Tag Archives: Inspiration

Had We But World Enough and Time I Could Make You Love Poetry Too

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In addition to writing about love, I spend a lot of time talking about the literature of love, and of sex. I teach British Literature as a professor at a community college in Texas, and I get to teach high school students all about British Literature from 1000 to 1800.  I say “get to” because it is my privilege. I feel very fortunate on most days to be the one who gets to introduce them to the complex wonders of Chaucer, Donne, Marvelle and yes, Shakespeare. I love showing them why I enjoy sonnets and love extended metaphors and all the other ways that poetry challenges us, and makes us respond to the words on the page. And sometimes they point out things that make me pause and re-evaluate my own responses and then I have a deeper appreciation for the poems we’ve been reading for the past 500 years. Today, I got to experience that, and it was a great way to finish the day.

Today we discussed two of the better known “Carpe Diem” poems, Robert Herrick’s “To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time” and Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress”. (The latter happens to be one of my all time favorite poems and the link I’ve included has a great version of it read by someone who sounds awfully like Patrick Stewart.)

As we were reading the poem I pointed out why he praises various body parts of his lady, and what he is trying to do by focusing on her eyes, forehead and heart, and also why he is trying to convince her that if they had “but world enough and time” then he would be committed to loving her “ten years before the flood”.

One of my students mentioned that parts of the poem are really weird, and that the idea of worms trying her “long preserved virginity” was a really gross image. When she said this I agreed, and I also pointed out that he compares them to “amorous birds of prey” and suggests that they “tear [their] pleasure with rough strife,” and that these are not usually images or birds we associate with love. When we think of birds and love we think of songbirds, or doves or lovebirds. We rarely think of falcons and hawks.

But, I went on to say, this is one of the reasons I absolutely love this poem. Andrew Marvell contrasts these gruesome or unpleasant images with some astoundingly beautiful ones. He says to his mistress that “my vegetable love should grow / vaster than empires, and more slow” which brings to mind green growing life, and vines curling outwards across the land. I love the idea of vegetable love. It seems so precious and earthy, and yet it brings forth life and nourishes us. Or, if you aren’t a fan of vegetable love, you might prefer, “the youthful hue / sits on thy skin like morning dew”. I would swoon if someone said that to me. But, shortly after that he’s talking about death and ashes.

And for me, the contrast between the beautiful and the ugly is what makes this poem startlingly great. It’s like life, in that beautiful things are set right next to ugly ones. Amazingly beautiful flowers grow out of mud, and lovely, wonderful things are right next to gruesome, awful ones. This poem sees the reality and the beauty and isn’t trying to hide one with the other. And that makes the beautiful things all the more marvelous (get it? Marvell-ous?) and the ugly things take on their own sort of loveliness.

So many of the poems from this era try to disguise their intentions with flowery, lovely language, or complex rhymes so that we don’t notice the truth. Or, we might notice it but we see it as insincere. Marvell might be insincere in his commitment to this woman, but he’s honest about it. He’s saying if we had time, I’d make you all sorts of flowery speeches, but we don’t. We’re going to die and it will be awful. Let’s enjoy things now while we can, and even if we can’t stop time, we will give it a run for its money.

That right there is how I finished my class. *Mic drop*. Isaacks Out.

Why Anne Shirley Was My First Feminist Icon

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I was thinking recently on one of my all time heroines, and contemplating how Anne Shirley has influenced my life.

I first learned of Anne of Green Gables because my mother borrowed the VHS of the two movies starring Megan Fellows. You know the one. And then, I checked the books out of the library and proceeded to read them over and over and over and over. All of them. For years. I can even re-read them now and still enjoy them, and get new insights from them (for instance, I recently re-read Anne’s House of Dreams, which chronicles her first few years of married life with Gilbert, and as a married woman as well, I gained a new perspective.) Yes, the stories are sentimental, dramatic and very romanticized, but Anne remains for me, as Mark Twain put it, “the dearest and most lovable child in fiction since the immortal Alice.”

