Review: Ready, Okay!

I finished Ready, Okay! by Adam Cadre last night after two afternoons of solid reading. This was, in part, due to the heart-wrenching downward spiral of the characters' lives, but also because I was vanquishing a year or so of book guilt by finishing it. After recommending it profusely, a friend of mine lent me her only copy of this book, and what did I do? I started reading it and then...stopped. For a really long time. I'm not sure exactly what made me put it down, but a year passed before I was able to pick it back up again, at which point I just decided to start over from the beginning. From that rocky start came one of the most powerful reading experiences I think I've ever had.

Ready, Okay! examines the lives of a handful of teenagers in suburban California. Allen Mockery (our narrator) is a jokester, amateur psychologist, and friend to those in need. Surrounding him are a host of other characters, including Peggy (his best friend), Molly (his little sister, who has some pretty strange ideas regarding clothing), Echo (his steely eyed twin), Krieg (his foul mouthed brother), and plenty more. You will meet quite a few people in this book, and all of them will surprise you. You will learn about their childhood, their family life, and their secrets. Before you know it, you will be so wrapped up in Allen's world that his friends will feel as real to you as your own. With wit, sarcasm, and probably some bias, Allen lets us in on everything, from gossip around school to his difficult family history. Even though only a few days had passed since I started the book, when I put it down I felt like I had grown up with the people between its pages. 

Allen's voice is sharp and funny and I constantly found myself laughing out loud at the things he said. True, more than a handful of the jokes were cringe worthy, but that doesn't mean that his witty comments weren't still highly entertaining. As his sister Molly told him in one of my favorite scenes in the whole book: "Your sense of humor is pathological. It's a defense mechanism. Echo's defense is to be insular and anti-social; yours is to crack a joke every twelve seconds." The other thing I loved about Allen is that his first instinct is to help people. It's this instinct that makes him so endearing to the reader, but also brings him (and us) a lot closer to the people around him. 

Even though it has a sense of humor, Ready, Okay! doesn't shy away from serious topics. Far from it. Instead, it plunges headlong into the pool of issues that teenagers face on a daily basis, from friendships and school gossip to sex, drugs, and parental abandonment. As the book progresses, and the lives of the characters deteriorate, you begin to see how everyone is connected- how the people you know, even if they are just acquaintances, can have such a huge impact on your life, and how those you thought you knew by heart can still surprise you.

I recently learned that Adam Cadre is working on a re-write of Ready, Okay! I think he is right to re-work some things, and I definitely want to read the revised version as soon as it's available. In the beginning I was majorly confused by the number of characters (so many siblings with similar names!). Allen makes some pretty long speeches when he happens to call someone out on something (which happens a lot), and, though this may also be due to the book's small type and unconventional chapter breaks, I felt like no matter how much I read I didn't make much progress. These things bugged me while I was in the middle of the book, but as the story careened towards its end all of that fell away. 

This book was a roller coaster ride of hilarity and poignancy, laughter and tears. It's honest and and funny and a little weird at times. Long after closing the book the characters stayed in my head, and I was still thinking about them when I woke up this morning. And if you do decide to read it, don't give up, even if it takes you a year. Trust me. It's so worth it. 

Patchwork

Hello there, reader! I've been trying to write a post for several days now, but for some reason I found myself facing a bad case of blogger's block (that sounds weird, doesn't it). So I went back into my old posts looking for inspiration, and I began reading all of the ones I started but never finished. Of the 106 posts I've started, only a slight majority were actually published. Though it feels like somewhat of a cop-out to my writer brain, I thought I'd share a few excerpts with you today- out of context and only loosely stitched together.

7/23/13
Stories exist to help us make sense of this jumbled mess we call life. Often I've found myself wishing that life was more like a novel. That I could track my progress like a character arc, and that there would be one defining moment in which everything would miraculously become clear, and I would understand the reason for the challenges and suffering that I had to face in order to get there. But in life, there is no "reason" except to live. Every plateau of self-realization is only temporary before we begin the climb to the next climax, facing new hardships along the way. Each life is a collection of hundreds and hundreds of rising and falling action. We are essentially made up of stories.

7/16/13
From my notebook on May 29, 2013- 5:45 pm: We've been in New York for about four hours now, and if this city does not make you aware of your own insignificance I don't know what else will. From the air it almost doesn't look real- like a toy city or a landscape out of a dystopian novel. Or rather, it looks like you have always seen New York, from the air in movies with the narration of some unknown character coming at you from the television. It is always one voice, one out of so many millions, because it is impossible to listen to everyone's voice at once. In the city of a thousand stories, we only hear one at a time. 

If that is New York from the air, then New York from the ground is the opposite. There are no pristine helicopter shots here, no toy buildings with toy cars. New York from the ground is like being dropped into a jungle. Everything is gritty, tangible, unmistakably real. It's as if the chaos is singing to its own tune, and you have to find the melody and hum along.

