Saturday is a Special Day

I never thought I'd enjoy doing laundry as much as I did yesterday, or cleaning my room, but they were both quite welcome reprieves from the rest of the week.

I'd been noticing for the past few days the building wreckage around my room, but was particularly bothered by it yesterday, seeing five empty water bottles scattered around, countless books, both to read and notebooks, my bag askew with school folders, and three pairs of shoes, along with papers from my thesis with comments from my advisor scattered in three different, disheveled piles, and then a pile of potential decorations for the Francelia Butler conference. Though not so in the middle of things, I also had a full moving box of dirty colored clothes (my temporary hamper) and a bulging bag of whites. These bedrooms aren't big. I had to navigate my way to the door to go down to eat breakfast. My mother would be ashamed.

As I look around now, it's not a whole lot better, but I really did straighten up. I refilled all of the water bottles and they're now neatly in the box for the reading lamp I bought, right beside my little desk. Nice organization. I straightened the stacks of thesis papers, though they're still in three locations. At least they look nicer. Nice organization. And the books, well, I finally returned some to the library--maybe that was Friday actually, and then some others back to the shelves downstairs. The rest, including the decoration stuff, shoved perfectly under the bed. And I threw the shoes in the closet--although somehow two of them seem to have walked out again and are scattered around the room again. Hmm. They're with their pairs anyway.

And laundry--so fun to have an excuse to have an excuse to break up the day with trips outside, then to fold the pretty colors and hang them in the closet or stuff into drawers. You know I love colors. Nice organization.

But the best part was baking some zucchini bread--or cake--didn't have a bread pan so I used a flimsy cheap-o cake pan, which was good actually since I had two zucchinis and doubled the recipe. And that was in preparation for a fun picnic with MaryLiz and Dorina and her family. We went up to a little park I didn't know about, on a little hill (I suppose they might call it a mountain here--and it did remind me of home a bit with the evergreens and everything)--with a reservoir. A really cute place, nice and cool, too. Most of the time we were there, it was quiet too--away from the rest of the world. We walked around the reservoir a little--not all the way around, it was pretty big, but around a bend. So peaceful. I wish I'd taken my camera, but I seem to forget it at important times lately.

Like the song goes, Saturday is a special day--not just because it helps get ready for Sunday, though that too, but because it's another day away from the rest of the week.

Love, the Tennis Way, Kind of

I actually don't play tennis. I'm not even sure what love is in the tennis way. Is it when they're tied? or just when they're tied at 2? I don't know. I might look it up later, but that really has little to do with this post. It's about writing again--go figure.

But tennis does relate. Somehow. That is, I heard once that there's a point when someone's learning to play tennis that they progress most by playing with someone just a notch above or equal to their own abilities.

So a few friends were talking in the rat the other day, student lounge, after the President's address, and they were mentioning how they're teaching at university level with only Master's degrees, not PhDs and somehow feel under-qualified. But then I remembered some things I'd been thinking about on my walk earlier that day--kind of in response to a rant in my handwritten journal--about in class critiquing. By being asked to critique each other's writing in class, we're essentially being asked to teach without credentials, aren't we? Unless I'm doing it wrong. But I don't think so. How can you help someone improve without some knowledgeable instruction? Even positive feedback has to have some knowledge behind it, as well as some instruction. Keep this! That's command form.

So why are we asked to do this? Because you sometimes progress when you're just working with your peers--seeing the more limited good things they do rather than being overwhelmed by masterpieces and thinking it's never going to happen in your work. And also because we learn from each other's mistakes. Especially with innovation that leads in different ways, things that might have been considered bad a few years ago, sometimes you wonder why this rule that you don't particularly understand can't be broken. And then you see it in all its flawful glory in someone else's writing and you get it. Those are things that you can't learn from only studying masterful works. So, you've gotta love it--even if you don't know what tennis love is. Somehow, it still works.