When it comes to boys she might have done me a little disservice. I now have a tendency to over-romanticize boys and not see when they are actually just being normal boys. And I will never be as beautiful or as good. It has been a little disappointing to realize that no matter what, I will never be the mother she was to the Ingleside crew. But in general, Anne Shirley Blythe has taught me so much about being a strong, smart, creative girl that I never really stop to think about the influence she’s had until I am doing something and realize there’s an Anne quote that fits perfectly into the moment. Sadly, I know so few other Anne-obsessives that I can’t say the quote aloud without feeling slightly ridiculous (also happens with Lorelei Gilmore quotes). But, I do it anyway, because Anne would too.

So, here are my top lessons in being a feminist from Anne Shirley Blythe:

1. She is ambitious, and doesn’t let society’s expectations get in her way:

“Oh, it’s delightful to have ambitions. I’m so glad I have such a lot. And there never seems to be any end to them– that’s the best of it. Just as soon as you attain to one ambition you see another one glittering higher up still. It does make life so interesting.”

“We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self denial, anxiety and discouragement.”

“I’ve done my best, and I begin to understand what is meant by ‘the joy of strife’. Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.”

As any good fan knows, Anne was top in her class, except when Gilbert took that honor. She worked hard to learn geometry, and all of her other lessons to keep her place. She was so ambitious that she went to high school and college, earning a B.A. in English. But she also understands what it means to fail, and what we can learn from our mistakes.

When I was in college I used to remind myself of Anne’s study habits and this inspired me to work a little harder. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.

2. She is smart, and isn’t afraid to admit it

“Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive–it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?”

Anne is a reader, and an imaginative thinker. She isn’t afraid of being perceived as “too smart”. She accepts her love of literature, poetry and writing, and even though it makes her seem odd to others, she refuses to apologize for it. She says that she needs her big words because she has big ideas. Her example made me proud of loving books and being smart as well. The fact that she never hid this made me more courageous too.

3. She doesn’t let boys or romance distract her from her goals. 

“Young men are all very well in their place, but it doesn’t do to drag them into everything, does it?”

Not only is she smart, she’s not afraid to let boys know it. Anne uses her competition with Gilbert to become the best in their class. She refuses to accept any disrespect and refuses to be swayed by a pretty face, even when that pretty face is trying to apologize for wounding her pride and calling her “Carrots”. Of course, later on, when they’ve grown up she becomes friends with Gilbert, but even then, their feelings for each other don’t keep her from working. She earns her degree in a time when co-education is rare and not well accepted, then becomes an English teacher and also a high school principal in Kingstown while Gilbert goes to medical school.

4. She is a good friend, who won’t let others talk badly of those she cares about.

“We ought always to try to influence others for good.”

Too often we tend to disparage or insult our friends, or other women in general.  But Anne Shirley isn’t standing for it. Anne tells Phillippa Gordon that she won’t hear anyone talk badly about her friends, even if it’s self-disparaging talk. She encourages positive thinking, and friendship above all else. When I hear myself saying something negative about a woman in my head I remember her example and repent.

5. She knows herself and accepts herself.

 “Well, I don’t want to be anyone but myself, even if I go uncomforted by diamonds all my life,” declared Anne. “I’m quite content to be Anne of Green Gables, with my string of pearl beads.”

When Anne and Gilbert finally get engaged she wants a circle of pearls, even though Gilbert says that diamonds are traditional (actually this tradition didn’t start until the 1920s, well after Anne and Gilbert were married, but L.M. was writing in the 20th century, so we’ll excuse her. Besides, without the error we wouldn’t have this great quote). Anne learns to accept herself over the years and knows what she does and doesn’t want. And what she doesn’t want is a bunch of diamonds that don’t fit her, even if everyone else is doing it. I remember this lesson sometimes when I’m feeling discouraged because my path differs from the people around me. I remind myself to choose what works for me, not what others think I should be doing. I might not have monetary goods, but I still get to be me.

6. She understands the power of clothes.

“It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable.”

“All I want is a dress with puffed sleeves”

Some might say that feminists shouldn’t worry about clothes, but to paraphrase Anne, it’s easier to be good if you look good too. When I like my appearance, and my clothes I find it makes me more confident and happier. When I take care of myself, I’m loving myself.