4/17/13

I want you to think about a person that you trust. I mean the kind of person you would hoist up onto a ledge to get away from zombies, knowing they they would turn around to help you up, too. Trust is a form of respect. It's saying, I respect you enough to know, with every fiber of my being, that you''ll always tell me the truth. I'm asking you to extend that trust to yourself and your creative endeavors. That doesn't mean that suddenly you will think all of your ideas are perfect, or that that twinge of self doubt will go away. It won't. But you'll know when it's grounded in reality and when it's not. We trust people because they tell us the truth, and you should trust yourself enough to know when an idea isn't working. The important part is that you trust yourself enough to try, even when you are unsure about something. A little uncertainty is natural. Doubt to the point of not going through with it is self destructive.

11/20/12

This was inspired by this post on my friend's blog.

You know what I would love to do? I would love to finally write a novel. I would love for college essays to flow seamlessly from my head onto the page. I want to travel to Ireland and I want to meet interesting people. I want to go to a social event where the person I'm with is not constantly checking their phone. I want to live in a city where people don't mind walking places and where trains are cool again. I wish I could be one of those people who writes obsessively in notebooks and isn't afraid to do sketches and water color paintings in the margins. That, and I want to have a drawing style, so that when people look over my shoulder at some random doodle they will say, "Ooh. That's really good. I like your style!" I want to go to a concert. I'll buy a t-shirt there and wear it to school the next day. I want to express my love of Sherlock and Nerfighteria to everyone I meet, but I'm afraid to for reasons I don't completely understand. I want to meet someone who's read the same books I have. I wonder if we all have a book twin. Maybe there's someone out there who's read the same books as us and we don't even know it, like those twins that were separated at birth but both built benches around trees in their front yard. I want to work at an indie book store somewhere. Or, in the next best scenario, be a "regular" at one. 

I want to have a writing retreat that I can go to whenever I feel like it. Maybe a lake house or a table at a local coffee shop or office space in an abandoned artist's studio or a garage apartment. I'd have a big wooden desk and bookshelves lining the walls and an obscene amount of rugs on the floor.  Better yet, make it an attic studio in Paris or a stone castle in Ireland. Maybe I'll end up in an artists commune out in the dessert and we'll all live in Airstreams and type on antique typewriters while the mountains turn purple behind our heads. Someday, I'll get a brilliant idea while riding on a train.

I hope you enjoyed this little trip through my past! Also before I go, a quick update:

1. I didn't hit 50,000 words during Camp Nanowrimo, but I wrote 16,000 words during the first two and a half weeks before life took over. It was a great experience and one I'd definitely like to try again.
2. I leave for college in just a little over a week! I don't know how much time I will have to blog, but I'm going to do my best!
3. You can now sign up to receive e-mail updates when I make a new post! (Considering the erratic nature of my postings, this could come in very handy ;) Just enter your e-mail address into the box in the top left hand corner of this page.

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you have thoughts on any of the scattered postings above, don't hesitate to leave a comment. 

July: The Month of Finishing

My life right now: I'm in a boat floating in a sea of unfinished things. It's actually my normal state, but this time I'm working towards being finished. And working towards finishing feels a lot better than doing nothing.

So if this blog has been a little sparse lately, that's why. Blogging is something I can always do more of, which is why it's been kind of pushed to the side during my "Month of Finishing," which is what I've just now decided to call July.

Partly to keep you all informed, and partly to keep myself accountable, here's a quick look at what I've been doing/thinking about:

1. First of all, I wanted to say a HUGE thank you to Christopher Gronlund over at The Juggling Writer for writing a truly inspiring post in response to mine about Expectations vs. Reality. He was so sweet regarding my blog and he brought new insight to the points I was making. Thanks Christopher. You really made my day and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond!

2. So...I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo this month, which if you haven't heard, basically consists of trying to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. It's something I've been wanting to do ever since I heard about it several years ago, but never had enough time until this July. If you'd like to keep track of my progress you can see my word count in the left side bar under the typewriter.

3. Reading. I've got so many books I want to read! I'm currently trying to finish my required summer reading, which I am LOVING so far. When a Crocodile Eats the Sun by Peter Godwin is beautifully written and also gripping and scary and emotional. I was totally not expecting that. I'm still not really sure what to expect from this book. I will let you know how it turns out.

4. Collaboration! Ok so my best friend and I are working on something we've been trying to do every summer for the past three or four years. We're going to make a book of our writing and artwork and publish it through Blurb. When it's done, it will be the culmination of not only ten years of friendship but also the result of our creative efforts so far. Scary but exciting.