Summer Goals Revision

So alas, reality sets in. I thought I'd be working on my Sleeping Beauty novel this summer and surely could get 100 pages out of it. If this tutorial had been like last summer's, I might have. But since Han only requires 8-10 new pages a week, as compared to Hillary's 20, and well, since I'm discovering I really need to know a lot more about Medieval life to take off with that one, it's not going to happen.

But it's seriously all for the better because I'm feeling a little liberated to work on my thesis, which I need to be doing anyway. It's almost the end of June and I'm still just editing into page 25. Only 225 more to go in the next two months. Not so bad, eh? :) Actually, hopefully it won't be that bad. I'll be cutting a lot toward the end, I think. But if the end goes anything like the beginning, I might be adding a lot too. I wish I knew how to show all these facial expressions more than just smiles. You'd see my teeth in a straight line here.

And well, the exercise thing too. Oh, I'm looking again and see I didn't end up including it. Well I should have. I had planned to write 3x a week. But that is revised. Seriously I need to get off my butt, but the weather is not so friendly as I'd hoped.

1. Finish creative draft of thesis (I'm giving myself til Sept 7)
2. Have a draft of my critical part
3. Exercise 2x a week (Reminder to self--go the mall. it's not that far!)
4. Attend the temple each month
5. Get a job

Can I do it? I have a few others I should put up, but I won't embarrass myself. Just in my head.

Inadvertent Advertisement

I'll thank my roommate for introducing me to bloglines.com because the concept of saving all of the blogs I wanted to track was a new one, and saved me a lot of time from opening lots of blogs from time to time having no idea when friends would write. But there was another benefit. Bloglines's recommendations introduced me to a few recommended sites and then, following links on some of these and on some of my writer friends from school, I've collected quite the list of blogs that help me keep up with the writing and reading world.

But there was one more benefit to bloglines. They had one of their own blogs, which they automatically subscribed me to, wherein they posted a self-congratulatory note about their success over Google Reader. Oh! Google does something like this too? Why yes, they do. So I held onto that for awhile, explored a little but didn't feel like transferring my long list over just to experiment. Finally, I decided to go ahead and try, so I transferred a few over, then messed around to see the features. Well, I have to say I like them better. Sorry bloglines. You were great for awhile. Thanks for the intro, but so long.

Fortunately, Google Reader has an import tool, and Bloglines has an export tool, so it wasn't such hard work as I'd thought to get them all transferred. And now I'm enjoying the good things about Google Reader with all the blogs I follow, and the more that I continue to add both from their recommendations and from those in emails and blogs I already get.

So, what are the differences? Bloglines allows you to save posts that you want for later. But, once you've clicked on the link and then leave, all of the posts in that blog are automatically marked as read. In Google Reader, you have to open each post to mark it as read, and you can also mark an opened one as unread. But also! You can star and share, email to others and tag. Also, you can scroll through the posts in a particular blog, and you can put certain blogs in folders. So I can group all the children's lit related blogs, for example, and then also group my friends--so I can keep things separate. It's pretty nice. I like that! You can also view in expanded view format, like Outlook, abbreviated or expanded email view. And you can even elect to view the past x number of posts whether you've marked them as read or not.

Bloglines might have these capabilities, but they were glaring out at me, and so Google Reader comes across to me as more user friendly. It's also handy since I have gmail, that I can click on the link at the top (where all the Google's other feature links are) to Reader, and go right there.

So, there you go. Have fun!

Validation with a Cinderella Connection

I've noticed that I tend to include little this and that about clothes quite a bit on here, and yet I haven't really considered myself a terrible clothes fanatic. But then in class the other day we had to write down memories of our childhood and I was drawn to remember that I did have a bad habit of judging people based on their clothes, and well, I was quite a bit more clothes conscious when I was in junior high and even to a certain extent in high school. Not that I sought people who were really highly fashionable. No, they just had to have similar level of moderation to mine--not even the same style--just this undefined level of balance between too slummy and too haughty. Perhaps there was a certain level of maturity in that because it seemed once I got to college just about everyone was "just right." But then again, maybe I'd matured by the time I was in college, and it just didn't matter so much any more. Perhaps that's why I look back to those college days with some longing. I could wear blue jeans all day and nice tops and feel I was "just right," because that was just generally what everyone else did. None too haughty or too lowly.

