The Decline of Poetry?

B

Someone told me recently that poetry doesn’t matter. I was aghast! I was astonished! I was …. annoyed. They claimed it was just for “old times like the 1800s”. Poetry. Beautiful lyrical poetry. It…. doesn’t matter? Really?

What about all those songs you listen to on the radio? Isn’t that poetry?

“Then you smiled over your shoulder
For a minute, I was stone-cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest
And you asked me to stay over
I said, I already told ya
I think that you should get some rest

I knew I loved you then
But you’d never know
‘Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go
I know I needed you
But I never showed
But I wanna stay with you until we’re gray and old
Just say you won’t let go
Just say you won’t let go

I’ll wake you up with some breakfast in bed
I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head
And I’ll take the kids to school
Wave them goodbye
And I’ll thank my lucky stars for that night “

James Arthur- Say you won’t let go. Isn’t that a beautiful thought? Doesn’t this create a beautiful picture in your mind? Tell me this isn’t poetry.

I read a review of one of my favorite books of poetry on Goodreads and the person claimed that if it doesn’t rhyme it’s not poetry. Really? It’s not? I wanted to comment “pretentious much?” I didn’t! But I thought about it.

One of my professors from college was a poet. He has multiple books published. In fact he donated some to a facility for juveniles that were struggling and making poor life choices. You wouldn’t believe how much his poetry spoke to some of them. They weren’t kids who I could ever get to read a novel, but they would read one or two… or seven of his poems. Once they got started it was hard for them to stop. You should check out some of his poetry, it’s really good! Here’s a link to his website. http://www.poetcrisler.com/index.php

Poetry is so beautifully complex and yet simple. In the movie “In Her Shoes” one of the main characters struggles to read. The blind man that she is reading to assures her, “It’s okay. Poetry is supposed to be slow”. She reads a few poems in the movie but my favorite that she reads is by E.E. Cummings.

“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”

Tell me that isn’t beautiful! I relate to this in such deeps ways in regards to my friendship. This one poem can be related to so many different relationships. It’s so versatile!

Amanda Lovelace’s book “The Princess Saves Herself in this One” is incredibly powerful! She encourages the princess to save herself! To slay her own dragons! To leave the tower and go heal! I read her book through in one day. Then I read it two more times. Then I bought three copies so I could give two away. It’s amazingly healing to hear that I’m not the only woman who has been hurt. That someone else understands. Here’s a link to her site https://amandalovelace.com/index.html

Poetry is important. There are things that can be expressed in poetry that cannot be expressed elsewhere. There is a beauty to the way that the words are crafted. The way such few words on a page can have such a big emotional impact. Poetry is important. In a world where everything moves fast, poetry allows us to go slow. So let’s take a moment and appreciate poetry. Let’s appreciate the beauty in the slow things.

Keep Sparkling

-B

Power of the People

B

The big guy vs. the little guy

David vs. Goliath

Newsies vs. Pulitzer

Matilda vs. the Education System

Hamilton vs. Everyone

People have taken on big problems over and over and over again throughout literature and history. Fans have much more power than they give themselves credit for.

The book “The Siren” by Kiera Cass, known for her series “The Selection”, was initially rejected from publishers. No one wanted it. She kept pursuing it and no one wanted it. So she tried something else. She published her Selection series and she gained fans. Her fans desperately wanted more from her. The fans DEMANDED that the publishers give them “The Siren” and thus the book was published. Fans have such power!

Look at the Marvel fandom. Fans kept demanding to see “Avengers Infinity War” and the release date kept getting moved up by the studio. They had that much power!

Fans have this kind of power! What we choose to read influences publishers. What we choose to give to our students influences how they will interpret the world around them. We have that power.

Look at you. One beautiful, brilliant person on this planet. Every time you interact with someone, the world changes a little bit. Every time you choose to have courage and do something scary, you change the world. You matter that much.

