soroboruo: Assassin’s Creed 2 released last week, on the 17th of November. Developed by Ubisoft, it is a noteworthy follow up to the first game which came out roughly two years ago. This game was supposed to have an actual ending, and all the preview buzz mentions new combat innovations like disarming opponents and new assassination techniques. How does the game fare?

I came away from the game impressed. This is clearly going to be something of a trilogy, as the ending to the second game offers more closure than the first, but still ends on the tired “There is an evil greater than all of us that we must stop” note. The plot, while mildly interesting, quickly devolves from an entertaining conspiracy theory to a pseudoscientific jaunt to the origin of the species. I’m allowed to keep playing after I’ve completed the game, and Ubisoft even went and wrote in a plot device that explains why I can do so, as flimsy as it is.

The biggest and most common complaint about the first game was that it quickly became repetitive. This was in part due to the way story advancement was handled, as it required a certain amount of side missions done in order to continue. There were only three different types of missions to do: beatings, eavesdropping, and assassination. For the second game, all the side missions have been made optional, and they did away with the eavesdropping ones replacing them with courier missions and races. Courier and race side missions are centered around the free-running aspect of the game, asking you to deliver messages across town or run through several checkpoints as quickly as possible. The assassination missions are still my favorite, tasking you with killing targets, but this time around they’ve added interesting restrictions like no weapons, or no alerts. The beat up missions are still as mundane as ever, asking you to locate a target and punch him until he surrenders. The courier and beat up missions seem out of place, as an elite assassin would probably not take time out of his day to run a race or beat up a cheating husband.

There are also several sets of collectibles: feathers, codex pages, and glyphs. The feathers take the place of the flags from the first game, and are usually acquired by doing some impressive climbing or free running. The glyphs were my favorite, as finding usually led to some sort of puzzle or brainteaser. The glyphs were left behind by the same person who painted all over the walls at the end of the first game, and finding all of them treats the player to an incredibly ridiculous side story. Not the reward I was expecting, but the process of getting there was pretty entertaining. Lastly, there are codex pages. Finding four of them grants the player a health boost, and while seemingly optional in the beginning, acquiring all of them becomes mandatory in the last hour of the game. They provide some depth and information about the character from the last game, Altair, and are an interesting read.

The addition of an economic system makes for an interesting side venture, but ultimately fails to serve its purpose. The game grants you a family villa about an hour into the game, letting you determine how you want to upgrade it and the surrounding township. Money in the beginning is a bit scarce, but if you concentrated on putting money into the town, it will generate more revenue, which you can then use for the next set of improvements. After a few hours, the income becomes far greater than the expenses, and money becomes near useless. You’d have bought all the weapons with ease, and when they periodically release new armor pieces, you can afford most of it without worrying about what you have left.

Combat is pretty fun, since you can disarm opponents and use their weapons against them. It is hinted throughout the game that this is the optimal way to deal with combat. Unfortunately combat quirks from the first game remain, so counters and dodges are still just as effective as before, and coupled with the new disarm move, it distills and dulls the rhythm based combat. Towards the end of the game, I was much lazier, and didn’t really want to go into combat as often, so I primarily stuck to the projectile weapons, taking enemies out from afar. Up close, smoke bombs and dual hidden blades did all the work. Maybe I’m just not playing the game right.

There are extended free-running sections added to the game, and for some reason Ubisoft decided to label them “riddles” and they’re solved by reaching a lever or button before the timer runs out. These sections are tedious and often frustrating because of the imprecise controls. For the most part, the game does the thinking for you, and will jump to the appropriate ledge or perform the appropriate action. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to do. I’d say there’s a 50-50 chance that if I decided to jump for a post, Ezio would either get to it or he would decide that it is better to jump into empty space. When precise platforming is required, especially in the multitude of timed segments in the game, the controls become a source of frustration and expletive inducing stress.

The game is actually pretty linear, as the assassinations are no longer a result of the player’s setup and “research” like in the first game. Each plot point lays out the target and pretty much walks to the player through the process, leaving very little room for improvisation. Another odd point is that the game doles out achievements left and right for the first few minutes of playing, which seems unnecessary.

The game is not bad at all, but I cannot find much replay value in it. All I really do is go around and kill guards anyways, so perhaps someone else would find more to do after the game is done. The game fixes most of the issues with the first game, although not without adding a few minor ones of its own. Ultimately, it feels like what the first game should have been.

vivian:
some girl is trying to get revenge on my brother. not sure why. we spend the entire dream kind of trying to escape her. or maybe it’s not revenge; maybe she is trying to stop him in his tracks so he won’t do something. don’t remember. all i remember is the last part of the dream although the dream itself was massively long. we were trying to escape her and were in a pool (?), and i guess everything she did was futile (by the way, i think “she” was freaking jennifer aniston), and we’d basically come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t actually be able to stop him. but finally, she says she has a secret weapon, and her secret weapon is this giant green laser. the pool we’re at is like, surrounded by people, and when she pulls it out, everyone kind of gasps. green lasers are kind of weird in real life because some of them have been designed to be so strong that they can make people go blind or they can shoot into the sky for what seems like infinitey. anyway. this particular green laser was bigger than those laser pointers and yet another degree removed, because it could cut people in half, apparently. so. she pulls this green laser weapon out, and we’re like, “oh shit!” and dive towards the bottom of the swimming pool and try to stay there because the lasers are refracted by the water. as i was down there, it seemed like someone — i think my mom, although she was like a white lady, i think — had her voice in my head. it was like she was talking to me psychically, but the things she was saying sounded like thoughts coming straight from her head as opposed to things she was saying to me personally. weird. anyway, the voice was like, hoping i would stay down there because who knows where jennifer aniston would shine the laser and she didn’t want me to be hit by it and cut in half!

anyway, the dream ends there kind of, but then part two shows up. part two is like… the beginning of a new movie, whereas the end of the laser thing (although it doesn’t reach a real conclusion it seems) is the end of the first movie. in the new movie, i’m watching third-person ish, like i’m watching a movie. andy chen and someone else are in a kitchen, and they’re washing dishes. my feet touch the floor of the kitchen and it’s like mud; i’m not really there, i don’t think, because they don’t notice me. they’re talking and saying, “every time we move into a new place, it’s so dirty.” the end.

inspiration: walked by a club with green lasers (like you’d see at a rave) shooting out of its doorway, and i thought it was scary case those things are scary (some green lasers made people go blind at a rave in russia, ha).

I hate being forced to write in the third person, and this article I wrote on why teachers should have a statement of teaching philosophy is no exception. When writing a “how-to” or “why” article, I’d much rather be able to address my audience personally.

At any rate, I think a statement of teaching philosophy is one of the hardest things to write because it forces you as a teacher to turn a critical eye on yourself and what you do. And that’s not always easy. And I think sometimes when we ask ourselves why we do what we do, we don’t always like the answers.

