Commuter to Reality: Conclusion

Reflect on the class and what has been helpful or meaningful to you.
I glare at the sheet of paper, blaming it for the past four months of headaches, screams, tantrums and tears. Two different classes, true, but the frusteration level was exactly the same.  What have I learned from this class?

• Concrete details are important.
• Consider your audience.
• Some people don't think fantasy is real literature.
• Some people only wantyou to practice writing 'real literature.'
• This professor cannot be pleased.

The last one summerizes it all, really. How else can I explain her notes of 'too many adjectives" on the first page and a conclusion that I did not have enough detail? Peer critiques were no help; she thinks I added too much thought and turned it into an essay on the spiritual state of the English church, while the peer critiques said it was too much of a travel narrative.  I have one week from tomorrow to finish edits on this and my poems from earlier in the class.
I want to bang my head against the desk until I have a concusion, but she wouldn't give me an extension on that account. I glance at the paper again. What I really want to to do is scrawl a big fat "NOTHING"  across the paper, or print it in 72-pt Hobbiton font and hand it in, but she wants 350 words minimum for 10 pts, and my perfectionist nature won't let  me squander the grade on revenge. Plus, I have her next fall. Can't burn my bridges just yet.
"Rule 1: The Doctor Lies."
 So do I. All the time. Have to. Spoilers"
--Amy and River, "The Wedding of River Song"
I feel like I've been lying to her the whole time. Lying that I liked this poem or that essay, that I agreed with this theory of writing or didn't really mind the assignment. Lying by omission, if nothing else. She talked about vulnerability yesterday, about being adventurious and unafraid before that, and I scrawled in my notebook,Of course you can say that, you aren't the one getting graded! You aren't the one who spends hours on a short story she doesn't even like and gets told it was lame! (even when it is lame. Let me use my ideas, then it won't be lame.)  If you want me to write about my world, acknowlege that it largely takes place in my head. And stop calling us apprentice writers! People act like they are treated. It's a self-fufilling prophecy that will we never be anything more than apprentices.
On Tumblr yesterday, I saw this quote:

Assignment A: "Write 1 page paper on this really interesting subject that you know lots about."

Me: *writes 5 page paper*

Assignment B: "Write 10 page essay on this really super boring subject that no one cares about."

Me: *writes two paragraphs before beating head violently against desk*

Exactly. This blog post is probably already close to the word count--(checks)--500 words. Five hundred words about how I don't want to write a 350 word refllection. Reflection is a funny-looking word, too, but I digress. And it's May 1st today...no, no more digressions. So, what should I do about this? I have roughly 25 hours to finish this assignment, which must also include sleeping, eating, and two more classes. Drats.

Commuter to Reality: Reality

"The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real … for a moment at least … that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer.
Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La. They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle Earth."-
George R.R. Martin (paragraphs mine)

And that says it all. But in case you're intimidated by the long quote, let me state in the worlds of Owl City: "Reality is a lovely place, but I wouldn't want to live there."
Besides, if we're Christians, we should believe in another world, a reality beyond what we can see with our eyes. So why is it that only such a small box of writing is labeled "realistic?"

Commuter to Reality: 'Pulp Fiction'

Many--perhaps most--teachers of fiction writing do not accept manuscripts in genre, and I believe there's good reason for this, which is that wereas writing litary fiction can teach you how to write good genre fiction, writing genre fiction does not teach you to write good liteary fiction--does not, in effect, teach you "how to write," by which I mean how to be original and meaningful in words.--My textbook

I stumbled across this quote from the back of my textbook while glancing through it (finally arrived yesterday, much to my relief). Ironically, the professor mentioned the difference between genre fiction and "literature" in class today. Her points boiled down to:
1. Genre writing is plot-based, literary fiction is character-based.
2. Genre fiction does not have pyscological realism.
3. Genre fiction relies heavily on large, often unrealistic events.
At least, that's what I heard.

My response:
1. How do you show character except through events? Also, if you cannot take out the specific character and replace him without the plot collapsing, doesn't that imply a certian degree of character-basis?
2. To quote G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy/:

The fairy tale discusses what a sane man will do in a mad world. The sober realistic novel of to-day discusses what an essential lunatic will do in a dull world.

3. In certian worlds, big events may be quite reasonable.

And examples for all three (All from Doctor Who for consistancy)
1. The Doctor may enage in many adventures, but those adventures often stem from/are complicated by his nature. One episode that grows directly out of the Doctor's character is "Amy's Choice."
2. While no one now alive is responsible for the genocide of their home planet (we think), the Doctor shows the scars of that action even when he tries to hide it. One of the first things mentioned about him in the revived series comes in conversation with the Nestene Concious,

That's not true! I should know, I was there. I fought in the war. It wasn't my fault! I couldn't save your world! I couldn't save any of them!

3. In the Whoniverse, it is perfectly reasonable that aliens invade Earth (especially on Christmas) and are scared off by a screwdriver, because they know who they are facing.

Commuter to Reality: A Report from the Field

Here we are in the wilds of the web, attempting to track down an inspirus realisticus. Although I have an abundance of inspirus speculatus, my current sponser will only be satisfied with inspirus realisticus captured by outline summeries. This adds an additional level of difficultly, as I perfer the pantser ploy.
I began by inspecting older specimens of speculatus, hoping some of them had realisticus realitves. But this approach proved unsuccessful. My associates had no helpful hints for me, nor did my old records prove useful. I then attempted to search the forests of flickr for images of realisticus, but none of them leapt out at me, and I wish for a healthy specimen. I have also inspected dearblank and postsecret to no avail. I am currently seeking the audio realisticus, but time is running out, as my sponser requires proof of the beast's existance by Wednesday.