William P. Young writes in his book “The Shack”, “If anything matters then everything matters. Because you are important, everything you do is important. Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes; with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again”. That’s how much you matter. You change the universe.

So wield that power for good. Choose to make your voice heard on things that matter. Whether it’s writing a book, demanding a novel be published, changing the way you interact with people that frustrate you, or just choosing kindness. Wield your power. Change the world.

Keep Sparkling,

-B

Speak Epilogue

B

I mentioned in my last post that I would be sharing the Epilogue to “Speak” by Laurie Halse Anderson. I take no credit for the characters or the book. It is all her beautiful work. I’ve kept her formatting from the book.


Therapy

 I have a “therapist” now. Not a counselor. She’s corrected me many times. I didn’t know what the difference was so I looked it up online. I still couldn’t tell you what the difference is but it’s nice to have someone listen anyways. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I don’t. My parents insisted I get therapy when they found out what had happened. They didn’t know how to talk to me about it and they don’t have much practice listening. At least this lady listens. I know she does. That’s what we pay her for.

Hairwoman

Hairwoman sent me a card. I guess I could call her by her name. I’ve never thought about it before. Mrs. Brighton. Her name seems nice. Like she’s bringing sunshine. Her card talked about how I emulate Hester from Hawthorne. She’s glad I learned about symbolism in her class this year. She thinks Hawthorne can help me process. She’s also sorry she didn’t do more to help me feel like I was “safe”. It was nice of her. She was wrong, but nice. There was nothing she could have done to change things. I know she means well so I smile at her card and put it in my drawer for safe keeping. At least she tried. That’s what I need to do now. Try.

Andy

After the lacrosse team found me someone ran for help. The “safety officer”, aka lazy cop who sits around the office, came and escorted Andy into the guidance counselor’s office. When the real cops showed up Nicole told them what she saw. I told them what happened today, and last summer. No surprise- they hauled him out in cuffs and I haven’t seen him since. My lawyer says I’ll have to testify in court but I’m not so worried anymore. Now that I’ve shared the story a few times, it’s not as hard.

Nicole

Nicole is my champion. She has done nothing but tell everyone in school how great I am and how much Andy sucks. She threw her arm over my shoulder after they found me in the closet and it felt like I belonged there. Like she and her lacrosse buddies would always protect me and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. It’s summer now so I won’t see her but I get a phone call at least once a week inviting me to play tennis. I may take her up on it one of these days.

Closet Space

I haven’t sat in my closet at home in awhile. I guess it doesn’t really feel like I need it anymore. Closets. Small Spaces. Slowly those things don’t matter to me as much as they used to. I guess I’m moving forward. Slowly.

Mr. Neck

Mr. Neck and I have a bit of an understanding now. When it all came out about Andy he called me in to talk to him. Told me he was raising my D on my extra credit report to a B. I was shocked. I thanked him. He gruffly told me, “I didn’t get why you weren’t talking. Seemed like you were being defiant. Still not sure I get it. If you stay silent then Andy wins. The suffragettes spoke up.” His face softened momentarily and went back to being strong. “You wrote an excellent report. I hope you’re proud of it.” I smile.

Heather

Heather tried to come around. She left a note taped to my locker.

“Mel, I’m so sorry that happened to you! I was the worst. I can’t believe I dumped you for the stupid Marthas. You should have told me what was happening! I could have done something to help you. Call me!”

I want to write her back and say, “You are the worst. Have fun being miserable, Bitch”. It’s pathetic. I know it’s pathetic. I don’t write her back. I know that being kind is more important so I throw it in the trash can. Maybe Heather will get her wish and her Father will move them to Dallas.

Parents

Mom and Dad look at me like I’ve got bird bones. Like I’m wounded, which I guess I am. Dad doesn’t bring IT up and neither do I. Mom is constantly asking me if I want to talk about it. I don’t. She’s cut back on her hours at the store. “Family crisis” I hear her say on the phone. Yep. A crisis. I’m the crisis, except this time she actually knows why.