5. This blog. My New York recap post is sitting half-finished in my drafts folder. I have a list of books I still want to review. You probably won't be hearing from me much this month (I've got a lot on my plate), but as soon as I get some of the larger projects out the way, I really want to devote some time to writing all those posts that have been nagging at me all summer. Stay tuned.

Links:

I don't usually share links like this, mainly because I almost never click on the links other people share when they're in list form. I don't know, maybe I just get overwhelmed. But if you are the kind of person who loves going through link lists, then I hope you'll enjoy this! (I promise, these are worth taking a look at.)

Under All this Noise: On Reclusion, Writing, and Social Media : Awesome, awesome article on what it means to be an author and a recluse in today's society, where the compulsion to share everything is turning into a "business strategy."

What a World : Beautiful, heartbreaking letter from Ken Kesey to his five closest friends after the death of his son. Incredibly sad, yes, but hopeful, too. 

Letters to July: One of my favorite Youtubers is making daily video letters to the month of July. Short, lovely, and good for the soul. While you're on her channel you should also check out her video called "The Secret Life of Things."

The Fishbowl: Where Ideas Swim: My best friend's blog. She has challenged herself to post something every day in July. Go forth, read, and support!

What are you working on this month?

On Expectation vs. Reality

Photo Spread: Ms. Butterfly on Tumblr. Movie: 500 Days of Summer

If anyone knows the feeling that reality never lives up to our expectations, it's writers. We rely on our imaginations to give us story ideas and interesting characters and plot twists, so it's no surprise that we also spend inordinate amounts of time imagining just how great our stories are going to be once they get on the page. Or at least, I do. It's writers who must deal with the constant disappointment of not having the words on the page come even close to the potential the story held when it was just in our heads.

I was talking to my mom about this the other day, and she said something which I thought made a lot of sense. When you think about it, the story in your head doesn't really matter. Sure, that idea is the catalyst for what you put on the page, but its importance pretty much stops there. After that, all that matters is the real story. That's the story that will be worked on and labored over. That's the story that will go through actual critiques and have actual readers. What's the good of clinging to what your story could have been when you have the real one right in front of you?

Of course you can tell yourself this all you want and it won't make up for the fact that the real story will never be as good as the imagined one. But maybe we should stop putting so much emphasis on the imagined story. Maybe we should shelve it in the backs of our minds once it's given us that first spark of inspiration and focus on the task at hand, which is learning to appreciate the real story, and the work that goes into it, even though it will never be the same as the one in our heads. This is all easier said than done. Still, I think it's worth a try. As Maureen Johnson puts it: Dare to suck. I'd also add: Dare to embrace reality. Even if it sucks. A lot.

If this post was helpful or confusing or you have more thoughts on this subject, don't hesitate to leave comment!

Summer Reading

I had so many posts planned for today. I wanted to finally give you a recap of my trip to New York. I wanted to write a response to Stephanie Morrill's post about wether or not teen writers should have a blog. I wanted to review the amazing and perplexing book The Unchangeable Spots of Leopards by Kristopher Jansma. But as I was staring at my newly re-arranged bookshelves, and at the stacks of books still littering my floor, I realized that there was only one post I could write today, and it's largely  for myself. I hope you find it mildly interesting, and I promise to have at least one of the aforementioned posts up by the end of the week. Here, without further ado, is the list of books I want to read this summer.*

1. When a Crocodile Eats the Sun by Peter Godwin (required summer reading)

2. The Magicians by Lev Grossman

3. Ready, Okay! by Adam Cadre

4. You Are One of Them by Elliot Holt

5. The Disappointment Artist by Jonathan Lethem (started)

6. A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories by Flannery O'Connor

7. Seabuiscut by Laura Hillenbrand

8. Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald

9. Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall by Kazuo Ishiguro

10. The Starboard Sea by Amber Dermont

11. Birds of a Lesser Paradise by Megan Mayhew Bergman

* It is completely possible that I will not finish all of these before mid-august, but I'm going to try! 

What books are you reading this summer? No, really. I'd like to know. 

Also, side note: How freaking awesome is it that I actually have time to read anything? I love summer. 

Just Breathe

I leave for New York City in less than a week. LESS THAN A WEEK. In fact I leave next Wednesday. It's been hard not to let that thought worm its way into my brain during every waking moment the past couple of days. To say I'm excited would be a massive understatement. (O_O) But we're going to keep this civilized. Hopefully this post won't devolve into me screaming excitedly from the floor, "I'm going to New York! I'm going to Carnegie Hall! I'm going to NEW YORK!" Right. Deep breaths, Laura.