But then the working world came along, and new rules came into play. How I hated that transition. I really would prefer to wear blue jeans all day. That's probably why I was such a pill at that place of work where I did data entry--I wrote about it before but I've since deleted that post because I felt bad about it. Anyway, you might remember it regardless. I think part of it, too, was the money issue. I was a really poor graduate school drop-out at that point, and so when they changed the rules and said I had to wear pants to work, well, what's a girl supposed to do? Most of the pants I owned were pajama pants I'd been sewing with my recent acquisition of a sewing machine, as I strived to improve my skills.

Now we come to the Cinderella connection comes. Nancy Willard is our writer-in-residence this summer, and she came to speak with us this evening. It was a wonderful speech, too. Quite different from a lot of our author guests who talk about their writing career and all that--which is fine, too, not to disparage them. I'm always glad to hear about those things. But anyway, so in Nancy's speech, she was talking about the writing craft with particular attention to the narrator's voice. Things I've learned about before, but the stories she shared were a little new and different. One of them was a Scholastic editor's demand for a new retelling of Cinderella under the belief that what drove the love for the Cinderella story was not the prince, not the pumpkin, not the wicked steps, not even the glass slipper, but the dress. Girls love the Cinderella story because it validates the idea that a change of clothes will create enough of a change so as to change their whole life. I would have to nod my head to that. It makes perfect sense. That's why, as the Scholastic editor based his theory, so many young girls want to dress like Cinderella for Halloween.

So why is that validating for me? Well, I can relate. I still feel, even in my recent work experiences that clothes tend to make you or break you. People notice what you wear and treat you accordingly. That was a point I was trying to get to in that old post I deleted, but couldn't quite get there because all of the experiences weren't adding up. But I think it's true, within certain contexts, expectations. Anyway, I'm dropping this now because it edges so much on judgment that I don't want to cast out.

Aside from the work place, and even the school place--even now being back in school, I'm not as comfortable dressing just however I want to dress because, well, perhaps because it's summer and everyone doesn't just wear blue jeans and nice tops. There are all other kinds of levels of modesty and casualness and fanciness going on. I don't think I base my friendships on how people dress now, but for some reason, clothes are still on my mind under some premise that they can make or break me. Of course it's a total fallacy, which is probably why the Lord had to warn against love of clothing in a few places in the scriptures. But anyway...

I'm not done, nor even "there" yet--that's not the whole of the connection! What I've been trying to get myself to is the literature connection. That considering the high profile Cinderella has in literature, the number and variety of the stories she shows up in, in one form or another, her story is pretty significant to the reading population. So, for a blogger who does like to write about this that and the other thing but who tends to write more about clothes in oddball form and books and writing in slightly less so, but still oddball form, my world is starting to come together to make some certain degree of sense. Clothes and books--there really is a connection.

The Muddy Window

As promised, the beautiful metaphor. Actually it's anything but beautiful, but it's pretty accurate. So I had to read this book for class, To a Young Jazz Musician by Wynston Marsalis and then write up little things about my reactions and how it compares to writing. Well, the preface and the first chapter were pretty interesting and pretty cool. His style kept my interest, and he had some mildly interesting things to say.

Then I got to Chapter Two, or the second letter--not sure how they're distinguished and whoa! Those words I'd been worried about, actually one or two had shown up in Chapter One, but somehow they seemed minimal. Well, in Chapter Two, they weren't minimal. And they weren't mild. It became really really hard to concentrate on what I was reading and push to the end of the chapter. I guess it did some good though because it brought this metaphor to mind, which I actually wrote in my journal response.