Dad and I play Tennis now. Mom calls it “Father-Daughter Bonding”. Like she’s trying to stick us together with super glue. I don’t mind. Dad takes me out for lunch and asks about my summer plans. It’s nice. We don’t talk about IT. Andy. We don’t talk about Andy. I need to start calling him by his name (so my therapist tells me). Dad and I don’t talk about Andy. He starts to say something and almost always stops himself. He cares. It’s nice. He can’t say it, but I can see that he cares.

Mom and Dad don’t fight like they used to. Or maybe they do, just not around me. I don’t know. But they’ve started doing some of that flirty crap. Mom lays her hand on Dad’s knee. Dad wraps his arms around mom’s waste from behind and they cuddle. I pretend to be embarrassed when they do it, but it’s really kind of nice.

It’s nice to see what love is supposed to look like. To see them appreciating each other. After what happened, it’s just nice to know.

Mr. Freeman

Telling Mr. Freeman was hard, but good. He had compassionate eyes the whole time. When I got done I felt like I had deflated. Like I was a balloon with all these toxic gasses inside and I had finally been freed of them. I bet if they weighed me I would be ten pounds lighter. Mr. Freeman told me I was brave and that my trees showed I was brave. I wasn’t so sure about that part. My trees?

He’s teaching a class over the summer. It’s about painting nature. He gave me the information. Maybe I’ll invite Ivy and we can take it together.

Ivy

Ivy and I have gotten closer since this happened. She wants to talk about my turkey bone sculpture and how it symbolizes what happened to me. I don’t want to talk about it so I just let her say what she’s thinking. She’s right though. I see everything she is saying. It does symbolize my pain and torment but it no longer symbolizes me. No longer picked over turkey bones. I’m an in-process person now. A partial person. I’m learning how to become whole again, and Ivy’s friendship is a big part of that.

Rachel

I called Rachel, eventually. She was sorry. So sorry. She showed up at my house with cookies and stuff to make friendship bracelets like we were six. We ate the cookies and made friendship bracelets. She leaves in a week for France. She asked if I wanted her to bring me anything back. I told her I just wanted my best friend back. She grinned at me and said, “no problem.”

David Petrakis

David and I are hanging out now. He doesn’t come to my house. I’m not sure I’m ready for him to meet The Parents. But, I go to his house for pizza with his parents. They like me. I smile at them. Real smiles now. David has this great swing set out back that he used to play on when he was little. We like to sit on the swings and talk. It’s …. Nice.

Turns out David is really good at Frisbee. A nice no-contact sport. So we throw the Frisbee around at least once a week. He told me that he can give me pointers if I want, just to let him know. We both know that means that he would be touching me. Wrapping his arm around mine to show me how to throw it. Breathing the same air. Standing close together. I shrug and throw the Frisbee so badly we both double over with laughter. We’re both surprised when, few weeks later, “Can you come show me how to throw this better?” pops out of my mouth.

Healing

The scabs on my lips are almost gone. My soul no longer feels fractured, just bruised. I’m moving forward. David keeps talking about all these great things he thinks I’m going to do with my life. I’m not so sure. At this point my goal is simple. My therapist helped me come up with it. It’s simply this. Allow myself to live life.

Who are You?

B

Who are you? I always hear this in the caterpillar’s voice from Alice in Wonderland. “WHO are YOU?” I love unique stories and unique authors. I love reading about people that are different than me but I think we are losing some of the uniqueness of the author’s voice. Put Jane Austen, C.S. Lewis, and J.D. Salinger side by side and I can pick out which is which. They had distinctive voices. Heck, even put Tolkien and C.S. Lewis side by side and I can pick out which one is which but I think so much of the craft of being an author is being lost.

The uniqueness of an author’s voice is a beautiful thing. It can’t necessarily be captured in words but I do know that it is beautiful.