And then once you have those answers, of course, you have to ground all of it in some fancy theory-talk. Fun.

I applied for a job not too long ago for which I had to submit a statement of teaching philosophy. So I went back to one that I’d written nearly ten years ago, and I found that most of it was either outdated or not applicable to the position to which I was applying. So I had to start from scratch, and I agonized over it for days before I finally came up with something that seemed acceptable to me.

I didn’t get the job.

At crew yesterday we were practicing scene changes. Since I am Stage Manager I get to wear the headset. To the average person who is not in crew wearing the headset may seem arbitrary but to people who are in crew, it’s a big deal. So whenever I need to step away from my post for a while I give the headset to the person who is standing closest to me. When I handed the headset to HIM, he decided that he wanted to wear it for a while and I didn’t mind because I needed a break from all the voices that were yapping in my ear. At some point during the fourth act, one of the lighting people came backstage to check some of the outlets. She needed me to tell the lighting designer sitting in the booth the status of outlets 109 to 112. She was saying so many things that I decided that it would be better if I gave her the headset and she told the lighting designer herself. Unfortunately, HIM decided that he was not going to relinquish the headset no matter what.

 ME: Can you please give her the headset?

 HIM: Her? No. I will not give her the headset because she is talking in third person. I hate it when people talk in the third person because I think it sounds pretentious.

 ME: I didn’t mean me. I actually meant her. Why would I talk in the third person?

 HIM: Oh.

 ~~**LEARN**~~

I assume that most people who read this will already know about the three different points of view. That said, most people don’t know much about them other than that first person is told from a character’s perspective, no one should use the second person ever, and the third person uses a narrator, either inside or outside the story. This information is all true, but it doesn’t tell us much about how to write from any of these perspectives. Without thinking about it, most writers default to the third person, erring on the side of omniscience. This is a habit, and like any habit, it should be broken, or at least harnessed so that it is only used in the situations that call for it. I’m starting with third person mostly so I can point out  the common pitfalls I have seen writers fall into when they use it carelessly.

First, why do writers default to the third person? For some, it enables them to use their own voice to tell the story, rather than a particular character’s. This saves them the effort of having to really understand their characters at a complex level, in order to understand how their character would tell their own story. Also, I think writer’s drift towards the third person because it gives them greater freedom to tell their story from multiple vantage points. Lastly, people drift towards the third person because it is the point of view of film, where we can’t literally see through the eyes of another. I think that writers have a tendency to think of stories from the perspective of film, because it is a convenient and common, modern type of storytelling.

All in all, none of these things are necessarily bad. That said, the real benefits of this perspective are often neglected, and when an alternative point of view might serve the story better, writers are reluctant to use it because they have not practiced any form other than third person.

One of the primary advantages of third person is that it allows the author to move between different characters in the storyline much more easily than one can in first person. This opportunity is wasted when writers only follow one character through the story. This is pointless. If you are going to use the third person, move around. Examine different characters, explore the setting without being tied to a particular voice and point in space. Most writers don’t actually use the freedom that third person allows.

Along related lines, when the writer uses third person to follow a single character, they often feel the need to narrate that character’s thoughts. I consider this the cardinal sin of the third person, because that is not what third person is particularly good at! Third person is very good at describing action, setting, and character interactions. It is not good at showing what is happening internally in a character. If you aren’t going to take advantage of the strengths of third person, while trying to convey all of the information that is easily accessible in first person, why bother with third person in the first place?

In fact, this distance is one of the great strengths of the third person, which, again, goes underutilized. Readers shouldn’t be privy to everything within a character if someone is using the third person. Some writers might argue here that if you are using an omniscient narrator, then the reader can be privy to anything the writer wants them to be privy to. For this very reason, I urge writers away from the omniscient narrator. More often than not, when the omniscient narrator is handled poorly, which it often is, it creates a dull, lifeless story without any sense of mystery or suspense. This should obviously be avoided, because it undermines the entire goal of any story, that is, to keep the reader turning the pages.

In summary, if you are going to write in the third person, you might as well take advantage of everything the perspective can do. Move your narrative focal point and maintain a distance between the reader and the characters. If you don’t want to do that in a particular story, consider whether first person might be a better choice. However, don’t write in second person. Please, please, never ever write in the second person.

Exercise: Take a piece you wrote in the third person, choose a scene and sequel in it, and rewrite them, changing the perspective to either third person, but focused on another character, or first person of the character you are focusing on most. Does either of these perspectives reveal aspects of your story you hadn’t thought about before?

That is indeed the question. From my recent perusal of the internet, I know that it plagues a lot of writers. Writers, readers, agents, and editors can all have varying and strident opinions on the topic.

Now I wander into the swamp as I try to decide if I should switch from third to first person. The current draft of the novel is written in tight third. That would make the change less complicated. I’m concerned about avoiding the overuse of “I” and related words. My interest in switching comes from concerns for my main character. She’s flat in third person. It’s not her fault, it’s mine. Her husband, who is the true focus of the story, takes over. I need to give her a voice and let her speak for herself.

Out of curiosity, I grabbed 8 of my favorite books from the shelve for an informal survey of narrative voice.  I looked specifically for books that plugged in to my emotions. The results surprised me.

First person, past tense – 3 (The Year of Magical Thinking, Silence in October, and A Man of No Moon) The first two are in some respects the most lyrical books I have read in the past two years.

First person, present tense – 2 (And When Did You Last See Your Father?, The Time Traveler’s Wife)

Third person, past - 2 (Happiness Sold Separately, Say When)

Mixed (Third past, first present) – 1 (Blue Diary)

The number of books that were written in present tense shocked me. It’s something I hadn’t considered doing. Writing in third person, past tense comes naturally. I have had a few characters desperate to speak for themselves, but when they do, it’s always been past tense.

Though the results of my survey were quite mixed, I feel they vindicate my intent to attempt to rewrite the novel in first person. The Year of Magical Thinking was a huge inspiration for my work. Certain passages in it and in Silence in October are the kind of writing that I hope to be able to create.

Wish me luck.

I’ve been avoiding the page again.  The office life is uninspiring.  It took me a whole two weeks to write this, sentence by painful sentence.  And I agonized, thought too hard: I don’t have an ending yet, I can’t post this.  I don’t even know where I’m going with it. 

Today I let go so maybe I can move on to something else.

*

Look around, Sasha Lind: Everyone is staring at you.

Every esteemed CEO and top dog and their invited guest, all the dinner staff and waiters and even chefs peeking out from the kitchen into the banquet hall of Hartwell hotel have their eyes on table 34 where Sasha Lind sits.  She is wearing her cousin’s floor-length teal dress, half a size too big for her but she has never had the need for a fancy gown before this event.  She touches the polished plaque, on the table in front of her.  Perhaps she can give it back.  But how to decline an award like this?  Walk up to the stage, plush carpet and high heels, the blister forming on her sole, don’t trip head up ass in for the love of god don’t cry, it was hard enough doing it the first time but now, just to put the plaque back on the podium and run away so they can all laugh as one, or worse, feel pity; she can’t do it.