This is what I wrote: "...the dominant things I do recall are the profanity. It so masks the rest of his writing, it's so unfortunate he felt a need to include it. I find profanity so utterly disrespectful, derogatory, unintelligent, unimaginative--it's the antithesis to good writing. A good image came to mind--like someone inviting you to come somewhere--a place you'll have to drive, and then as you're driving along and enjoying the scenery, suddenly they (the person who invited you, who is riding in the car with you) climb on your car and dump a bucket of mud on your windshield, then hop back in the car smiling as if they'd done nothing wrong--even helped you in some way. What? Sure you can turn on your windshield wipers and maybe still enjoy some of the scenery--you might even make it to your destination, but it gets harder the more times they hop out and dump the slop on your windshield and I personally have to wonder if it's really worth the journey. It seems a better use of my time to ask them to get out of my car and stay away from me. I'm sure I can find another friend who'll take me on a better trip."

Dr. Seuss

As I continued reading Inkheart last week, I was thinking about writing a post about reading begetting writing, because I really did feel a little more inspired along the lines of the kind of writing I wanted to do as I read that. I made some progress in my thesis even, which isn't fantasy, but definitely lighter-hearted. I think a lot of it was feeling the contrast between reading The Woman in White compared to Inkheart. The mystery and heavy writing and adult writing of that book were not really conducive to my kind of writing, and I could feel it, a bit of a lag.

But why did you name this Dr. Seuss you're asking? Well, if you're following my booklist, which you're probably not, especially since the alphabetical format doesn't make it as easy to follow as a chronological one might--anyway, if you happen to be following it, then you'd noticed that I've added quite a few of Dr. Seuss's books today. (It's okay, you can look now.) And so, I'm discovering just in my thinking that reading does indeed beget writing because it begets thinking. How can anyone read 15 Dr. Seuss books in a day or two day period and not be forcing themselves to find rhymes for every thought that pops into their head? Now I haven't sat down to write a poem or a rhyming picture book today. I suppose I might later, but I imagine it might flow a little easier. Instead I've been working on other things for classes which are more prosy, and indeed, I've struggled a bit. But it is an interesting phenomenon to note.

So since I started with an example of different proses rather than immediately with Dr. Seuss you're not as tempted to argue that it's an isolated case that rhyming would naturally beget rhyming, but other styles, well, how can you prove that? I don't know that you can prove it, but don't you find yourself thinking more like people that you spend a lot of time with? How else could be a cliche statement to say that friends are finishing each other's sentences. It happens. And so if your mind is in books, you'll start to think like the books. It only makes sense. (Another reason to consider earlier posts about influences on children. But here, I'm just taking the case for style. I think I might have talked influences into the ground for the time being--well, actually I came up with a pretty cool metaphor yesterday, maybe I'll share that, but next post.)

When I was more interested in writing picture books, I found that if I ran to the library and read a bunch and checked out some more to read through the week, that my mind did ruminate along the lines of picture books. I had that style of plot going on in my head and that age of characters and their sillinesses and problems at the forefront. To contrast that, during one of the summers here at Hollins when I thought I wanted to work on picture books (the class was a free frall, for what you wanted to work on and there were a few who dabbled with picture books and poetry), but by in large, people were working on novels and since we were reading each other's work, my mind got to running in the circles of older characters' troubles and sillinesses and eventually I got more involved in a longer novel which is now my thesis. So, it can have positive effects in both directions. In fact, I would have to say I'd recommend the seeking of multiple styles of influences as you go about begetting writing things. I think it can help you find your strengths and your weaknesses and see where you like your mind to be.

So maybe I haven't said much, but it's kind of interesting to think about.

What is a Story?

I've been wondering this probably since the first time either it was suggested or I decided to cut a scene from something I was writing, which was actually only fairly recently (within the last two or three years) that I wrote something longer than 20 pages, making such an option, and it's kind of puzzling.