7. When she does have children she doesn’t play the mommy wars

Anne is ambitious, and loves teaching. But the social expectations of her day require her to devote herself to her family. But that doesn’t mean everyone agrees with her choices. Anne has five children, and little time to do the writing that she so loved. But when someone calls her out on it at a dinner party, trying to make her feel badly for having so many children! she responds gracefully, and tells the busybody that she is writing “living epistles now,” meaning that she is focusing on creating living, breathing letters to the world in the form of her children. She doesn’t feel guilty for her choices, and refuses to downplay her role as a mother. She might not have the same choices I have today to be married, work and have children, but she’s not about to let someone insult the choice she does make.

8. She’s human and makes mistakes too.

When she was a child, Anne once told Marilla that she never repeats the same mistake. Marilla replies by saying something like, “but there are plenty more out there for you to discover.” And it’s true. Anne is constantly learning more about herself, and growing from the experience. Whether it’s her hair dye fiasco, her red currant cordial mix-up, lashing out when people insult her red hair, her almost engagement with Royal Gardner in college, her poor love advice to Janet while she’s substitute teaching, or her jealousy over Christine Stuart (both during college and later, when she and Gilbert are married) Anne isn’t perfect, and she sometimes makes a mistake, driven by vanity, pride or jealousy. But she takes it all with the spirit of one who is optimistic, and wants to learn from her mistakes. And that’s some great advice.

There you have it, my top 8 reasons why Anne Shirley is a feminist icon. Who are your early fictional icons? Or, if Anne is one of yours, what lessons did you learn from her?

Swimming Pool Days

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When I was a kid we did swim team. I say we and mean my brother and two sisters and me, but also our entire circle of friends. We spent summer mornings in the pool and Saturday mornings at meets. I used to complain about waking up early and plunging into a cold pool that turned our lips blue, but I secretly loved it, once the circulation came back. I loved swimming breaststroke in a line of others and watching the sun kissed bubbles emerge from the swimmer’s kick in front of me (this is why I was not fast. I was too busy watching the pretty bubbles). I loved the feeling of my legs pushing me forward and the slice of my palm as it cut through that blue water. I loved the tingle of fear I had as I swam through the deep end, imagining against all possibility I’d see a shark lurking below. I loved cheering my team on, and the competitive anticipation that comes right before the starting buzzer sounds. I loved stretching my arms and legs like the Olympians, getting ready to dive and push through my pullout (the kicking and stroking you do underwater) and pop back up from that silence to the churning of the race. At my pool we didn’t have diving blocks so if you had to swim backstroke and wanted a better push off from the edge you borrowed a friend’s legs to cling to as she or he stood on the pool’s edge before the race. I loved that. I loved how the crowd’s roar would crescendo at the very end of the meet as the older guys swam their relays. You could tell the end of the meet from two blocks away by that sound. I still love a good relay.

After Saturday meets there was an unspoken agreement that everybody who was anybody would be meeting at the local McDonald’s/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut everyone called McTacoHut. All the other teams would be there, their hair still sticking to their faces, dripping from their ponytails, shirts still damp and bathing suits peeking from underneath. We’d eat fries with our friends and crowd around the older kids as the parents gathered and exchanged stats on races and scores. Our dads would discuss form and who got DQ’d and why, and our moms would brag about how much time we shaved, or explain why we didn’t do as well this week.

Later in the afternoon, or on Sunday, we would be back at the pool. When we gathered with our family friends we’d go to the Olympic sized pool, Lake Newport. We knew all the lifeguards back then. They were our teammates or friends’ older siblings. We didn’t need an ID card for years, because they all knew us. We’d grill out and swim until the hot dogs were ready.

My brother and his best friend shared a birthday, July 27th. Perhaps this is why I’m thinking about it today. I am not close to my brother anymore. His religious beliefs make it hard for my family to feel comfortable around him. My parents divorced and his faith cannot tolerate that so he does not associate with them except for rare moments. Even though he’s as much fun as ever, and still the solid, sweet man he was as a boy, his jokes can quickly turn to serious discussions of a god the rest of us no longer trust. But as his birthday draws nearer, I am reminded of those summers.