In the movie “Music and Lyrics” there is a rather negative line written towards a character that says, “she was a great mimic”. This can be both a positive and a negative. If all you can do is mimic others, you lack your own creativity, but if you can’t mimic others, you lack understanding of how others write. Both can limit you. I tend to be good at mimicry. I already know I will never be someone to sit down and write a novel. I have too much going on in the world around me to create a brand new one, but I do love to think about what I could add to a story.

I did a book club on “Speak” by Laurie Halse Anderson last year. My final meeting included having the teens write their own epilogue to the book. Just for fun, I’ll let you all see what I wrote in a later post this coming week.

But authors are losing themselves. You have authors that take over a series and just continue on someone else’s work. Where are the new distinctive voices? Where are the ones that I can’t wait to read because I know they will draw me in. Rarely do I find I book that I just can’t put down anymore.

Many author biographies I read talk about how much the author loved to write just for themselves. It wasn’t necessarily about creating something for other people, it was about writing something they could enjoy. They loved the process. They loved coming up with something new.

So I challenge you to go out and create something new! Do it for yourself! You don’t have to publish anything. You don’t have to do it for anyone else. Part of the joys of writing is for your own enjoyment. Go create. Make art or a story. Make a pie or a painting. Go create. Add beauty to the world. Share the beauty with your friends. You don’t have to have everyone love you. Stop writing for the world. Go write for you. To quote The Greatest Showman

Keep Sparkling

B

The loss of Professionalism in Literature

B

“Write what you know. So they say. All I know is I don’t know what to write, or the right way to write it. This is big! Lady, don’t screw it up. This is not some little vaudeville I’m reviewing!”

This is what goes through my head every time I sit down to write. Every time! These lyrics from Newsies race through my head as I desperately try to figure out how to say things in a way that will make people care. Which words should I use? Have I revised enough times? Can I make something better? This is revision six? Do I need a revision seven? Which leads me to my thoughts for today.

With so much available to self-publish a book and the idea that “anyone can do anything” we are losing some of the value of literature. I can’t tell you what makes one book “literature” and another not but I can tell you that there is a quality of writing there. There is an intentionality of word choice.

So many of the Teen books I read nowadays have lost some of the professional touch to them. They sound colloquial not only in their speech but in their text. You can have a character who is colloquial and still sound polished. Look at Dickens! His books are filled with lower-class characters who speak in their own dialects and yet his descriptors are what make it professional. Yet so much of what I find today “dumbs down” the word usage and language in order to be more approachable for Teens. Why are we lowering our standards instead of teaching our Teens and Students to reach to a higher level?

One of my high school teachers continually told us to “raise the bar”. Meaning if we’ve reached a level that we understand or we know what we’re doing, raise the bar again so we can keep aiming higher. He taught Science. It probably won’t come as a surprise to know that Science is not my strong suit, but I excelled in his class. He taught me how to keep pushing to be better and never be satisfied with being “good enough”. But this is what we have done with many books that are being published.

There was a Teen book that came out in the last few years. It got a lot of hype. It was a great story. I loved the character development and the story arc. But I didn’t love the writing. EVERYONE talked about how important and great this book was. But I think that quality should trump content every time. If it’s not a well-written book, I don’t want to hand it to a patron coming into my library.

This isn’t to say that more people shouldn’t write books. Or even to say that people shouldn’t self-publish books. This is to say that we should learn our craft! There is a reason that we go to college and study. There is a reason there are entire Bachelor’s degrees dedicated to Writing or Literature. Take the time to learn your craft. You wouldn’t assume to be a teacher if you’ve never had any training. You wouldn’t walk into court and call yourself a lawyer if you’ve not passed the Bar exam. Don’t just assume you can be an author without first taking some time to learn your craft.  To quote one of my favorite Professors from college “Get more knowledge, at college”.

Keep Sparkling,

B

Jo and Laurie- How it Should have Ended

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As promised. Here is a bit of what my idea of the “correct” ending of Little Women should have been.

