sort of fellow who always manages to dodge trouble by the skin of his teeth."

Newsflash: You Can Honor God in a Non-Christian Setting

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This blog doesn't deal a whole lot with the specifics of my college experience, despite the fact that college now takes up most of my time and mental energy.  Apart from general updates on required literature and the beginnings and ends of semesters, I think the most I've said is that a) I'm going to college (!) and b) I'm pursuing a degree in History.  A few of you - mostly those of you who happen to be friends with me on Facebook - may also be aware that, when I decided more or less at the eleventh hour to attend college, I chose a liberal arts school.  "Liberal" in a double sense: politically and ideologically.  It's local, negating the need to live on campus, and it has a great academic reputation. 

I'll be the first to admit that I was not exactly peachy-keen about the whole notion: for this sheltered pygmy person who never traveled from her fire, the university had an outsized reputation for being A Place Where People Go to Apostatize.  Like many universities, this one was originally founded by a Christian denomination but has since made haste to distance itself from that heritage.  I'm not saying I actually thought they burned crosses on the manicured lawns or anything (way too much extra work for the gardeners); I'm just saying I was leery of spending four years listening to relativism, the liberal agenda, and whatever else these unknown professors might take it into their heads to teach.

Let's admit it: I was scared.

I think many people are when it comes to making decisions like these (I'm focusing on choices of colleges, since that's the only one I've really had to wrestle with).  Especially for those of us who were or have been homeschooled, it is undeniably daunting to consider going out into the world for further education; even if we've been taught about different worldviews, it isn't the same as hearing arguments straight from the horse's mouth.  It isn't the same as having to read or watch unpleasantness firsthand (and not experience it through someone else's tidy little review).  I think we're afraid we might be convinced by the arguments, or corrupted by the wickedness.  The world is a scary place!  The Devil roves about like a roaring lion and might devour us at any moment!  And springing from and reinforcing this fear is the belief that to properly honor God and protect ourselves, we're better off either not going to college or going to one with a Christian creed. 

I don't believe this is biblical in the least.  While I think it is always good to be conscious that we and the world are fundamentally at odds, I don't think my fear was biblical.  After all, as Paul admonished Timothy, we've been given a spirit not of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind.  We are encouraged, not to withdraw from the world in terror at the thought of being beaten by it, but to go out into it with boldness as a witness to the power and grace and presence of God.  One of the needful things of which the Reformers reminded us is that the divide between the "sacred" and the "secular" is completely artificial and uncalled for; and yet we continually return to it, cloistering ourselves because, I believe, we fear the world.  This is a tacit rejection of our mandate as believers to be salt and light and to powerfully permeate the world, bearing witness to our God ("who is a God like unto our God?") in the midst of the nations.

My use of "non-Christian" in the title is a little disingenuous, for I do not believe there is, or should be, a divide between the Christian and secular spheres.  What I mean to say is that we can honor God in all settings - not necessarily by sharing the Gospel, per se, but by our faithful presence.  Take college again as the case in point.  I believe we have this notion that if we do attend a mainstream college - for example, my liberal arts university - then to be really honoring to God we need to engage in a rousing debate with our godless professors and convince them that We Are Right.  You know, like those super long Pinterest quote-pins where by the time you get to the end, the student has effectively convinced everyone, including the formerly-atheist professor, of the existence of God. 

...I'll tell you straight up, I feel wholly unprepared to do any such thing.  But I do know that I can bear witness to the glory of my God every day without (necessarily) having to engage specifically in debate.

1. With a solid work ethic.

Just by taking our education seriously and applying ourselves to it, we can stand out.  We of all people should never be halfhearted in our endeavors.

2. With a polite, respectful demeanor.

We don't need to be obsequious in order to show professors, even the ones who don't thrill us, that we appreciate their efforts and respect their learning.  (And for the ones who we simply can't bring ourselves to appreciate or respect, we maintain our dignity, do what is required of us, and avoid as much as possible.)

