variations of moonlight
Posted on August 27, 2008 - Filed Under Writing
I have previously posted about my severe disappointment that CBS canceled my vampire PI show “Moonlight.” (Moment of silence here, in remembrance of Mick, or in hatred of CBS, fielder’s choice.)
I love getting really involved in a story, which I certainly have done with Moonlight. But lately this one has yielded some unexpected insight on taking apart a story to see what elements provide what effect. The reason for this: (1) the poor thing went through so many iterations, formats, creative visions, and creative people, and, (2) thanks to the wonder of the internet, we have access to them (some of them, anyway). There is the first part of the original novel, by Trevor Munson, upon which the original pilot screenplay was based. And there is the original treatment (20 minutes or so of unconnected scenes from the original screenplay, filmed to get the execs interested) to contrast to the 16 episodes of the show as it aired. For a quickie version of that, here is a promo for the original pilot treatment and a promo for the show as it was finally aired.
What a difference! From a gritty, grim, low-rent New York version, to a glamorous, sexed up, stylish Los Angeles version. To go along with the new look, new aesthetic, and new city, they got an all new cast, retaining only the lead, Alex O’loughlin.
I am fascinated by all of this! The story changed, bit by bit, as it moved through various forces both creative and financial, and who knows what else. So many cooks in the kitchen!
Here is an example of what I mean. In the original version, the vamps see themselves scary-distorted in mirrors. In the final show, they don’t. This detail may have been dropped for financial reasons, for all I know, but the effect in the story of changing this one element, turns out to be important. The problem with vamps and mirrors comes from the idea that the mirror image reveals something integral about the vamp’s nature–the vamp doesn’t show up in mirrors in the old Dracula-style stories because those vampires don’t have souls. In the original version of Moonlight, their mirror image is distorted to show that there is some problem here, the vampire is a distorted creature. In other words, there is some inherent, metaphysical darkness about them. Taking that small element, the weird-mirror-reflection, out of the story, removes, or at least reduces, this question of “are there creatures that are inherently evil?” Is being a vampire a spiritual/moral issue? Or is being a vampire a food-chain issue? In which case it isn’t a moral problem–a BIG difference in the heart of the story at hand.
There are tons of these variables in every story, of course. And each time they changed one in Moonlight, they revealed something about what that variable did in the equation. I think this is so cool.
On a slight tangent, there is talk, at times, of the importance of having an original idea, of not being derivative. No doubt, these are good things. But I’ve also noticed, especially in the glutted vampire genre, that great stories can be told with the same old plots and the same old elements. It would seem that how the elements are used, and how well they are used, may be more important to the effectiveness of the story, than the originality of the elements themselves. Sunshine by Robin McKinley, is a perfect example of a great writer taking the same story, a vampire, a girl, a bad guy to kill, and telling it in a way so fresh and intriguing that it matters not at all that the basic building blocks have been done to the point of embarrassment. I loved reading Sunshine, for many reasons–it’s a great book! Highly recommended. But partly I was interested in it because it affirmed that it less important to be original, as it is to be true.
To go for the big literary example, Pride and Prejudice is just another ‘will she marry the right guy?’ book. But shoot, if I had read a thousand of those and then read P&P, it would still be a revelation. I don’t know, but I would bet, that in the field of literature, if there are any earlier drafts or iterations of P & P available, people have studied and studied them to figure out how she did it, what variables she used, how changing this element or that ricocheted around in the novel, resulting in such an effective story.
At this point, in my own writing, I go ahead and assume I’m being derivative. I just try to do a good job of it.
toys that never stop
Posted on August 21, 2008 - Filed Under Mindful Parenting
We have a mountain of toys. You have only to look at the piles of funky recycled materials on any of the ‘alternative building’ posts to see that Paul has a mania for collecting. And, living where we do, the yard sales are ripe picking for piles of cool-ass toys, all for next to nothing. Our kids don’t know how abundantly they live, nor on what an astonishing shoestring this abundance is visited upon them! Which is just as it should be, if you ask me.
Still, amidst the snow drifts of toys in every corner of the yurt (wait a minute! yurts don’t have corners!), there are some toys that are played with every single day. These toys are not chosen by me out of any philosophy or value on my part. They are just the toys that, through empirical testing, have emerged as the primo toys for 2-5 year olds at our house.
Here, for your enjoyment, is a short list of toys no yurt should be without:
Play Silks
I bought a set of seven silks for Sophie when she turned two and they have been in DAILY use ever since. They are the perfect toy. Costumes, baby carriers, doll blankets, capes, hammocks, forts, curtains, ocean waters, they can be everything. Ours are getting rather ragged and faded, actually. Maybe it is the lovely appealing colors and the soft texture combined with the versatility of simple squares of floaty fabric, but whatever it is, play silks are pure toy magic.