She stares at the award.  It’s hers, her name already engraved into the gold plate.  They can’t ask her to give something like this up.  But no one is asking her to, not out loud.  They are wishing she would.  Later they will get together in their circles, by the water cooler, in New York, Anaheim, Kansas City, Chicago, St. Paul, and they will say: How embarassing.  Everyone knows she didn’t deserve to win. 

Freeze frame for ten agonizing seconds, then snap! and the spell breaks.  People begin to move around her again, mutter, sip their chardonnay.  It’s almost time to go home now, time to take off the teal dress and all that makeup, but first the closing remarks.  Sasha sits squeezing her husband’s hand, Mr. Elijah Whitney (she had wanted to take his name when they were married, but even then she was one of the leading figures in her industry, and not just among women.  They told her, you can’t change your name now Sasha Lind, you’re known).  He looks at her, such kind eyes, she doesn’t mind him staring as long as he’s the only one.  Elijah leans over to whisper in her ear, “We can leave, if you like.  It’s okay.”

How much she would give to walk out right now, the elephant in the room tiptoeing behind her.  Sasha smiles, tight lips, shakes her head.  It won’t do to draw even more attention to her.  She’d rather slip out unnoticed while the other guests mingle, kiss cheeks, more wine and hors d’œuvre by the platter.

Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino…(This is all the review is going to contain)…

Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino, Tarantino…

Okay, I’ll stop now.

With crossovers a-plenty and a borderline obscene amount of movie tie-ins is it any wonder that contemporary games are trying their utmost to be more captivating and engaging by utilising filmic methods and techniques? WET, however, seems to take this about three steps further by seemingly attempting to be a film, trying to be a game, trying to be a film.

It’s not based on a film (though there are veiled allusions to certain genres – homages if you will) but one could easily mistake the notion that it does relate to some kind of cinematic counterpart. You can even imagine a Guy Ricthie style trailer for it. Maybe that’s just the fault of the gaming industry for releasing so many tie-ins that it’s just automatic to think that way.

WET (or at least the demo anyway) smacks of 1970’s nostalgia with a grainy filter to give it that crackly, worn look that accompanies old films, complete with an equally retro soundtrack that has caused many afros over the years.

Rubi: "Fuck you Uma Thurman!"

The protagonist, Rubi, is what you expect a female game character to be like in a culture ruled by patriarchal values. So no doubt words like “sassy”, “independent”, “Lara Croft” and “bad ass” are currently working their way through your grey matter right now. Although having said that, the term “bad ass” generally applies to both genders.

The Lone Ranger-style hero has been a staple of third and first-person games for years so Rubi’s individual stance as a trigger-happy, sword-carrying, wall-jumping assassin-for-hire doesn’t really come as a surprise. As a character who begins her mornings by running up walls and shooting drug barons in the face before she sits down to her Shredded Wheat it just seems to be the norm to have her “bad ass”.

I mean, even Gordon Freeman (of Half-Life fame) developed an uncanny ability to fire military and alien weapons despite his background as a mere scientist.

Rubi seems to encompass a sort of melding of Eastern and Western styles of violence and action. Her two pistols, which she keeps in holsters on each side of her hip, is an obvious reference to the Old West era of cowboys and sheriffs and what-have-you (with a particular nod towards spaghetti Westerns films). While her Japanese sword (and equally oriental tattoos on her arm) represents more Eastern-styles of fighting.

And with her twin pistols technique, and acrobatic skill there is perhaps something of a cross between Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft (a Western icon) and Mirror’s Edge’s Faith (a character designed to look more Asian) in there as well.

Anyway, enough of all this pretentious look-at-me-I-know-about-stuff bollocks and let’s have a look at the demo.

It begins with a drug deal that goes awry. Don’t they always! Why can’t dealers and gangsters conduct their business transactions in a more neutral manner? Haven’t they heard of Fed-Ex?

When the situation gets out of hand (i.e. people die), guess who’s job it is to intervene and stop the bad guy from escaping via means of a bloody shoot-out? No, not Spiderman. Why would you even say that?

Like a lot of games of this style and complexity the opening sequences feature in-game tutorials to help the player become acquainted with the controls and techniques. You can’t help but feel a little sorry for the goons that get sent out in these sections. They are basically cannon-fodder that serve to make your first few kills as effortless as possible.

The game has chosen to include bullet-time, not merely as a novelty feature like in Max Payne but as something of a necessity (read: pain in the arse). Running and shooting just doesn’t cut it now so the game has developed a technique that allows you to jump and fire at enemies using both guns to aim at two different targets. A neat feature that no doubt becomes a little easier as the game progresses but it seems a little sloppy from the outset.

To add variation to fight sequences Rubi can also fire while sliding along her knees like some ecstatic footballer in a Jet Li film. And she can run along walls. And hang upside from ladders. As many high brow publications would say: “Bitch got moves, yo.” Each jump/slide motion automatically triggers the bullet-time giving a much easier chance of successfully slaughtering villains.

It makes me wonder why the need to be able to shoot both guns individually arose in the first place. Maybe all will be revealed in later levels but from my experience enemies can be disposed of quite easily when in slow-motion so this technique – killing off two enemies at the same time, handy though it may be – just seems to look cool and slick.

I’m going to go ahead and say this: but there’s something Freudian going on here. Rubi disposes of her enemies by “penetrating” them with bullets from “both barrels” of her guns. And on close combat can “penetrate” them further with her large “sword”. I know I’m reading too much into that but fuck you I’m after more word count.

Oh and guess what: quick-time events. During the second part of the demo a car chase takes place. Only you’re on top of the cars, leaping from one roof to another firing at passing enemies in what is quite possibly the most fast-paced sequences I’ve ever played in any game.

The unrealistic feats of acrobatics that Rubi possesses borders on silly but it enables for some rather interesting-looking stunts and death-defying leaps. If Rubi was a bloke, she’d be Jason Statham. Unfortunately the transition from one car to another can only be obtained by quick-time events in which you must press a button with immediate accuracy before a bullet sets up home in your eye socket.

As annoying as this gets when inevitable repetition occurs because the vast majority of the population do not possess clairvoyant capabilities, it is exacerbated further by having to concentrate on these quick-time events whilst keeping yourself free of enemy bullets.

It’s a level of concentration and the desire to not blink for several minutes that does put you on the edge of your seat but also becomes annoying when inevitable repetition occurs (I purposefully repeated that phrase just to illustrate how irritating repetition can be).

RAGE MODE

I’ve given this aspect of the game its own sub-title. Don’t ask why. I wrote it in. It’s been established. Let’s move on with our lives shall we?