3. With a cheerful, can-do attitude.

This is the subject of my June post, The Most Beautiful Curve.  Of course we all have off days, but we should strive to not make those our regular days.

4. With the ability to choose our fights wisely.

We do not have to raise a storm about everything.  Sometimes we are required to listen to or watch things that we disagree with or even that make us uncomfortable (Katie wrote a great comment about this, but it was on Facebook months ago and I can't find it anymore, so you will simply have to imagine it.).  But sometimes, when push comes to shove, we can say no.  Not loudly; not with a grand monologue; just politely informing the person that we have boundaries.  This is not about being a Good Christian; it may just be about having some personal dignity.

5. With a willingness to listen and learn.

Too often we are so wrapped up in mentally preparing a snappy response that we don't actually listen to what the other party is saying: possibly we're afraid to.  Yes, much of what we hear will be badly mistaken.  But there is also much that we can glean, much that can convict us, much that can challenge us, much that can encourage us.  We must be willing to grow, and even to alter our opinions.

6. With a growing knowledge of what we believe.

We never just fling open our minds and accept everything: we must have a well-reasoned foundation to build upon.

7. With the ability to give an answer for the hope that is within us, when an appropriate moment comes.

...with meekness and fear and a good conscience.

I'm not saying we can't go to a college that seeks to structure itself around Christian values or doctrine.  I am saying only that we should never do so out of fear of the alternative.  We honor God through our conduct in all settings - not by shunning contact with the world or following any prescribed path.

The Most Beautiful Curve

smile!

I'm not an outgoing kind of person.  My first day of college, back at the start of the Fall semester, was agony: I had no idea what I was doing, I didn't know anyone, and I have that very British problem of not being willing to ever admit my ignorance.  I will continue walking in the wrong direction just so others won't know I'm lost.  Being obliged to speak to people - especially to my peers - has always been nerve-wracking for me.

This is still the case, but to a lesser degree.  Through a combination of "the college experience" and simply growing up, I have begun to realize that one can - and must - learn to be shy without being rude.  I mentioned in my last post that ours is a very rude generation; I can't tell you the times I've tried to strike up a conversation with a fellow classmate, only to have them give a monosyllabic answer before returning to the oh-so-fascinating world of the iPhone screen.  Of course, those of us who are less tech-savvy can scoff at these people and pretend that because we are engaged in reading an educational book rather than scrolling through Facebook, we're not being rude - we're just introverted.

but we should never let a label become our excuse.

The naked fact of the matter is that, whether we classify ourselves as an extrovert or an introvert, we must make room for the human interaction required by our daily lives.  Maybe this isn't on a university campus: maybe it's at Wal-mart, or church, or at the fast-food drive-through.  Sure, you can go through life in your own impenetrable bubble, never acknowledging unless obliged, never learning to make small talk ("bit the bowl off the spoon!"); but on a wholly pragmatic level, people do not like the self-absorbed.  Even if they're self-absorbed themselves and totally unaware of it, they will still observe it in others - and let me tell you, it's very off-putting.

In addition to the pragmatic winning-friends-and-influencing-people argument, however, it seems to me that our profession of faith demands that we look outside of ourselves to consider the good of others.  Now, I'm not talking about handing out tracts and evangelizing people: I'm just talking about how our attitude toward life and toward those we meet reflects on our Christianity.  Of all people in the world, we should be the most joyful, the most enthusiastic, the most willing to uplift others simply by acknowledging them as human beings like ourselves.  "Someone will say, 'You have faith, I have deeds.  Show me your faith without your deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds.'" 

Far too often we are a whiny, negative people, filling up our social media with complaints about being sick (bet someone else is, too) or having a headache (maybe we shouldn't be on the computer...?) or not wanting to take this exam (does anyone?).  And then we do the same in real life.  (Because when someone asks how you are that day, chances are they are not requesting the low-down on your entire week.)  But in reality this doesn't make us feel better and certainly doesn't uplift anyone around us: it just creates an impression of us as an Eeyore, and no one really wants to be chummy with an Eeyore. 

rather, let our speech always be with grace, seasoned as it were with salt, that we may know how we ought to answer each one.