Stacking Cups
Okay, these don’t look like much, and I would never have thought they were all that, but, dang if these cups haven’t been used every day for something. Not stacking. Stacking was only fun for five minutes or so. But as brightly colored cups, some with holes and some without, that fit into each other…cups for tea parties, bathtubs for mini-dinos, Mommy I made you some coffee, tub toys, sand toys, musical instruments. Just the morning Sophie filled one with raisins and said it was a bird feeder–Luc was the bird. In fact, he had a play silk for wings. We’ve lost the big purple cup but the rest have hung on, miraculously, for years.
Wooden Blocks
Paul adores blocks. I think it is a fetish item for him. As a result, any building toy at a yard sale gets snapped up. We’ve got legos, big wooden blocks (like the picture), little wooden blocks, colored foam blocks, tiny painted wooden blocks, circle things that click together, I could go on and on. Of all of these, the basic wooden blocks get the most play around here. There is always some castle or house or dino barn or road or bridge in the works over by the block tub. The legos are a close second, but they go through phases with those. The wooden blocks, though, those are every day.
Art Supplies
Crayons, colored pencils, pastels, water color paint, poster paint, construction paper, glitter glue, scissors, mountains of tape, play doh, fancy hole punches, stickers, chalk. Every day an array of pictures, sculptures, crafts, cards, collages, and projects flows out of them. It’s awesome. They have no hesitation, no fear about quality, no negative voices in their heads telling them to do something ‘more important.’ Art supplies for kids are so cheap, I try to keep huge amounts on-hand so that there is no fear of running out, and no premium on anything. If Sophie wants to use half a roll of tape on a pair of binoculars, cool. A roll of tape is a buck. Go for it, kiddo. Yesterday they had a ball, Sophie cutting up a dozen pieces of construction paper into different shapes and Luc gluing them down into funny pictures. Oh, the mess,you have no idea. And, by the end, one of the wooden blocks from the nearby tub was glued to the floor. You haven’t lived till you’ve glued a wooden block to the floor. (Don’t worry, I knocked it off with a hammer. No harm done.)
The Sandbox
Here is one of our sandboxes. The other is the sand pile for building purposes (mixing into concrete mortar mix) and right now it is full of dinosaurs, barns, farm animals, shovels, bull dozers, dump-trucks, etc. Sand is endlessly entertaining. They love to play in the sand pile while Paul works nearby. It becomes anything, which seems to be the center characteristic of the Daily Play Toys.
Little People
Here is two year old Sophie putting little people to bed. In a recent post I wrote about the endless configurations of animals and dinosaurs I find set up around here. Figurines, plastic animals, Barbies, dinosaurs–every day these small people get used to enact endless dramas. We probably have hundreds of different small creatures and people. They probably have parties at night when we are all asleep. Hey, why don’t I get invited to those?
There are a few other items in daily use such as the computer, the pillows off the sofa, the dress-up clothes, the television, and the woods. But this, surprisingly short list, pretty much covers 70% of the stuff they play with each day. I wonder when they will grow out of those stacking cups? Looking at my own drawer of sarongs and scarves, I wonder if play silks ever go out of style?
The items that have floated to the top of the toy tide and stayed there for years, seem to be the items with the most flexibility to enter into the game at hand, rather than dictating the game by the toy’s own parameters.
But the short-term toys are great, too. Toys with a few uses, puzzles good for a couple of gos—lots of toys are the item of the week and then pass into the ‘been there, done that’ category. And that’s cool. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, daily use toys, versus single use (or a a few weeks) toys. And with used toys so cheap, having a constant flow, in and out, of destructible toys is great.
Luc was totally into the batmobile last week, this massive hunk of molded black plastic with pop-up guns and turrets and I don’t even know what. He was shooting bad guys for days, having a blast. And now it’s off under the bed somewhere. It was a great batmobile week! I wouldn’t have missed it. And now, he’s building blocks for a plastic mouse and a stuffed lizard, who, it looks like, are eating out of a stacking cup.