What WET also features is something that…crap…there really is no other way of getting around this Quentin Tarantino reference. I’m sorry, it positively reeks of Kill Bill. It even has a siren-esque battle music.

During these sequences Rubi becomes enraged (somebody else’s blood ruins her morning Shredded Wheat, I dunno…) and the screen ditches intricate and detailed graphics for three basic colours: red, black and white. The decal of the room becomes a strong red and Rubi and enemies become silhouetted as she rampages in rapid-fire mode, literally exploding bad guys with her anger and bullets.

The problem with having rooms with no features is it makes seeing your next destination a little difficult. I circled a room several times looking for doors and/or switches before I realised there was a corridor leading to another room in one corner. I’m supposed to be a slick, eagle-eyed assassin and here I am flailing around an empty room (save for some splatter and puddles of testosterone) like I’ve just discovered a repressed fear of legs.

Oh and white is the colour of blood in these bits.

Your intrepid heroine donned a garter belt & gothic enough clothing & headed out to a fetish club where, though somewhat overdressed, she was admitted entrance on the grounds that she was The Ultimate Sub.  She also shared some of her very good gothic poetry with you.

***

Now, Ben’s 1. banner behind us, I can dispense with the third person & carry on with my account of GEEK WEEK Day 5.  Science Day.

This morning, I was to 2. conduct a science experiment in the comfort of my own home.  I’m also supposed to 3. blog about it & 4. include pictures. My experiment was pretty groundbreaking, if I do say so myself.  Just look at this lab report!

I. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM:
Can I predict &/or determine the future?

II. HYPOTHESIS:
Yes.  I will test this hypothesis by spinning a coin 100 times, predicting that the final tally will be approximately 60% tails & 40% heads.

Materials:

My assistant with the supplies

• One (1) Canadian quarter
• One (1) small notepad
• One (1) fine-point retractable Sharpie pen.
• One (1) myself
• One (1) The Chancellor
• One (1) psychic vision
• Time & money

III. PROCEDURE:
After recording my prediction, I sat cross-legged on the floor (facing slightly northwest, with an open window behind me) & spun the quarter 100 times (in 10 sets of 10).  The Queen was heads & the stag was tails, as usual.  On the 49th spin I began touching The Chancellor for luck during each spin, when he was available.  The phone rang once in the 80s & I answered it.  It was TD.  He had some funny stories to tell me about my archenemy & exploding (two words; sounds like “heart shapes”.)  After chatting for twelve minutes, I resumed spinning.

IV. RESULTS:

Before intervention by Chance, tails & heads occurred with precisely 50/50 regularity.  With Chance on my side, however, the coin landed on Tails slightly more than 58% of the time.  Every round with the Chancellor by my side resulted in a strict 60/40 ratio, with the exception of round 9 when the telephone rang, Chancellor stalked off in a jealous snit, & TD’s haplessness briefly rubbed off on me.  I got 50/50 that time.

Final tally?

Round 1: T H T H H T T H H H
Round 2: H T T T H H T H T T
Round 3: H H T H H T T T H T
Round 4: T T H H T H T H T T
Round 5: T T H H T H T H T T
Round 6: H T T H H T T T T H
Round 7: T T T T H T H T H H
Round 8: H T T H T T T H T H
Round 9: H T T T H H H H T T
Round 10: T T H T T H T T H H

Total:

Tails: 55
Heads: 45

V. CONCLUSION:
It’s just as I suspected: I can loosely predict &/or determine my future &/but I’m nothing without the Chancellor.  You can try to replicate this experiment at home with a black cat of your own if you wish, but it probably won’t work for you because most people aren’t magic like me & the Chancellor.

Precisely what the coin saw

Also, don’t go gambling with TD, whatever you do.

***

After this little experiment, I was ready for my next big adventure.  I grabbed some lunch with Braden & then we headed to 5. Science World!

Who am I? Guess. I like blue sweaters & water taxis.

Once we arrived I attempted to strike the nerdiest possible pose in front of a sign about putting the “GEEEE” in genome.  I think I did pretty good!  The first time in my life that I’ve ever EVER done double peace signs in a picture!

omgenome

We only had an hour & fifteen minutes before closing, but we thought that would be plenty of time. Braden bought some popcorn.  & then the fun began!

What a slow poke

We tested our reflexes.  I was slightly faster, which leads me to think it was rigged.

Then we played Mind Ball, which is a relaxation contest.  You strap something on your head & your relaxation waves move a ball in the middle to one side or another.  I won the first round! I relaxed myself by reciting Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” in my head.

Braden pondered, weak & weary

Then we tested our grips.

Concentration &/or consternation

I have no grip at all.  In fact, I was banned from the school’s monkey bars as a child because I would always let go in the middle & hurt myself.  So this recalled painful memories for me.

Absolutely gripping!

But look at Braden! What a he-man.

Then we tried to fit in a tiny little glass box.  If you can fit in, the sign told us, you’re probably double jointed.

Will I need some dismembering?

Not if I have anything to do with it!

The blur is me pulling my elbow in, I’ll have you know.  I made it!

There's more than one peculiar angle at play here

But no cigar

Braden was close. Maybe next time?

We had a wheelchair race (he won) & conducted various other experiments.  We also spent some time with optical illusions.

You know the kind

Then we lost each other.  Because we were so immersed in science!

I learned about facial symmetry & harnessed wind, water, & so forth to power some musical robots.  I also turned a hand crank to run a small television.  What would it show me? What would it show me?

It showed me myself! Turning a crank.  WOW! I shouted, with the same delight a monkey would feel.  I dropped the crank & the picture vanished.  So I turned it & turned it & turned it some more, then ran off to find Braden.  I guess he’d been spending some time in the giant hamburger.

Also, there was a fake garbage dump.  But he saw a real mouse in it!  Funny, right?

I showed him the symmetry machine.

Oh it's SO symbolic guys.

& then we aged our faces by 30 years.  According to Braden, 70 year old me bears an uncanny resemblance to Ptolemy.  But I think he flatters me.

Soon, to our horror, Science World was about to close.  We ran down to play one more game of Mind Ball.

I won once, and nevermore.

Braden won that round.  I was too anxious about the looming specter of Week 11!  Guys, I’m pretty sure it is going to be the craziest week yet.  I don’t want to give much away, but suffice to say my primary fear is getting arrested &/or repeatedly thrown out of places & I expect to spend a lot of time unwinding with a kazoo.

But back to the present.  Perfect.  We had ten minutes so we ran around looking at more things.  We missed at least two whole exciting rooms!

A little suggestive of an oyster

In a room full of dinosaur bones, I accidentally put my mouth on the paw of a taxidermied beaver which had really seen better days.  How like me.  Then we sat & watched some honeybees in a narrow little hive with a window on either side.  It’s nice to know they’re still out there somewhere!