Okay so technically I wrote a 50-page thing in 2001, but I didn't do much cutting there and eventually trashed the whole thing, so we won't go there.

But seriously, although I knew authors did lots of cutting and re-writing, even in my own limited experience with poems, picture books and short stories, the concept of severe alterations was kind of new. So I'm wondering, when scenes are altered so much that they're really not the same scene at all any more, how is it that the story is still the same? I'm not arguing that such alterations change the heart of the story. In fact, quite the contrary, I think they still are, but how is it possible? What is at the heart of a story that makes such alterations acceptable?

So I'll look at the first and simplest example that comes to mind. For my thesis novel, the first very first scene that I ever wrote involved a BYU woman student (I hate the word "co-ed," so don't try to edit me here), in her apartment kitchen beginning to make some cookies for a guy she had a crush on. She remembered that he would be coming home from campus about then, so rushed to the window to watch him come down the campus stairs and into the apartment complex, and shortly thereafter, watched as he began a conversation with another woman, ward member. She got to feeling jealous and insecure and then pre-occupied in her thoughts as she started doing homework while the cookies baked and so as not to look like she's watching them out her window and the cookies burn.

That scene is no longer in my story. But it still fits the heart of the story, the story really did grow out of that. She still bakes him cookies, but she does so in an apartment other than her own. She doesn't remember he'll be coming home, but she does run into him, her arms full of baking ingredients which he helps to carry, on her way to the other apartment. These cookies don't burn. But, she had also tried making cookies earlier, and they burned. But he was not a distraction in that event, only studying. Additionally, although the woman she was jealous of is not currently involved in either of these two scenes directly, she does play the same role in the story, being an enviable distraction to the man our main character is in interested in.

Similar elements, same story, but pretty different too. What's at the heart of it? What are the similarities? The characters are the same. Actually our main character has undergone a name change, to add another twist. But she's still the same character, a little low in self-confidence, not a great cook, and having to bake cookies that she doesn't want to make. The guy is still the ward icon of perfection, although he is not at all perfect. And the enviable character is still that, a flirt and good at it. But these are fairly common characters. In the sequel, which would not be the same book, these characters would still be there. So what else is the same? The setting--the apartment complex where the cookies are made, the ward and the feeling of the ward in that time, though not directly described in these scenes, play a big role in her reason for making the cookies. The proximity to campus, the feeling about baking cookies in the setting, what it indicates about a woman who does and one who doesn't like to bake them, and what it means to bake them for a certain guy. In short, the premise. Right?

In the sequel, although cookie baking may play a role, there would be certain differences simply because the character has already been through that introduction to the world that revolves around how she feels about baking cookies and specifically for a guy and the particular guy that she's baking them for.

Although I hadn't really intended to do this, it does kind of bring up the question about copyrights, doesn't it? If someone else wrote a story that included the scene I first described, my first scene that isn't in the book, would they be infringing on my story? Would their overall story likely be the same as mine or might it be different? Technically they would be infringing if they had seen my draft that included that scene, because although it wasn't published, it was in a fixed medium, and therefore copyrighted according to current laws. But, aside from that, if it were just an idea that I'd described and not written, being just an idea, it wouldn't be copyrighted.

So the question then is, supposing they legally took that first scene, how likely is that they would actually be writing a different story all together if that were the first or early scene in their book? Or, can the premise of a story be the same in multiple books and they each be unique? I guess I'm still wondering. What do you think?

My New Skirt

I had hoped to post these on Memorial Day when I started the skirt, but since I didn't finish it, and then didn't have a shirt that matched, (or didn't think I did), you got to wait to see my Memorial Day traditional sewing creation. But alas, it is here. With an added benefit, you get to see a few inches of my new abode at Hollins.

I suppose I could have just taken a picture of the skirt without me in it, but since Anne-Marie requested I wear a skirt next time I take a picture of one, I'll grant her wish. :)

Summer Goals

Saw this on another blog as a "meme" aka "tag"
It's simply, so I bit. Five summer goals!