Batmobile for a while, and then back to the basics.
i am not an alien
Posted on August 20, 2008 - Filed Under Everything Else
I am not an alien, but man, I sure feel like one this morning. I had weird dreams all night and then, this morning, walking around the yurt, I had the distinct impression that I was really an alien consciousness, beaming into this life as some kind of extreme vacation or training program for…something. I could see the props–legos, cereal box, dirty dishes–and I knew what to do. I had been prepped for this. But I also knew that this was not my real life. Even now, they’re probably scurrying around, screaming “tech support!” because it is not supposed to be noticeable to the host body that she has been taken over….
how to build a yurt (10 of 10)
Posted on August 16, 2008 - Filed Under Alternative Building
I just realized I never finished posting the yurt raising pictures. Here is the last page, plus a bonus page of yurt interior shots, from that day.
This picture shows the last part, installing the walls. The interior panels have canvas on one side and insulation (the silver stuff) on the other side–you can see those going up on the upper left. Over that layer goes the super tough exterior fabric, that’s the brown/green panels. The windows are clear vinyl. In the bottom center shot you can see that when we started putting up the walls, we were putting them on inside out! Ooops. Re-do. We were the blind leading the blind.
But at the end of the day, it was accomplished.
Look at everyone, collapsed and drinking beer. Good work! I can’t believe Sophie was ever that small. You can see me, the preggo lady with the camera, in the center, looking out of the door that hasn’t had the fabric tucked in and screwed down yet. At the beginning of the day, there had been a platform, and at the end of the day there was a 700 square foot structure, ready for the next phase of turning it into a home.
And what was the next phase? Electrical, plumbing, cabinets and appliances for the kitchen, the giant bookcase/room divider and closets, the chimney for the propane heater. Etc. Despite Paul busting his bum to get it ready to move in to before Luc was born, we didn’t quite make it, by about three weeks. He was born in late October, and we got our certificate of occupancy mid-November. Whew. By Thanksgiving, we were living in our yurt, heads spinning from all the change in our lives.
But on this day in late May, the yurt was up. Pow. An old fashioned barn raising. I can never thank our family and friends enough for coming out that day!
And that’s how you build a yurt.
food of the gods
Posted on August 14, 2008 - Filed Under Honeymilk Farm
I saw Tom Robbins speak one time–what a cool guy!–and though much of the evening has faded, I do remember him declaring mayonnaise the food of the gods. I have to agree. And since, lately, our chickens have far outpaced us in terms of egg production vs. egg consumption (I think there are about 40 eggs in the fridge right now, we’ve two dozen to give away this afternoon!), I’ve been trying to think up new ways to use them. So, today, when I wanted a chicken sandwich for lunch and found only a jar of Reduced-Fat mayo, purchased by my husband–WHAT was he thinking?!–I decided to make some of my own mayonnaise with some of our chicken eggs.
As an aside, my husband has the kind of sense of humor that goes through periods where the predominant audience response (the audience in question being me) is not laughter, so much, as this kind of long suffering, “Oh, Brother.” I was making this facial expression so much, at one point, that I was starting to fear getting “Oh, Brother” wrinkles. A moment’s consideration found the solution. Instead of making the “Oh, Brother” face, I would just say “One” and that would be the wrinkle-saving code hence forth. “One” was quickly followed by “Two,” code for “I’d rather shoot myself,” and “Three,” code for “I don’t have TIME to explain what is wrong with that [fill in the blank, such as, say, a sweater vest, or repotting plants on the sofa].” It’ such a time saver! Reduced-fat mayo got a “One,” a “Two, AND a “Three.” See? No exasperation wrinkles! When I’m eighty I’ll look like I lived a blissful, relaxed existence.
Okay, back to the mayo. It’s so easy! And here is the reason you should make your own, even if you don’t have a surplus egg problem. You have to beat the crap out of it with a whisk, using way more calories then you would merely opening a jar, thus obliterating all guilt from one’s mayo. Isn’t that cool?
Here’s how you do it. You take an egg yolk. You add a tablespoon of lemon juice, and a 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Whisk. Then, sloooowly, drop by drop, you add about 1/2-3/4 cup of oil. Something bland, like peanut. All of these proportions are changeable, depending on your preferences for the final mayo flavor. Some people add a little cayenne, or mustard, or vinegar (as part of the lemon juice measurement). Each drop of oil gets whisked into the eggs, creating an emulsion. Make sure each drop of oil is totally absorbed before adding the next. Once you get a good flow, you can kind of trickle in the oil, so it isn’t as slow as I’m making it sound. The above quantities take about ten minutes to mix. And then you get this:
Those are Sophie’s toes in the background. “Mommy, why are you taking a picture of the mayo? I thought you were going to make us a chicken sandwich?” Ahem. Our mayo is really yellow because our chickens eat lots of grass and bugs, creating extremely colorful yolks. Also, I think the store bought stuff uses the egg whites as well, which dilutes the yellow color. After it’s all mixed, you can keep it in the fridge for a couple of weeks. This is this cute jar that the Nuttella comes in (okay, not Nutella but some all-natural version that I get at Whole Foods). I am totally addicted to Nuttella on my toast in the morning. I mean, if you can have chocolate for breakfast, why have anything else?