Then with minutes to spare we ventured into what was probably the best & most exciting room.  But we didn’t have time for anything.  We only had time to hoist ourselves up with some ropes.

I wish I had one of these things on my balcony

Barack Obama called Kanye West a jackass, by the way! I love my president!

We were high as very low kites by then!

Go, science!

It’s much higher up than it looks.

Anyway, it was time to go home.  We passed the casino where Braden stopped in to use the washroom.  Wasn’t I nineteen? the bouncer asked & didn’t I want to come in?  “Oh I’m trying to avoid the slots” I said.  He said that was a very good call.

We made our ways merrily home.  After taking my leave of Braden, I stopped at the 7-11 where I bought an industrial-sized bag of 6. Miss Vickie’s Salt & Vinegar chips. Ate far too many & washed it all down with root beer.  Texting Elizabeth (back in Ann Arbor) furiously.  It’s 40 cents per text to the US but Elizabeth is worth every penny.  & there is SO much gossip.

No 7. QAPLA’s or 8. maj’s for me, today, alas, as I simply haven’t had the occasion.  Also, I can’t watch my Mad Men until I watch some of 9. The Prisoner. My package from amazon.ca still hasn’t arrived.  So much for next day delivery!  Who runs the Canadian postal service?  It must be Canadians. Anyway, YouTube it is.

Speaking of deliveries, Ben has not provided my geeky t-shirt for tomorrow.  If I were him, I’d drop it off at Elfsar before work or during lunch.  Otherwise, I’m going to continue to dress like the indolent floozy I am, which won’t be very enlightening at all.

Anyway, look at me!  I’m nearly done with Day 5 & I have plenty of time to spare.  I’m definitely afraid of Week 11, but I’ve also been proven by science to be magic.  So I shouldn’t worry too much about anything ever.

Link to review

There’s a distinct lack of Spy/stealth games these days, and there’s a good reason why. Not only are the major successors of stealth some of the biggest well known gaming characters to grace the earth, but there also really quite difficult to pull off to such a degree of standing up to said juggernauts of darkness. Haven’t figured who I’m referring to yet? Get out.

Hopefully one of the last of the World War II batch of games for a long time, Velvet Assassin follows a young female spy and whilst the general idea of the character isn’t so far off from the truth, we set off on a handful of her missions.

Early on, well. From the main menu background, were shown our female character Violette, looking a little worse for wear, lying in a hospital bed, with some rather menacing men surrounding her. From here, the beginning of the game sets off just a teeny bit behind in the storyline, and our first few missions are the lead up to the predicament were shown in the menu and loading screens, here is where we get the feel for Violette and what leads her on her missions.

Like most stealth games, Velvet does rely on a lot of sit and wait it out moments, with dark areas keeping you hidden and the light areas…well, go figure.

Firearms aren’t much of a focus in this game, whilst there are opportunities and in some places its necessary to use guns, some silenced and others not, your main friend will be your blade.

Now don’t be fooled on your foxy main character, she’s pretty brutal with her blade, and anything else that she uses to be honest, it’s a bit shocking at first, hell, sometimes I still find new ones.

Now the only problem with these gruesome attacks is their all random, because there all done from one button. Now, this sounds silly, because obviously, its done from usually just one button anyway, but the game treats stealth attacks almost like a RTS section, where you need only be sneaking behind an enemy within a certain radius and just press A. When it tells you to obviously, and bam the whole things done right there in front of you, bit of a let down. Then with usual actions you soon find A is pretty much the only button you’ll need until you have yourself a pistol, or no doors to work through, this is a lot less rewarding as it seems with just pressing A for the entirety of your sneaky takedown of a room full of mugs.

One other way of dispatching of your enemies is the…Morphine Mode. Now, this mode is a little weird, as not only is it just plain stealth kill ruining, but if the games meant to retain any realism something like this shouldn’t be included. Basically, providing you have one syringe of Morphine, you for a limited time can run around like a loon (in your underwear might I add) and freely kill one enemy of your choice without running the risk of being caught or heard. Now this is all fair and fun in the game, but I was starting to get the feeling you were reliving Violettes past missions whilst she told you because of the way the first missions are presented and the narrative, yet these ‘Morphine sections’ don’t really fit. Its like she’s recalling what she did, and those sections were the blurry bits she forgot, oh you know how these kids get with their morphine n such!…Addict.

The one painful flaw in the A.I. is that it never really seems to give the impression your using any form of stealth whatsoever. You’re just in fact cloaked under their ability to see unless your doing something painfully obvious. This works alright in the first set of missions, however later, when in broad daylight using shadows from a hedge to keep you hidden from a guard in hugging distance, this really takes away the realism. Not only that, but the fact guards will on off see you from the ears they seem to have grown in their ears and when caught, regardless of where you run and hide, the enemy who caught you will always seem to run to where you are, exactly, rather than the last place you were seen. With this, you’re usually hiding, with the guard right in front of you, with a 50/50 chance of him seeing you despite being in the dark. This, and the ‘Press A to do pretty much everything’, is what holds the game back.

The games dark, lets get one thing straight. I had to knock the in game brightness up to almost full just to be able to differentiate from hidden areas and right in front of people. Once you get past that, the games a good looking piece of work, the levels flow well together and whilst the levels are very linear there’s always a simple path to make it from one door to the other, its just how long your willing to stalk your prey before you go.

Whilst the games very quiet (it is a stealth game after all) you’ll always get those typical German calls and even the occasional conversation you have to sit through whilst its being dubbed in English before they decide to split up and you do your rounds.

There are 12 levels, split over 6 main missions, which makes for good hunting. On top of that there’s the collectables to find and secret objectives hidden in every level to find, so keep your thinking cap on.

By leaving the NVG’s and tranquiliser darts at home, the game automatically gets kudos for making you use your head more in more suitable settings with a lot less technology to help you out, however the sheer thickness and predictability of the A.I. really let the game down on the level of just enjoying the game, or even restarting checkpoints.

7.0

Even though I’ve just blogged in my previous post about why we can be hard on ourselves, I’m still musing about it. I’ve just been thinking about a former boyfriend breaking up with me because he felt he was “no good for me” and that I “deserve someone of a higher quality” than him.

Pretty harsh on himself, hey? Depression can do that.

All the books and websites on depression tell us that we’re our harshest critics to begin with (we don’t really need to read up on that to know that). Coupled with depression, naturally we are even harsher to the point where we’re bullying ourselves and truly believe that no one could possibly like us when we dislike ourselves so much, that we’re not worthy of friendship, affection and even love by others. We cannot believe people when they tell us that they really do like us, can see the good in us, believe in us, want to support us, want to listen to us and want to help us. Why would they want to even be in our presence when we’re (to quote someone I know) sad, dark and angry with the world?