• Finish my thesis (creative part) second round to my advisor
• Have a draft of my critical part ready
• Attend the temple each month
• Get 100 pages of another book written
• Get a full-time job
  

Stay Away from the Bleach!

When I left home to go to college, I tried using bleach, knowing that was one of those products that goes with the laundry. Fortunately at that time, I only ever used it with my underwear. But the result was still somewhat amusing as I had colorful underpanties at the time and after I'd washed them they were a lot more colorful.

Well, this past couple washes, after noticing my whites aren't as white as I'd like, I thought I'd try again, perhaps thinking that I was a lot older now so maybe I would know better. Well, the whites worked out successfully. Hooray! I'm not sure how I could have messed them up, but progress is progress, right? Well, so I was thinking I have these towels that tend to smell moldy pretty quickly, so maybe I could try bleach on them too, right? So I tried again putting bleach in with some coloreds. (I'm not smart enough to separate all of my coloreds, but I'm glad at least I kept out my delicates.)

So, to make a long story short, voila le resultat:
Actually, I think this skirt might like better like this, don't you?

Psycho Dreams

I've fallen into the habit of going to sleep a little too early, like 8:00 or 9:00--like while I'm reading or something and then waking up at strange hours, like 3:00 or 4:00. Last night, or this morning, I guess, I woke up at 4:00, thinking I'd heard my roommate get into the shower so that I must have slept through the night. No, it was 4:00. I'm not sure what the noise was.

I stayed awake for about an hour, put my pajamas on and messed around online, ate some carrots because I was hungry--and that's another story--I seem to be allergic to raw vegetables in the spring. I got all the regular nose itchy sneezy feelings from the carrots, and this cold I've had seems to have started when I ate a green pepper!--Every year my allergies turn to a cold, it's just how it is. The nose can't take all the stimuli.

Anyway, so then around 5:00, I went back to bed, though until I was actually out of bed, my mind wasn't registering that I had gone back to sleep. Do you ever have dreams like that? I was in my bed, and I kept hearing noises, like someone slamming the front door, running up the stairs and either putting or taking something from the crates at the foot of my bed (actually behind my head, I sleep backwards to keep my head away from the draft of the window). I kept trying to turn around to see them and what they were doing, but then they'd disappear. My voice was like one of those warbled, vaccuumed noises like slow-mo in movies or something. It just wouldn't come out to tell them to stop or ask who they were.

But it gets worse. So then I decide to get out of bed and see if I can chase them or something, or maybe I decide to get up and take a shower. So I get to the bathroom, but something has happened to the towel hooks. They seem to be missing, ripped off or something, so I call to my roommate and she's oblivious, but doesn't seem to care, so I go on my way and soon realize this isn't even my bathroom, so I decide I must be asleep still so I decide to go back to bed, but as I leave the bathroom, I only enter into a series of other bathrooms of varying degrees of luxury. Some saunas, some whirlpools, some with ogres in them. Yea, pretty weird.

Somehow I eventually make it back to my bed, but there are these children who keep coming through the walls or the window or something from the outside, and I'm trying to figure out how they're doing it and if I'm awake or not, so I start playing with them and well, I'm ashamed to say, bouncing them against the floor to see if they're real--but don't worry, they're like 10 year olds, so it wasn't painful or anything. And I'm calling to my roommate, telling her I'm going crazy-but my voice is still fuzzed and she's doing her own thing, maybe getting into the shower.

So, in my bed now or still, thinking I've finally determined that I'm really awake but that I need to go to sleep, I decide to look at my alarm clock to see what time it is, to see if I can sleep a little longer or if I should get up and take a shower. The alarm clock is supposed to be behind my head on the crate, where that strange person who'd been running in and out of the house had been messing around, and I discover it's missing. That must have been what the person took! What am I going to do? So I go back to sleep anyway, figuring even if I don't have an alarm clock, I'll hear my roommate get in the shower and know I should get up.