Recently my twitter feed has been caught in a deluge of tweets from authors saying they are going to be at BEA (BookExpoAmerica, for the uninitiated) in New York City. I just assumed that this huge literary convention would not be happening at the same time as the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, because who would want to make my dreams come true all at once, really? But surprisingly, I was dead wrong. BEA is happening at the SAME TIME that I will be in New York. What's that? You mean all of Laura's favorite authors are going to be descending on the very city that she's visiting at the same time that she's visiting it? That's right. And you bet I'll be looking for them.

But! Before this turns into a creep fest, I actually have a direction for this post! Since so many fantastic writers and book lovers and award winning teens are going to be traveling next week, I thought I'd share a few tips on how to get the most of your experience in any new place:

1. Bring a notebook. I don't care if you don't think you're a writer, or if you've never carried one in your life. Bring it, and write in it. It doesn't have to be big or fancy. You don't have to write a lot. Just write down whatever feels most important. A picture of the Statue of Liberty is one thing, but with iconic features like that you can't truly relive that moment unless you write it down.

2. Resist the urge to share every moment on social media. I know it's tempting, and the occasional tweet, instagram, or facebook update is fine, but you're on vacation! The experiences you have are a million times more meaningful than any Facebook status, no matter how many likes it gets.

3. Don't get distracted by your own ideas. When I'm in a new place it can feel like the neurons in my brain are firing at full speed. Sometimes I'll get several shiny new ideas related to where I am or what I'm working on, and I won't be able to stop thinking about them. But the truth is, those nuggets of genius are a result of your surroundings, and thus probably won't seem so perfect once you're back home. How much can I really know about New York subway tunnels after five days in the city? Certainly not enough to base my new idea for a spy novel off of them, even though it might seem  brilliant while I'm rocketing around underground. (Disclaimer, I'm not actually writing a spy novel.)

4. Instead, just breathe it all in. Don't take away from the experience by trying to create stories around it; just experience it. Write things down not for the sake of writing but for the sake of remembering. There's a great quote that I found recently that applies to this idea: "Observe the wonders as they occur around you. Don't claim them. Feel the artistry move through you and be silent." -Kahlil Gibran

I plan to be as silent possible while in New York, unless of course I happen to spot Neil Gaiman, in which case I'll run up to him and demand that we have coffee and chat about writing or art or something. Fool proof plan, right?

Quote of the Day: The Page

So, I'm writing this from my phone. I'm not sure if that makes me more or less professional... Needless to say I will be thoroughly checking for typos when this is finished, and I apologize for any weird autocorrect problems.

It seems only fitting that after a short hiatus we start at the beginning again. We start with the blank page. I recently ran across this absolutely stunning quote from Annie Dillard's The Writing Life:

"Who will teach me to write? a reader wanted to know. The page, the page, that eternal blankness, the blankness of eternity which you cover slowly, affirming time's scrawl as a right and your daring as necessity; the page, which you cover woodenly, ruining it, but asserting your freedom and power to act, acknowledging that you ruin everything you touch but touching it nevertheless, because acting is better than being here in mere opacity..."

I think writers struggle with the blank page for much the same reason we struggle with uncertainty. That's what it is, isn't it? The uncertainty of not knowing what to write, or if it will be good. The sheer terror of knowing that you are creating something from thin filaments of thought that may not hold up on their own. Everyone has felt dread like a weight in their stomach. Everyone knows what it is to be alone and unsure, staring if not into a blank whiteness, then into a blue sky or a pair of eyes that don't answer back. When I first read this quote, I thought "the page" sounded like a cruel teacher. But then, what is life if not the same thing?

But there is one crucial difference between life and the page. Between all the uncertainty and mystery they both hold, the page is permanent. That is something that life will never be, and maybe that's for the best. I love what Dillard says about ruining everything you touch but touching it anyway. Making art is the act of ruining, of marring something that was once clear and white and beautiful, and only when the ruin turns into beauty can we call it art. I used to get so frustrated when my teachers would pose the "What is art?" question, usually citing one of Duchamp's ready-mades as an example of something that was questionable. I used to think, aren't we done with this question? Haven't we figured this out by now? And what's more, if everyone's interpretation of art is different, then why bother to ask? I still think that "what is art?" is a poor question. I think we can do better than that. I think we should assess our own ideas about art and ruin, about uncertainty and permanence. We should come up with our own questions that have answers that belong only to us. And this leads me to my favorite part of the Annie Dillard quote, which is that she is asking us to choose action over uncertainty, to say yes to ruin. This is the part that I'm still working on. For some reason I've grown comfortable with the uncertainty and the doubt, and I think if I just hold out long enough it will fade to the background. And then, when I do act, I discover again how wonderful it is, and how much better it is than staring at a blank page. This is all still a work in progress, but I'm beginning to be okay with that. I'm beginning to understand that writing is work and that it doesn't always come like it is now, straight from my fingers into this tiny phone keyboard. And yeah, most of what we touch is ruined. But there's always an exception to the rule.