Depression is a nasty bitch and she aims to divide those suffering from her wrath with the ones we love. It can be hard for others to deal with, especially if we keep pushing them away. In my case, having someone break up with me because (I presume) he thought I couldn’t cope  as well as his belief that he was not worthy was pretty devastating and so untrue (“I’m no good for you, darling.”). Sure, there were other factors, but I suspect that they were some of the main reasons.

Depression makes us have very warped view of ourselves — and it’s not real. We know that. Higher quality, my arse, when I thought he was just wonderful and I adored him, sadness and all! It made me feel that he didn’t believe I was capable of being there for him. It made me a bit angry as well, to be undermined like that. Just because he didn’t have much faith in himself didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have any faith in me as well. It’s the depression taking over — it’s not real and it completely fucks up perspective! I should know, I struggle with it too.

Of course, for someone suffering with depression, the pressure may be compounded when they feel guilty for neglecting their partner. Depression is a selfish illness — we withdraw, want to indulge in our unhappiness, feel immobilised. It can be damn hard to show affection and attention to a partner (or a friend or family member or even be constructive at work). When you have a partner who is worried about you and is stressed out about you, that can increase the pressure and guilt. You don’t want to cause pain to anyone and yet that’s what’s happening. Depression is the third person in a relationship, as some smart man once told me.

I suspect strongly that’s another reason why my relationship faltered, even though I was prepared to support him. It was just difficult with the lack of communication and the tyranny of distance. And I understand that. And I understand that I was so stressed out because of those factors. It feels like a Catch-22: I’m sad I wasn’t given the chance to support him, but I’m somewhat relieved that I don’t have that constant stress and worry and lack of sleep to deal with anymore — and then I feel guilty admitting that because it sounds so selfish. It would have been easier had I been closer, but I wasn’t, and there’s no point in indulging in those “‘if only” thoughts.

There are days when I’m feeling low and think that my company must be too miserable that surely no one would even want to talk to me and so consequently I become rather anti-social or just avoid social situations. I don’t want to make others miserable because I am. I worry that my low feelings and negative vibes might affect others.

But deep inside, those of us who feel this must know that that’s utter bullshit. We need to surround ourselves with those who want to be there for us — make a cake, send a bunch of flowers, give us a hug, or allow a phone call or email, even if we don’t feel like talking or responding. They can’t perform miracles but it does slowly feel good and we do need them. All of us dealing with this bitch need to stop pushing people away.

Moreover, we have to start somewhere and stop bullying ourselves and start believing others when they tell us that they love us and want to help us, be there for us. We have to start believing that we are worthy. No matter how fucking unbelievable or hard it is.

The point of view of the narrative of a piece of fiction or novel is often a brain-crushing issue.

I subscribe to a newsletter called Ginny’s Fiction Writing Blog, and recently I came across a post entitled ‘First Person or Third for New Writers?’

I was surprised to see that the advice given to new writers is to write from the First Person perspective (ie, I did this, I felt this) as opposed to the Third Person perspective (ie he did this, she felt this).  Surprised because at the only creative writing course I attended, we were recommended to use Third Person in all our writing exercises, as we were told that it was ‘easier’ and caused less problems for inexperienced writers.  I have also read several books on writing which also suggested that newbies should start off with Third Person, and when they have built up more confidence, to move on to First Person.  That said, even when writing in the Third Person, when writing individual scenes, we were advised to stick to the perspective of a single person (as opposed to an omnipresent God-like narrator that knows what everyone is thinking and feeling).  It allows readers to relate more, we were told.

Audrey Niffenegger told the story using two First Person perspectives

There’s actually a lot more than just the simple distinction between First Person (eg Twilight by Stephenie Meyer) or Third Person (eg Harry Potter by JK Rowling).  There are books that utilise the First Person narrative but using two separate characters (eg The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger), or even multiple First Person narratives (like My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult).  Or there are books like The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, which, on the face of it is a First Person narrative (told from the perspective of Death), but because the narrator watches the story unfold from afar, it reads more like a Third Person narrative.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with any style, as long as it is effective.  Out of all the styles described above, only the multiple First Person perspectives (ala My Sister’s Keeper) didn’t feel quite right to me.  It was just a bit too confusing having to jump from one character to another.  Even though each point of view was split into separate chapters, I felt like I could never get into the characters like I should have.  Rather than getting a better sense of what each character was like and how they felt, it ended up having the opposite effect.  Anyway, that’s just me.

My Sister's Keeper used multiple First Person perspectives. Of course, it and The Time Traveler's Wife are now both movies.

So when it came time to decide on what perspective to use for my own fantasy novel, I struggled a lot.  As I always tend to try and put myself in the shoes of the main character, I started off believing that First Person would be most appropriate.    But the problem with using First Person all the way through is that the knowledge you convey to the reader is confined to a single person.  My antagonist also had a great story to tell, and I didn’t want to deprive my novel of his story.  So I started contemplating the idea of the shifting First Person perspective method, where I would tell the story from two views – the protagonist and the antagonist.  But that was still only two characters.  I also wanted all my characters to be fleshed out properly, for each one of them to have real emotions that they could convey to the reader.  But then I read My Sister’s Keeper and felt the multiple First Person perspectives didn’t work, so I scrapped that idea.  Then came the idea of interchanging Third Person narrative with First Person.  It’s been done before.  You tell the story in Third Person, and every few chapters you throw in one from the First Person perspective, written in italics.  It sounded good but was probably beyond my skills as a writer.

In the end, I went with what felt right.  Yep, I decided on Third Person, all the way.  I asked myself – what’s the most important thing here?  Of course, it was simply to tell the story in the most effective way.  I wanted to give the reader a good sense of each of the main characters.  I didn’t want to confine the view to a single person, or even two.  I also wanted exciting action sequences and battles told as though the reader was an eagle watching from above.  I wanted the novel to play out like a movie that would let the audience know what I want them to know, when I want them to know.  The truth is, you could probably do that with any of the narrative techniques, but as a new, inexperienced writer still learning the nuances of the craft, Third Person just made it a whole lot easier.

“Theft” by Katherine Anne Porter, is a short story about a woman living in New York in the early 20th century. The author implements a narrative discourse that allows the reader to ascertain the events leading up to the theft of the purse through flashback and recollection. The narrative discourse is as follows: (1) woman walks out of shower and realizes her purse has gone missing, (2) she recollects events leading up to loss during previous day and night, (3) she realizes janitress committed theft and confronts her, (4) purse is given back to her. Events 1, 3, and 4 happen in the present setting of the story, while event 2 happened in the past and is simply a recollection. If the reader were to put the events in chronological order on a real timeline, they would progress as follows: 2, 1, 3, 4.
In regards to Abbot’s Cambridge Introduction to Narrative which discussed the role of narrator, voice, and focalization in narrative, one may conclude that “Theft” was written in the third-person point of view but is not omniscient, for the reader only glimpses the woman’s thoughts. I believe that instances of free-indirect style can also be seen throughout the story, primarily when direct citation is not used to display the woman’s thoughts. For example, “She laid the purse on the table and sat down with the cup of chilled coffee, and thought: I was right not to be afraid of any thief but myself, who will end by leaving me nothing.”
While reading the story, various questions are posed in regards to a myriad number of details the author has included in the work. Such questions include: (1) What is the nature of the relationship between the woman and Camilo? The woman and Roger? (2) Why is everyone in such a state of financial disarray? (3) Who stole the woman’s purse? Some questions are answered as the work progresses, primarily when the author discloses that the janitress stole the purse and background research is done to identify the narrative’ s setting. But there is an absence of closure at the end of the work in regards to other questions that have been posed, and universal mysteries still remain in my mind: What was the purpose of this work? What was the author attempting to tell the audience? What is the narrative’s significance?