The flavor of home made mayonnaise is really surprising, bright and fresh. It’s hard to describe why fresh food tastes better until you’ve had some. One of the huge benefits of having a micro-farm is milk and eggs that were in the goat and chicken, respectively, that morning. Now that’s fresh! Anyway, my chicken sandwich was fabulous. In case you were wondering.
best 20 bucks I spent all week
Posted on August 11, 2008 - Filed Under Everything Else, Mindful Parenting
That’s Sophie the Brave on the huge horse! Can you believe it?
When she saw how big Carmen (that’s the horse) was, she said, in this tiny voice, “Mommy, I was thinking maybe a smaller horse would be better.” But Anne, the instructor, said Carmen was the most gentle of all the horses, and Sophie petted her on the nose, and after that it was love.
Here is the very first minute she was up there:
You can’t see it but she has this tiny, closed-lipped smile on that she gets when she is really excited but holding it all in. Anne was great, calm and patient. She showed Sophie “Walk!” and “Whoa!”, how to turn, how to stand in the stirrups, how to hold her feet, and how to hold the reins. Sophie played it all cool until she got off the horse and then she did this ecstatic dance, giggling like a little maniac, saying, “Anne said next time I can ride her on my own!” She was SO HAPPY.
Next week, the Olympics!
And here is Luc, still too small to actually ride, but he was THRILLED to get in the saddle for a minute:
I’m telling you, for twenty bucks I got to give someone a lifetime happy memory! What a rush! I feel so powerful!
fowl weather friends
Posted on August 10, 2008 - Filed Under Honeymilk Farm
You may recall that of our five guinea chicks, only one survived the unknown-guinea-eating-monster attack. We were quite concerned about our lone guinea. Would the chickens shun her? Attack her? Could she find a place among them or would she be on her own–not a good situation for a flock-loving-critter such as herself.
Little could we have guessed that Whitey would take the little guinea under her wing. Here they are, hanging out:
Where one goes, the other goes. At night they roost next to each other up on the top rung in the chicken house. Unlike chickens, it is extremely difficult to tell if a guinea is a boy or a girl, so I’m not really sure of the nature of their relationship. Parental? Best friends? Mad hot chicken love?
Here they are looking at me looking at them.
They’re saying, “What the heck are you doing?” Looks like our lone guinea is going to be all right after all.
remains of the play
Posted on August 9, 2008 - Filed Under Mindful Parenting
There is a benefit to not cleaning everything up right away. The kids do their thing, play their games, and move on to another location, leaving these cool tableaus behind. Usually I know what they are about, but if I’ve been focused on something else, I might come across little scenes that are a complete mystery. Sometimes, if I ask, the kids will tell me these elaborate stories, often resulting in more play with that particular scenario. Other times, they can’t remember, or are too busy to bother filling me in. Sometimes I take pictures.
Here’s one I found this morning.
And from the back:
I wonder what it is? An army set to attack? An audience for a performance now gone? A line waiting for lunch?
Here’s another:
This one is like a parade. Only I think the red and blue lego creations were cakes. So maybe a giant dinosaur birthday party?
Here’s a mysterious one:
I have no idea about this one. Was the frog, to the left, part of the scene? It’s like they are swimmers, about to dive in to a pool for a race. Or maybe space dinosaurs, about to be beamed up.
Here are a few I caught while they were still being set up:
This one is a honeycomb, with white daisies, and the shapes on the right are the bees.
This one was a tea party. I like the two cows on the left, vegetarian solidarity in such carnivorous company.
I don’t know if you can see it, but each of these unfortunate dinosaurs is extensively bandaged with tape. This was the remains from an episode of Dinosaur Hospital.
The kids have been doing this since they could lift the toys. Here is one of 1 year old Luc, feeding a large group of critters. He’s so conscientious with his friends, making sure they all get what the need…
I don’t know what the one below is, but I think it was a costume party. Several of the dinosaurs are wearing other dinosaurs, like masks.