Then, eventually my alarm does go off, and I hit it off. Ah, it's there! I should get up now while reality has me, but something is keeping me in my bed, or is it taking me to the concert where the music is playing? Oh, that's it. A lot of my friends are at this concert, as well as the kids who have been coming through the walls, and they're still crawling all over me, but I know I don't have much time left since my alarm has gone off, so I need to go take my shower, and I leave the concert and go to the bathroom, but pass through the saunas and everything again, only this time, I only have a towel around me, and there are men around--so I make sure to cover my behind as I fly through this place with the towel.

And then my alarm goes off again, and I this time manage to pull myself out of bed and realize my roommate has gone. The shower is empty, but uh-oh, it's time for me to leave so I can go to work. Dang!

Politics, agh!

I'm not a terrible fan of politics, but I have a mild curiosity and do do some research about candidates. In any case, I have a roommate who is very much into politics and since I'd watched about 30 minutes of Fox the night of Clinton's loss to Obama, I had some curiosity questions for her--mostly opinion-based. During the course of the conversation, she not a Clinton fan, said something to the effect that if Obama did take her as VP, she'd likely kill him secretly and then "Woops, I guess I'm President" Bright smile.

It reminded me of a chapter in the Book of Mormon where a certain citizen, Amalickiah, desires power and seeks audience with the king to the this effect. When the king is finally convinced, after long persuasion, to come down from his mountain hide-out and see him, Amalickiah gains his wish and becomes second in command. Not long after that, Am's thugs kill the king and then of course, Am becomes king.

Curiously, I happened upon this chapter in my daily reading this morning. Is it an omen? Hmm.

The Cult of the Book

In spite of the title of my blog, I actually am not a fan let a lone a member of the cult of the book. "-phile" just means you like or maybe love something, but I don't put that on the same level as adoration or worship. But I do think there is a dangerous trend toward this.

The inspiration for this post--it's something I've thought about a lot, but last night I began reading "Inkheart" by Cornelia Funke, which I've heard is excellent. But the cult came out loud and strong in the first chapter. Their house was covered with books, piles here and there and everywhere; the main character Meggie and her dad seem to be constantly reading; his profession is repairing old books.

Really, I don't see anything terribly wrong with this. But it does tend toward the border of wondering if these people live outside of their books. Isn't there also life outdoors? I guess I'm not 100% positive on any statistics to this effect, but is there any evidence that it's not just television but also reading that might encourage a lack of outdoor activity?

Aside from that, the more disturbing part (though still relatively mild) came when Meggie made a negative remark about the stuffy man who brought in Bibles to be repaired by her dad. On the surface there's nothing terribly wrong with this either. The man who brought in Bibles to be recovered might have been stuffy and unpleasant. But it's fiction--he's not real. And he has no other significance to the story. That's why I find it significant that of all the books she mentions, the one she associates with negative things is the Bible.

Of course I'll keep reading. It's not terribly offensive, just borderline. And it might have some redeeming religious relations later. Not likely, but maybe. It does stir up in my mind what I'd been pondering before--that there is this trend toward adoration/worship of books, and not just books generally, but books with the exception of the scriptures.

It's fairly common practice to include in young adult and middle grade books a character who loves reading--some promotion in one way or another of reading. Along with this, many reading advocates promote reading of anything and everything. As long as a child is reading it's great. And then as I've read on many blogs, read in the articles in that Judy Blume censorship collection, and heard more times than I can count, there's this idea that parents should not "interfere" with what their children are reading but let them read anything they want--with Bravos to parents who place no restrictions on their children and don't even give a hoot about what their children read.

Why? So of course, literacy is a concern, and I do understand that when children learn to love reading, their literacy will progress and we'll have more informed and educated citizens and this will all lead to the greater good. But everything? I'm not sure about that.