This morning Rachel Heffington posted a link to an article on how to make small talk with strangers, and I thought it spot-on in that, while it does not claim that by chatting it up with random folk you will win ultimate happiness, it does point out that you feel better if you engage with the world around you.  So let us lay aside this label of "introvert" that so frequently besets us, and learn to be a light in a gloomy world.

Learn tact.

Dress with respect for yourself and others.

Look for things to comment on positively.

Be enthusiastic if at all possible.

Appreciate the efforts of others.

Put away your books and your "cellular devices" when with others.

Smile (even if you don't feel you have a very nice one). 

So let us lay aside this label of "introvert" that so frequently besets us, and learn to be a light in a gloomy world.

'twere well it were done quickly

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"You noticed that I said I was going to put this project through tomorrow, and no doubt you wondered why I said tomorrow. Why did I, Jeeves?" 

"Because you feel that if it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly, sir?" 

"Partly, Jeeves, but not altogether."

- right ho, jeeves (p.g. wodehouse)

When I sat down to (finally) write a blog post, my ideas for a topic were mixed up and convoluted: I thought of doing a post on historical research and historical story-telling (a subject which has come up several times recently); I thought of doing one semi-related to a book I am working my slow way through, The Divine Challenge; I considered doing one on Wordcrafter.  I still intend to do all of those at some point, but it came to my mind that having been away from Scribbles for a month (more, really, if you consider that my last post was in fact by the inimitable Elisabeth Grace Foley), it might be well to lead into all that jazz with an update. Jenny did one of her own this morning, which you should also read, because her news is rather more ground-breaking than mine.

university

Early this month I sent in the last essay of my freshman year, so now I'm in a kind of upperclassman-limbo as I wait for the beginning of Fall semester sometime in late August.  The 2013 Fall semester seems ages ago, and yet at the same time, I can hardly believe a whole year has gone by since I crawled, terrified, into my first college class.  I fully recognize that college is not for everyone, but for my own part, I'm enjoying it immensely.  It is teaching me a great deal besides the rudiments of string theory and the identifying marks of a mature landscape; it's teaching me how to work with and around my natural shyness, to be more outgoing and friendly, to - get this - interact with people.  Social awkwardness is stereotypically a trait of homeschoolers (though I'm beginning to think it's actually a trait of Millennials as an entire generation), so I try very hard to defy expectations in the hopes that, when it does at last come out that no, I didn't attend any of the local high schools, the asker will be impressed.  I may sit in my car alone and eat the food that I brought, but I do not wear pyjamas to class, thank you so much.  You're welcome, Blimey Cow.

But more on that later, I think.

reading

I am currently in the home stretch of a Maymester on Elizabeth I of England and Philip II of Spain, which, ironically, has meant that I've had to put With the Heart of a King: Elizabeth I of England, Philip II of Spain, and the Fight for a Nation's Soul and Crown on hold.  Instead, I have been puffing through a book on Philip's grand strategy (which may have been grand, but was certainly not effective in the end).  It's quite a doorstop, but thankfully the last hundred pages or so are taken up by endnotes.

On a personal level, I've been working away at John Byl's helpful The Divine Challenge in ridiculously small increments.  Also, I meant to read something serious after Miss Buncle's Book, but then the Maymester happened and I turned instead to that wonderful fellow Wodehouse.  Very Good, Jeeves! is a cure for just about every kind of ill under the sun.  Can I get an amen?  Eh?

writing

Having written what I think will remain the first chapter of Tempus Regina (it's gone through several versions already, so don't carve that in stone), I now continue to chip away at Wordcrafter.  I cannot swear to its being any good, but it is at the very least giving me renewed respect for all those who can breezily dash off a novel in first-person: I find it deuced difficult.  It blows my mind how even a good, subjective third-person - that is to say, not omniscient - is immensely wider in scope.  Wodehouse, being comedy, is not overly helpful in this regard; I should reread Rebecca, but I went and loaned my copy to Jenny for Lamblight inspiration, so never mind that.