Once, in the late afternoon, when the sky has just adopted that hazy purple that mutes the sharp edges of the day, I stood on a diving board and my whole world spread out before me. I could see the bright aquamarine of the pool, the long legs of teenage girls stretched on the lounge chairs, and the green tops of trees beyond the pool’s fence. The sounds of children laughing, the lifeguard’s whistle and the lapping of the pool were muted and my thoughts loud in my head. Our mothers were making dinner, and in a moment I’d swim over and dry off, and eat salty, ridged chips with my siblings and our friends, giggling at inside jokes long forgotten. While standing on that board, the sandpaper grip under my toes, the world open before me, I suddenly realized I was standing in a precious, perfect bubble, and simultaneously observing it all. I must have been fifteen, just starting to explore the shadows in the suburban picture I’d always known, but on this day none existed. It was the late 90s, and I was a pretty teenager in a wealthy suburb, about to dive into a cool pool in the early twilight of a beautiful, carefree day. But even as I stood on that bouncing board I knew this perfect moment couldn’t last forever.

And then I dove.

Art Inspirations

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Once upon a time, I was an art student. I took Foundations of Design classes, Art History classes, Art and Psychology classes, Painting I & II, Photography I & II, and Figure Painting (with oils!)  I sat through slide after slide after slide of art from the Venus of Willendorf to Cubism and Futurism. And somehow I didn’t lose my love of art.

I might have changed my major from Art to English, but I saw them as extensions of the same desire– to express myself creatively and be inspired by others.

On Saturday, a good friend of mine went with me to the Blanton Museum in Austin. And I got to indulge in one of my favorite rare activities, staring at art and letting it mesmerize and amaze me.

I like to go slowly through a museum, unhurried by the pace of a tour or another person. I like to read the notes and let the technique and the effect soak into my skin. It leaves me feeling as though I emerged from a hot bath full of color and inspiration.

Saint Cecilia by Simon Vouet

It is an excellent thing, I think, to find inspiration outside of the field in which you are working. Visiting a museum can be an excellent way to get ideas. For instance, the image above is so beautiful, the colors, details and expression so captivating, that it forces you to think of descriptors in a new way.

Also, it makes you see what your characters might have seen if they had been living in a time, or place to see work like this. Lillian, my female lead, is an aspiring artist who is staying at a manor house in England. I now have the inspiration to create a scene where she can admire and study works like this so that the reader can see her desire to paint, and learn about her craft. And I can’t wait to have Morgan, my male lead, get involved in the discussion too.

And based on some other images, I’ve got some hilarious details to add to the characterization of one of my most Austenian humorous side characters. Let’s just say she wants to be painted like Mary Magdalene being carried up to heaven by a throng of putto, but even a throng of strong men might not be able to lift her…

Brainstorming Exercises

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I did a little brainstorming exercise a few days ago entitled “Ways to Torture Lillian”. Lillian is my main female lead. And I came up with about 20 things that would just drive her crazy, or push the story forward, or give me chances to create conflict. Some of them could become scenes, some of them could be combined with each other, and some of them can just be simmering under the surface of scenes. But all of them are fodder for my imagination, and now I have a list of things that I can’t wait to start writing about, rather than sitting around wondering when the words will come. Also, they are great character exercises. I now know Lillian so much better now that I know what makes her frustrated or angry!

So I did the same thing for Morgan, my main male lead.

Now on to the writing!

Research!

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One of the things I love most about historical fiction is the chance to dive into great big piles of articles about a topic and emerge with a little nugget of inspiration. Tonight I was preparing for my British Literature class by doing some research on Sir Thomas More and his literary and religious adversary, William Tyndale.