And I’ll leave you with a hilarious one I came across one morning, during the time when Luc was figuring out the whole ‘pee goes in the potty’ issue:
Sometimes I look at the mountains of toys left out, at these elaborate scenes and I groan, oh god, more mess to clean up. Toys everywhere! Why don’t they ever clean up after themselves? But man, when I do that, I’m missing out. It’s so interesting to see into their minds and lives in this way. They are such cool little people! Usually I can remember that I’d rather be in relationship with them, then have a clean yurt. Both of them are playing right now. I wonder what they’ll leave behind…
in which i become a redhead
Posted on August 5, 2008 - Filed Under Everything Else
I love red hair. I love the real stuff, the stuff you see on those lucky Irish gals, the lush curls, all of it. But I also adore the fake stuff. Like this
That is Franka Potente in the fabulous “Run Lola Run.” What? You haven’t see it? Get thee to your netflix queue at once! And be sure to get the subtitled version, yes, it’s German, stop whining, NOT the dubbed version, which sucks. It’s one of my favorite movies, ever.
I adore the bozo, bright red, crazy punk hair. Here’s some more:
Tori Amos
Robin Wright Penn in the lovely “At Home at the End of the World”
Milla Jovovich as Leeloo in “The Fifth Element”
Jennifer Garner in the 1st ep of “Alias”
Isn’t it grand?
These gals are all worldclass beauties–I’ve never had the guts to go for the full Run Lola Run look because, well, I live where I live and I’ve had the jobs that I’ve had, but also I just don’t think I’m pretty enough, you know? I think it would be more bozo and less punk-sexy on me. Sigh. Sometimes you just have to face the facts.
On the other hand, screw it. It’s my hair, right? I had this friend for a while, a fabulous woman, 60 years old, had just gotten her black belt in karate (she started when she was 50), incredibly elegant in these slinky white dresses and HIGH heels wherever she went. And SHE had the full on REDREDRED hair. Oh man, I loved it. If she can do it, maybe one day I’ll get the courage.
But you know, I’m also Ms. Natural about most things and you don’t exactly get Run Lola Run hair without ponying up for the industrial strength chemicals. So, my compromise, both in toning down the punk and the cancer-risk, is henna.
No, not that crap henna mixed with who knows what you can get at the health food store. The REAL henna. Body art quality henna. I get mine from Mehadi.com , this really cool site with everything you could ever possibly want to know about henna, the tattoos, for hair, medicinal purposes, all of it. Pure, intense dye content, henna from Yemen. Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Anyway, this weekend, my cousin and I went for it.
You mix the henna powder the night before with lemon juice and let it sit until the dye is released from the crushed henna leaves. At that point it looks like this:
You glop it on, thick, like making mud patties. It’s really messy, you just have to go with it. Gloves help, because the henna will stain your hands pretty much on contact. Here’s what it looks like glopped on:
You leave it on as long as you want. My cousin waited about 45 minutes. I left it on a couple of hours. Some people sleep in it. No, I will not torture you with a photo of me with a plastic bag on my head.
Here are my cousin’s before and after shots:
Here are mine:
Woohoo! I mean, it’s not Run Lola Run hair, but it’s pretty freaking red. Now I need some combat boots and a gun.
So, a little later, the kids and I are playing outside and I am designated, by Luc, as The Monster. Then he changes it to “The Red Haired Monster.” And then Sophie runs inside and makes this sign for the door of thier fort:
The International No Red Haired Monsters Sign.
That’s me. Rawr!
hurts so good
Posted on August 3, 2008 - Filed Under Writing
I was reading some work by a writer friend of mine last night and was just totally blown away by what she had done. Deep, complex characterizations that took third-person-deep-penetration to a whole new level. One character in particular exploded off that page for me, so fascinating, with this huge history, woven in cleanly, no sense of exposition, no info-dump, no telling. Action sequences that rocked me, conversations that were at times moving, at times hilarious. Plots that had no holes. I’m telling you, I was drinking it in like water.
Well, I mean, I was drinking it in like water in-between moments of eye-peeling shame at my own comparatively pathetic attempts. Ha! Oh, the self torture! Our work is similar enough that comparison is easy and inevitable–and strangely salutary. Yes, it’s deadly to compare one’s own work to some master at the height of their particular zenith. It’s dangerous, too, (though oh, so, tempting to the ego) to compare one’s stuff to those whose craft or talent or whateverthefuck is proving considerably less effective in producing the desired impact in the reader then one’s own. And it’s pointless to compare when it’s apples and oranges. BUT. When someone’s work is fairly evenly matched in various important criteria, and said someone’s work blows one’s own stuff out of the water in various ways…well. Learning happens. In between bashing my head against the desk and crawling under the bed in twitching embarrassment, that is.
All of which is to say, that, wow, I just read this really good stuff and I dreamed about it all night and now I’m rethinking whole sections of my current novel-in-progress and I LOVE it when this happens. Even though it kind of hurts.
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