It is also strange to go back over old territory and, in effect, make it new.  I don't think the characters - particularly Justin, Ethan, and Jamie - are fundamentally different; they are their own people, so I think they are essentially the same as they have always been.  On the other hand, I am approaching this rewrite with a fuller knowledge of the story and thus of the characters, and, again, writing solely from Justin's perspective alters the playing field.  Additionally, more characters have been introduced and more ideas are forming, so nothing is quite the same.  The plan, though, is for it to be better, so hopefully those of you who have read the original will like the revision more (assuming I finish the blasted thing).

She did not look like Fairbairn, but she had something of his enormous personality. Pricked by a sudden thought, I asked, “You’re not stalking me for your father, are you?” 
 “Oh, no,” she said, deadpan. “For MI-6.” 

- wordcrafter

Despite the difficulties this new venture presents, I am, for the moment, enjoying myself.  After all, there's generally inspiration to be got from Pinterest, and Fleetwood Mac has been most helpful.  Nothing more is necessary.

The Old College Try

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I know I've been doing an absolutely despicable job at this whole blogging thing.  I don't think it's all college: I could probably eke out time to write if I applied enough willpower to it, and actually had things to write about.  But you see, I haven't been writing much, so there isn't anything to say about that; I don't want to turn the blog over to "the college experience"; and I'm always afraid I'm going to bore people if I simply post updates.  But the latter is what this post, at least, is going to be.  As for future posts - you tell me!  What would you like to read about?  I can't promise I'll be able to comply, but it's good to have ideas and parameters.

In the meantime, since today and tomorrow are my Fall Break, I figured I should put in an appearance in between paragraphs of a response paper on the Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre.

university

I know some of you are more interested in this college business than others.  I also realized the other day that I have never actually said why I'm going to college at all.  Those of you who know my sister, Jenny, know that she opted out: my family doesn't put an overwhelming emphasis on college.  College is a means to an end.  If you have certain goals in mind, it is necessary to jump through the academic hoops; if you have other goals in mind, college is more of a hindrance than a help (and an expensive hindrance, at that!). 

For myself, I'd like a good foundation in history and especially in historical research.  I don't know at this point whether I will turn that toward nonfiction some day, but whether I do or not, the processes are things I feel I need to learn as I progress with my writing.  Of course there are less enjoyable aspects of college to endure, but fortunately I tend toward an academic, nuts-and-bolts sort of mind that can, I think, crank along despite that.  It's overwhelming when I stop and think that I've got four years of this, so I try not to think about it. I've got through the first part of the first semester, at any rate!

reading

"I never let my schooling interfere with my education."  Unfortunately I've got to say that it has a little: my pleasure reading has dropped off sadly.  The last book I finished was The Hounds of the Morrigan, which, although a rather fat fantasy, probably oughtn't to have taken me an entire month (in a perfect world).  But oh well: it was a relaxing, fairly mindless read, most remarkable for its original, often highly absurd cast.  Any author who can make a troop of earwigs or a family of spiders sound cute should get points, I say.

There has been quite a range of required reading in my classes, and some particularly interesting ones in the history course.  Unfortunately the dictates of time and the syllabus make it necessary to move on to the next book before finishing the last one; so, for instance, I've read four-and-a-half chapters out of six in a history of book-making technology, about five chapters in The Ottoman Age of Exploration, and most of The Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre.  The movement is necessary, but does rather give me mental whiplash and makes my reading in general seem fractured.  I don't like not finishing books.  Even if I don't like the book, I like finishing the book.