We enter the scene after Jo has returned from New York City, Beth has passed away.

Beth was gone. That was fact. No matter how much wishing I did she was gone. No more would her kind and quiet words guide me. She had always been my shining light. I didn’t realize just how much I needed her until she was gone.

My new project would be in her honor. The beauty of our lives together as women. That was all Beth ever wanted. All of us here together. That probably included Laurie in her mind. I know she always loved the idea of having a brother. I’m not sure she would ever say it but I think she was a little afraid of being left behind. A little afraid that we would all forget about her. This would be her moment. My memorial to her. So no one could ever forget my Beth.

Sorting through her things in the attic did little to ease my pain but it gave me somewhere to start. The Pickwick Papers, her trunk of things. All of it made me sad, and yet it was cathartic.

I wished Bhaer had met her. He would have loved how sweet Beth was. Thinking of him only put a prick in my heart. I fancied myself in love with him for a short time but I’d come to realize that wasn’t what it really was. I appreciated his passion. I appreciated that he challenged me. I liked his companionship, but that’s all it was. Companionship. Watching Meg with John Brooke had showed me that. They weren’t just companions. They were something more. Their souls touched. They connected in a way beyond anything I could ever have with the Professor.

I heard a squeak of floorboards behind me.

“I’m not ready to come down yet Marmee. I need some time to think of Beth before I can talk about it,” I quietly said.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Marmee.”

Turning around I saw the one person who could make it better. The one person whom my heart was longing to see. I didn’t realize how much I needed him. How incomplete I felt. But there he was. My Laurie. My dear Teddy. Gathering my skirts I quickly stood and flung myself into his arms as he took the three steps to meet me.

“It’s alright now Jo. I’m here. I’m here,” he said into my hair. He stroked my hair and held me for what felt like forever. Resting in the warmth, comfort, and love of his embrace I didn’t want to ever leave this moment. If I could just stay here then everything would be right. All would be well.

But I soon realized that I was lacking a great deal of propriety, even more than usual. I began to back up.

“Forgive me Teddy. You’ve just arrived and I’ve behaved like a fool already. Throwing myself at you and falling into your arms. I’m sure you’ve gotten much too old for my theatrical behavior.”

“Never Jo,” he replied with a slight smile on his lips. “I shall never forgive you for throwing yourself into my arms.”

“Oh Teddy stop teasing! You know what I mean!” I replied, adamant that he understand me.

“You’ve never been too theatrical for me. Just passionate. And who would deny you that?” he asked plainly. There was something different about him now. He stood straighter. More self-assured. No longer the cocky boy I knew, but a confident man. I realized he was no longer “my Teddy” but someone altogether new. I knew him, and yet I didn’t.

“I’m sure you have many other women to throw themselves into your arms. Why would you need me to do it also?” I teased as I walked a few more paces away from him.

He remained quiet. He hadn’t moved from his spot just inside the doorway. What was it about those eyes? I had seen this look once before, when he proposed. I had been such a silly fool. Well, we both had. He for proposing and me for refusing in such a way. We wouldn’t have ever worked. We were much too young but now…. Well that was something I wouldn’t even entertain. He had been to Europe. He was a man. My silly mind was running away with me.

“So tell me everything Teddy! Forgive me- Laurie. I’m sure you are much too grown-up to be called Teddy now,” I rushed to say. Backing up a few steps to take the seat at my desk I decided to stop talking. Why was I rambling? This was Teddy. He wasn’t someone to be nervous around and yet I was sure I had never sounded so foolish before.

“Well Grandfather and I have spoken. He has decided to let me come home to work. He thinks I have greatly improved myself. I’ll admit I was living quite… wild. Almost like a villain out of one of our theatricals we used to put on,” he chuckled. “But Amy,” he paused. “She set me straight when I saw her. She reminded me of who I could be. Since then I have mended my ways, straightened out. Become a man so to say, ” he laughed as he said it. His face turned serious as he took a few steps nearer me. “When I got your letter. Jo. I had to come. I couldn’t wait another second. I brought Amy with me. She’s downstairs. I knew you would want me to get her and bring her home too. But Jo. Honest. I only did it so I could see you. To know that you are still in one piece. That you are still, whole.”