Here’s my current Facebook status message:

“Don Kowalewski is at work and not checking Facebook or updating his status message because, um, I’m working. Such behavior would be irresponsible. His To-Do list takes priority.”

Quite a few schools of thought (or is it school of thoughts? which word gets pluralized?) on Facebook status message updates.  Some think Bible versus cross the line, while others think open ended, leading status updates (i.e. “is very worried”) are stupid. I think we can all agree alerts as to the yumminess of your food aren’t necessary.  So how should you update your status and what should you and shouldn’t you say?

It’s simple – be entertaining. And interesting.

Occassionally you can let everyone know about the results of a medical test, the health of a loved one, etc, because I won’t deny the importance of knowing that and, well, it’s relevant to your status. If Grandma is “doing better”, then I’m happy to know it. Just write it as, “Don is happy his Grandmother is doing better. Don’s Grandmother is going home tomorrow.” I “friended” you, after all, so I care about your Grandmother.

But if you “need coffee?” Join the club. And if, indeed, the quest for coffee is all consuming, give me more.  Try “Don needs to invent a faster way for water to percolate coffee grounds. Hurry dripping water!” Or “Don is dreaming of a day when technology allows water to more quickly pass through his coffee grounds. Can NASA look into this?”

See? It’s better. It alerts me you “need coffee” but it also gives me some insight into your brain’s thought process. Maybe you brew your own. Maybe you “need coffee and coffee only – black. So would these Moca Latte w/ whip’ please get out of her way.”

“Her” you ask? My final critique is that Facebook status updates are meant to be written in third-person. It’s difficult to keep it straight, but if you refer to yourself in the third person, we’ll all be happier. Facebook status messages are like a story starter, or ad-lib book. “Your Name” and then fill in the blank. It used to be “Name is” and we had a blank to complete. Point is, don’t let me catch you using “I” in your status message. Refer to yourself by name, or by “he” “she” “her” “him” and “his”.

And there you go. When you check my Facebook, soon, it will say “Don is proofreading his donsego.com blog entry on how-to update Facebook status messages.”

This has got to be the most frustrating part of writing for me.

Point of View – the persepctive with which a story is being told.

I want to get into ALL the characters’ heads, and tell the story from everyone’s perspective.  I know you can do it that way, but they say it’s not the best way to do it.

It’s called the “omniscient” point of view, and I’ve read that if you use this point of view correctly, it can greatly help your story.  However, if you use it incorrectly, it can be a lot of trouble, even to the point of messing up the continuity of the story.

So what should I do?

I could tell the story from one person’s perspective only, but that would take a lot out of the story.  There are certain scenes that help to build the story, but the main character is not involved.  So what then?

For me, a newbie writer, this is a difficult situation.

Thoughts, anyone?  I would love to hear from some other writers, what they think is the best way to handle my situation.

The first portion of the dream included an unusual point of view.  I’m not sure that I can say if I can recall a dream wherein I’ve had a similar experience, actually; now that I’m thinking about it, it could have been some kind of “third-person” variant of the visual (film?) world.  I was overlooking events as if from above.  Other times, my point of view was “close-by” my avatar and other times, I looked through my own eyes.  When I was far above, I was usually quite high in the air: I could see myself as a very small point and all around, the land stretched for great distances.  I’m reminded of the times I’ve spent playing videogames – Final Fantasy’s world map view would be a good comparison to what this was like.

The terrain was all natural and the colour scheme was pretty dark: dark trees, lots of hills, mountains and dark-coloured water surrounded the land.  I distinctly remember that the dream “scrolled” eastward as well, although I did not strictly travel as directly as that, given the environment; there were neither roads nor indication of any previous travelers who had come before me, actually.  I don’t even really remember very well why it was that I started out to do this in the first place.  I vividly remember the dark colours.  This kind of colour scheme is frequently characteristic of my dreams of these recent past couple of years, I’m inclined to say.

Pressed to physically describe myself in the dream, I have difficulty.  I want to say that I was blonde and straight-haired, male, early twenties (as I am) however more childish-seeming than older (as I am…).  I wasn’t dressed to any particular time-period that I remember anymore.  More on the topic of my “person”, I also remember that at a couple (or one?) of points in the dream, my view switched to another, videogame-specific sort: an “inventory” screen opened and replaced my view of the world entirely, but to inform me, rather than to obstruct my view (I’m thinking that if something like that happened for any other reason than that I was dreaming, I’d be a “nervous” kind of surprised.  I’d probably be on drugs, actually).

That “inventory” screen was an important part of a turning point in the dream, but sadly, I do not remember events very exactly when it comes to this moment.  I really wish that I did because it was a transition period.  I never remember these “transition periods” very well, but they’re just so weird in nature that I can’t feel too badly about it.  Anyway: there were three vacant spots in the shapes of armoured helmets on the screen, but a few moments prior, I had done something that awarded me (or I found it?) a particular helmet to fill one of the slots.  However, good though this news was at the time, I then immediately encountered misfortune.

I wandered into an area of the land (overlooking like a bird, as described) that was somehow significant.  At this point, I was also quite close to the coast, where I had been traveling towards.  This region was significant for the danger it posed I’m guessing now.  Anyway, I suffered some kind of defeat.  I don’t recall any pain, any conflict and I don’t remember the consequence.  I only remember my thoughts in the aftermath as I looked down at my avatar, noticed the helmet, and then observed the region of land.  If I had to imagine the region as if looking through my own eyes, I would say that it was probably sparsely dotted with trees but densely bushy.  There were ditches, bracken, exposed earth and overall… inappropriate for any bipedal creature.  I don’t remember any wildlife either, but something tells me that some kind wildlife or some kind of animal was involved (probably involved at more than one point than this, too).

So, maybe I “died” at this point.  Saying that feels uncomfortable.  I don’t understand what happened, obviously, especially so because the dream didn’t quite finish there.  When the dream continued, I found that I had remained in the same world and was destined towards the same locale.  I’m pretty sure I was the same person, but I’m getting another hunch that it could just as easily been the opposite.  Things took a drastic turn here just the same, as I was to finally reach my destination on the coast.