For lighter reading, I've been picking out Sherlock Holmes short stories and applying myself with greatest earnestness to Knights of the Sea, an account of the battle between the HMS Boxer and the USS Enterprise (hey! that's my ship!) during the War of 1812.  It is interesting, although I wish the author wouldn't define words in the footnotes.  I understand some people don't know what, say, "broadside" means, but I do feel a glossary works better; it feels less as though the author is imparting some great knowledge to a less educated audience.  But again, it's the "lucky little Enterprise"!  I feel a certain pride when I glance through the pages and see all the fights it won, or when I see a portrait and think, "Ah ha!  I know you!"

writing

Well, not writing exactly, but literary efforts in general.  I have been sending out a few queries here and there for Tempus Regina - even gotten a few rejections, hurrah hurrah.  (Also got a rejection on query for The White Sail's Shaking that I submitted five months ago.  Um...thanks?)  As I was telling someone recently, it is a little bit difficult to convey all the disparate elements in a cohesive, if not necessarily sane, way.  So often time-travel is used simply as a ploy, and somehow I have to show that no, wait, I really do know what I'm doing!

At the moment, I am working more on lowering wordcount.  It helps to have several different files, each of a separate draft, so that I know whatever I take out is still there: I can, if need be, add it in again.  In essence, it allows me to feel that the parts I've cut really are there in the overarching story; they just haven't been revealed to the reader.  Like colleges cutting costs (I'm sorry - everything does come back to college in the end, doesn't it?), I'm trying to avoid "sticker shock" by pitching a too-large novel.  Somehow agents don't seem impressed when I protest that for goodness sake, it's not as if it's War and Peace!

the miscellaneous

I want you all to know that I got that word right on only the second try.  That's pretty good for me.  I think to my dying day I will be unable to spell it properly the first time.  That and "mischievous" (took me about three tries).

Fall is just about here, I think.  We're planning on apple-picking today, which is one sure sign; and I got a pumpkin latte from Starbuck's last week, and that's another.  Even on the warmer days, I break out the long sleeves in a kind of defiant protest.  I will enjoy autumn weather, confound it, even if the autumn weather isn't here to enjoy!

My family and I are working slowly toward getting our passports together for a trip to Glasgow over Thanksgiving next month.  Two out of three have arrived, and we are hopeful that, Lord willing, come late-November we'll be standing on Scottish soil and preparing to do some trekking (via car and train: my father raised his eyebrows in true Mr. Bennet fashion at the suggestion of cycling). I am absolutely terrified of the idea of flying, but am very excited at the idea of getting over to Scotland and maybe getting to scoot all the way down to York.  Perhaps see Bosworth Field. Good nerdy stuff like that.

"BRRRRITISH...BICYCLES!"

Things to Do, Places to Go

pinterest

Blog posts have been very scarce around here, I know: five days into August and this is my first one.  For that I apologize.  The brain has been running full steam on Tempus Regina edits, and the idea of then turning my attention to Blogger merely to write something else about Tempus Regina is uninspiring, to say the least.  Don't worry: everyone's questions are safely stored and ready to be hauled out and answered soon.  You've not been forgotten!

In the interim, I thought I would hop onto Mirriam's coattails and chart out my current plans for August.  It looks as though it intends to be an alarming month and I do think it just a little bit cruel of her to so casually fling out there that it is the last month of summer.  I don't like summer for summer's sake: I'll be glad when it shuffles by and I can haul out my fall clothing again.  (Apparently tromping about in boots in July is frowned upon by fashion experts.)  However, in this case I could stand for it to slow down and give me more breathing room.

The motive behind this post is mostly selfish, I admit.  I am going to set out the goals and requirements of August in the hope that, if blog posts are not forthcoming in the following weeks, you will allow me some grace.  For this month, Lord willing I'll...

find out what my fall courses will be

begin my freshman year at college

finish this round of Tempus Regina edits

continue brainstorming for the next project

get Tempus Regina packaged for my beta readers

soldier on with these "driving" shenanigans

determine how soon I can reasonably start wearing long sleeves

begin the business of query-writing

participate in an interview'n'stuff with the notebook sisters

finish reading Plenilune

buy shoes!