Why do these people have such confidence in the mass of books out there to instruct better than parents? Does it actually discourage literacy if parents are mindful of their children's reading habits? My guess would be quite the opposite. What children need more than book instruction is loving attention from their parents. Of course, not all parents are good parents, but still. Why should a parent be bravoed for not parenting over such a huge mass of potential influences on their child? That just doesn't make sense to me.

And why, at least in this one case, though it seems a broader feeling, should there be encouragement toward any books but the scriptures? Could it be that the scriptures would be one source that would discourage this cult of the book? Well, I haven't actually memorized the Bible, unfortunately, though I'm pretty familiar with it--had seminary and have attended Sunday School forever. But I haven't really studied the issue of books and such influences specifically in the Bible. In any case, I can't think of something in the Bible that would directly contradict the encouragement to read books.

But there is the verse in Philippians, (Philip. 4: 8) also referenced and reiterated in the Articles of Faith, that says this:
"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. "

I like the positive turn this gives to the subject, don't you? It doesn't say don't do this and don't do that, although we do sometimes need that kind of guidance as well (eg. The Ten Commandments do have a handful of don'ts). But it seems with so much good there is out there, as recognized, if we spend our time looking for the good, then why should we waste our time plundering in the bad stuff?

The Doctrine & Covenants, though not as widely familiar as the Bible, also talks to this same point, but actually does address books specifically: 90:15:
"And set in order the churches, and study and learn, and become acquainted with all good books, and with languages, tongues, and people."

So, there you go, another cool verse, --eeh, with a reminder that I shouldn't just be studying fiction, too--learning is a great thing, but it is specific to "good" books, not just any books.

While it doesn't directly address the definition of good here, I think the context as shown in the Philippians verse is revelatory--true, honest, just, pure. Definitely good things there. (In defense of fiction--since the question of truth comes up--I'll say, in case it isn't obvious, that some important truths are masked in tales--Jesus himself taught in parables for the benefit of the people to see at the level for which they were prepared.)

My favorite verse about defining good goes right along with these, the one in Moroni which I mentioned in my long essay about what makes a good picture book, (I think the first post I copied into this blog)--Moroni 7: 12-15:
"12 Wherefore, all things which are ^agood cometh of God; and that which is ^bevil cometh of the devil; for the devil is an enemy unto God, and fighteth against him continually, and inviteth and enticeth to ^csin, and to do that which is evil continually.

13 But behold, that which is of God inviteth and enticeth to do ^agood continually; wherefore, every thing which inviteth and ^benticeth to do ^cgood, and to love God, and to serve him, is ^dinspired of God.

14 Wherefore, take heed, my beloved brethren, that ye do not judge that which is ^aevil to be of God, or that which is good and of God to be of the devil.

15 For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to ^ajudge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night."

It sounds kind of black and white, doesn't it? Just like the definition of charity is broken up into all the things this means (actually in this same chapter, but also in Corinthians in the Bible)--patient, long suffering, kind, etc. I appreciate being able to combine this verse with the Philippians verse to understand better what does bring a person to Christ. Of course there's a feeling to it, some obvious things, or he couldn't say so easily the difference is like night and day, but still. I appreciate the details.

For one, accompanying these also with the D&C verse, we know that the scriptures, although the best at bringing souls unto Christ, aren't the only good books available. And indeed, we need to seek for all or many of the good books and good things there are to be found.

And so, considering the multitude of scriptures that talk about raising up your children well, (which I won't quote because there are far too many), I would think there's room for interpretation that parents might be wise to encourage their children in reading good books. And by personal extension, it would seem that this might best come about by their own reading of good books. As my interest lies in children's and young adult books, I'll put my plug in, too, that parents and other adults alike--particularly those with influence on children---might be wise to read some good children's books! :)

So there's my two cents. Parents can be good parents by reading and encouraging reading, of good books, and promote both literacy and parent-child loving relationships. Don't you think it's great how these things can work together? What do you think?