I was just in time for an exciting event, but I don’t know that I’d been anticipating it – anyway, I was just in time for some kind of “End of the World”.  This part of the dream won’t take too long to describe, so before I do, I should include some other visuals that I remember.  I remember coming to the edge of the water by way of a steeply inclined embankment.  These weren’t beaches for lying towels down for tanning on: there were thick grasses, moss, crumbly earth, jagged rocks and the tide was lively.  At sea-level, I could see a distant coast across what I guess was an inlet.  There were buildings on the other shore, such as the urban sort that populate my Vancouver, BC.  I don’t exactly think I was seeing some kind of “Vancouver” vision, but then again, I don’t know at all the role of these buildings.  I could see their reflections on the water very vividly, as well; if I didn’t know any better, I would say that I was almost aware of the reflected light/colour of them as they shone on my face.  It was like the kind of vivid, crisp reflections that strong because they are silhouetted against raging flames.  I have noticed that when buildings burn at the edge of the water, their reflections on the water create a very particulate atmosphere.  I think these buildings could represent ordered establishment – government?  America?  Something along those lines?  All I did was regard them.

As for the actual end of the world, my vantage point was from a higher elevation.  I was on a cliff, always on grass and always in view of the churning seas that surrounded the land.  I remember the white waves and bubbling sea foam very well.  Additionally, I also recall there being other people present, but I was feeling “unto” myself entirely: I was quite singular albeit; I couldn’t say that I felt connected to anyone or welcome anywhere.  I was fine with that just the same, but I was in a state privy only to my own thoughts and observations.  Things were in a hurry and hurrying up as the moments passed.  Grass flew in the air, the wind picked up and the sky started to swirl.

There was also a single conflict between myself and another person, who I didn’t recognize.  I have no idea what it was about or why it happened.  It was resolved by the world ending either way, ha-ha.  It was a female, but she could have been male – she had boyish proportions, engaged physical struggle with me (I find this behavior to be more masculine than feminine) and I can’t remember her voice, so she could have had a very deep voice for all I know.  She was dark-skinned, dark-haired (seemed half-and-half Caucasian/Black) and wiry.  When she stopped bothering me, she turned to the cliff and became preoccupied by the tumult of a shorn and shredded, swirling sky.  She was standing at the edge of the cliff and seemed suddenly oblivious to me.  I remember also the sound of wooden boats being destroyed on the rocks at the base of the cliff – I needn’t have approached the cliff to see though; the sea was such that the water was angled steeply so that I could see it’s surface displayed before me, even at my distance from the edge.

I watched the sky closely now.  I noticed that particles of blue sky had been vacuumed upwards and were swirling away with increasing speed.  I saw it and knew that the end of everything was imminent, but I wasn’t feeling fear.  I watched the dark-skinned girl prepare herself with a foot halfway over the edge of the cliff, leap purposefully, but what followed was unexpectedly comedic.  She belly-flopped into a half-submerged rowboat: it seemed that the vortex was approaching at a… definite speed and that our physics still applied insofar as it couldn’t reach.  So she hit the water, picked herself up, I laughed privately to myself and she started to negotiate a second attempt.  I was never to learn of her fate, but at that point, it didn’t matter to me.

the streams of coloured reality were so specific in their appearance that I’m afraid I will have trouble describing it.  If you can imagine a speckled robin’s egg: the pattern of dappled, perceived colours would almost increasingly lose their integrity, become less fluid and less dynamic – less able to participate with the rest of the image of the world as a cohesive whole.  It would be sucked, pulled, entwined upwards in selective streams or “strands” like twisting bands of candy being pulled and rolled towards the final product.  Where the points of colour and light had been vacuumed, there was black.  I remember feeling very excited.  I was relieved for the event, but not in such a sullen or melancholy state as that might seem.  I didn’t yearn for the end of my life.  I wanted to be part of this process.  I offered no resistance.

Of course, I would wake up at that moment…

Elaine asked me- “What do I really want to write?”  That’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it. (Showing my age there- a quiz show back when Who Wants to Be a Millionaire would have been called Who Wants to be a Sixty-four Thousandaire and our house cost the then so hard for my parents to afford sum of $12,000!)

“What did I think I “should” write?”  is an easier question to answer. Presents/Modern Heat. So many reasons. I enjoy reading them. I got that Comps Slip from the Instant Seduction contest. My writing buddies were targetting HMB. I posted a couple of excerpts from Luk and Emma’s story to the critique group, and they all agreed that the piece I thought was more Presents was far better than the piece that would have to be cut to make it Presents.

They all said- “Write Harlequin/ Mills and Boon”. That was my biggest  influence, I think. I trust their judgement. We’re all pre-published, but a couple of them are veeeeeeery close, and all are good insightful readers. I finished the first draft, and saw I had a mix of elements. I could push it one way in the edits to make it Presents, another way to make it a Sweet romance, and another to make it a single title story aimed at Little Black Dress. I was undecided, though I did know in my heart which way I wanted to go. I looked for outside validation, and posted those excerpts. I didn’t trust my own judgement. Sometimes we do get too close to our own writing to see what’s there

I chose to go Presents/MH, because of the girls’ advice, even though it went against what I really wanted to do.  I only just realised what was wrong with that.  (I mean besides the obvious- “Write what you love, not what other people tell you to write, you idiot!”)

They gave their advice based solely on the pieces I gave them to read.

The Presents piece was perfectly Presents. It could stay in the completed Presents manuscript as it was, with only the slightest of tweaks. The piece I gave them as an example of my Little Black Dress style, was all wrong, not at all representative of what the finished story would contain. Because I first drafted with Presents in mind, it was a LBD  scenario but written in a Presents style. Third person, hero POV, all wrong wrong wrong for what I wanted.  The criticisms of that piece were valid. It didn’t work well, and the section in the hero’s POV slowed down the action. Of course it did! It shouldn’t have been there at all.

I am a slow learner sometimes!

This morning, I started rewriting the story in first person heroine POV, with Little Black Dress in mind. It feels good. It feels like coming home. There will still be problems and pitfalls and places where I tear my hair out. But I’ve already had a massive insight into the heroine’s core emotional need. There was yet another layer underneath what I thought was her core need. As I was rewriting a scene I’d already written four times, some more of her thoughts popped out, because I was deeper in her mind. There it was. Her core need! How I missed it before, I don’t know. Even if I go back to writing it third person, that one insight makes the experiment well worthwhile.

It is a strategy I’ll use again, I think, if I’m feeling stuck. Shift POV, and see what comes out.

What do I really want to write? Contemporary romantic fiction, with an element of the fairy tale. Maybe magical realism, maybe real magic, maybe just the magic of amazing unexpected life changes, including falling in love. Possibly a bit wacky, off the wall in places. I feel like I’m taking my first steps into an enchanted forest, without a map.