Here’s the few nuggets I collected that I might just polish into gold as part of my story:

  • Thomas More was engaged in spying on Protestant heretics.
  • He was given a special license to “read and keep certain books of Luther” which were banned at this time, so that he could use him in his response to Luther’s revolutionary ideas about the Church.
  • When King Henry VIII became the “Supreme head on earth of the Church of England” (how is that for a title?) his followers were able to rely on the common people’s ideas of obedience to one’s ruler as a Christian duty to get them to follow Henry’s changes in religion (somewhat). But, when his daughter, Mary, came to the throne and reverted England back to Catholicism this little idea created quite the dilemma! Do you all of a sudden backtrack and encourage the common people to follow a “papal queen” down the road to “certain hell”? (emphasis mine, but they’d probably say it too!)
  • During the years 1534-1547 there was a massive overhaul of the physical expression of the Catholic Church. It started with the Dissolution of Monasteries under King Henry, when he gave away land to the gentry in order to get their support for his new church (and kept a lot of the money found in the monasteries for himself) and it continued under his son, Edward. Stained glass, shrines, statues, crucifixes, and bells were all taken down and destroyed. Clergy were no longer expected to be celibate and the saying of mass for the dead was ended.
  • Many feast days were banished, which unsurprisingly upset the common people, who rather enjoyed the feasting and celebrating that went on in the villages on these days. Mobs also tried to prevent the dissolving of the monasteries, and other changes to their faith.

Why did I find all of these archaic details fascinating? Because they are the basis for storytelling and plot! Just think of the human tragedies that went on under the dissolving of the monasteries and abbeys, and destroying of common objects of faith. Think of the political machinations that occurred as part of Henry’s efforts to gain support, or his daughter’s accession to the throne. Imagine the anxiety of the messenger who had to carry Luther’s books to Sir Thomas More, special license or not! All of this is fodder for the story. All of this carries with it the passions of people who, no matter what we think now, felt deeply about these issues and were willing to die for them. That is what makes telling these stories and helping them come to life so exciting and vital. And a little romance to ease the pain doesn’t hurt.

Inspiration and Enthusiasm

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I’ve been reading a particularly interesting book recently, The Enlightenment by Anthony Pagden, all about how the European Enlightenment began and why it still matters to us today. I’ve been sucked into the 17th and 18th century and philosophy because my husband and I became obsessed with Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s Cosmos on Fox. I wanted to know more about these thinkers and scientists, and especially the women who played significant roles but were almost always ignored or overlooked.

I was never one of those children obsessed with science, the solar system or the way atoms worked. I used to joke about my inability to understand Chemistry and how my father didn’t want to tutor me through Physics because of all the math involved. But, when I was in college I took Geology as my science credit and became fascinated with how the Earth formed and how we know what we know about it. Cosmos fascinated me in similar ways. I loved learning about the history of how we know what we know about our universe.

While watching this show, learning about the history and the women involved, my storytelling wheels started spinning. I had been reading Eloise James at the same time, and was impressed by the intelligence of her characters and her writing. Just like me, she is a scholar of British literature, and you can tell from her work. She delights in working in a reference to a playwright from the Restoration Theatre, or a line of Shakespeare. I started wondering why I didn’t take my love of learning and combine it with my love of romance stories. Thus, was born my second novel, about a scientist and a poet. I can’t wait for you to read it!

This morning, I was reading Courtney Milan‘s The Countess Conspiracy, which is like Ms. James’ novels, in that her characters are witty and incredibly intelligent. I cannot tell you how much I am enjoying it, even though I am only halfway finished! Anyway, all of these divergent thoughts have a point. And that point is, that while reading Milan’s book, I finally had pictures in my head of this second novel. Just little glimpses, but enough to get me very excited about fleshing it out. One of my other favorite, non-romance writers, Anne Lamott says that she has a one inch frame on her desk as she writes because writing is like peering through and seeing one inch of your story at a time. Even though I plot my stories out, I know what she means, and I have that one inch view of my scientist-poet love story sharp in my mind!

However, even though all of these ideas are burning in my brain, all of this literature and history making the wheels turn ’round, like the water in a flour mill, I have the last few scenes of the first novel to finish! And I have a pact. I can’t start a new story until the first one is told. So, with the thumping heart of my second one ready to burst onto the page, I’m fast at work at the first. Luckily, much like procrastination, new bursts of creativity make the words flow faster!

So, I will bid you adieu and get back to it! I just wanted to stop in and spill my enthusiasm.