He said it so simply and yet I felt my heart warm and thrill. He wanted to check on me? He wanted to make sure I was okay.

“Well of course Laurie! Didn’t we always say you were like our brother? What more could we need now to make our family whole than to have my sister and our brother here?” My mind was racing. What was I saying. My brother? If I had taken a second to admit it I would tell him that he was so much more than that now. That he was my best friend. My confidant. The one that made my world feel like it was upright. He made me feel like I could do anything.

My thoughts were interrupted as he said, “Your brother Jo? Is that still what I am?”

“Well what else would you be?” I laughingly said.

“That’s my question Jo. What else could we be? I think you know I’ve become a man. I’m not a boy any longer. That boy who proposed to you so very long ago didn’t know what he was doing. I was fanciful and full of folly. But now. Oh Jo. Say the word and I would do anything I can to endeavor to deserve you! I know you deserve so much more than I could offer but please Jo, let me try. I’ve changed. I know you’ll see it! You are a glorious mystery and puzzle I want to spend the rest of my life learning how to solve and how to support.”

His words fell off as he looked at me. I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Who was this person. He was right of course. But if I admitted that, it would change everything. What if I wrecked it? What if it fell apart? Was it worth the risk? I had already lived my life without him for so long. Maybe I could not only live it but love my life with him? I was reminded of a conversation I had with Professor Bhaer and some of the scholars while in New York City.

“While I was in New York a group of us had a conversation,” I began as Laurie looked at me, puzzled. “One man mentioned a Proverb about how ‘It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings.’ He said he felt it was this way when he was pursuing his wife. That her heart was the matter God had concealed and it made him feel like a king to know he had won it. He said that her heart was worth more than any knowledge he could gain by philosophizing the day away. Would you say that’s how you feel about me?”

He opened his mouth to answer but I held up my hand. “No rash words Laurie. Really? Is this how you feel about me?” He paused for a moment.

“My beautiful, wonderful Jo. You are the most glorious creature I could ever hope to hold in my arms. The most wonderful woman I could ever hope to know. Could you really ever doubt it? Grandfather has given me time off to write music. Can’t you see our lives? The author and the composer? Living our lives to bring beauty to the world. You are beauty itself and yet you seek to let the world have more of you!” he said, sounding pleased. “Please Jo. Be my wife. Let me spend my whole life, how did you put it? Searching out a way to win your heart, in order to feel like a king.”

My soul felt like it had began to soar. “Oh Laurie. My heart has been yours for a long time. I didn’t realize it. I didn’t want to realize it. But when you walked in the door I knew. You have seen me at my worst and my best, and yet you still want me. You don’t have to seek out my heart. It’s already yours.”

And with that he took me in his arms and kissed me. A sweet, slow kiss. One that connected our souls. One that held promise. The promise to love me. The promise to hold me. And that was enough. I might never be a famous author and he may never publish any music, but we would be together. And that would be enough.

These characters are based on the book “Little Women” by Lousia May Alcott. They are not my own creation and I do not take credit for their creation. This is simply my idea of how the story should have gone.

When the Author Gets it Wrong

B

I tend to be a “the author knows best” person. This is the world they created. They know best! I’m also a piano teacher and I stress to my students that whatever style the composer wrote the song in, we play it that way first! I am so on board with the artist being the one to determine the style and the ending! But…. sometimes they don’t know what they are doing!

Sometimes the author is just so wrong I can’t even handle it! Sometimes it seems like they’ve forgotten who their characters are!

I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, “If you have such a problem with it B, then become an author. Write your own ending.” And trust me, there are times I do! I’ve never put it out there for anyone else but sometimes my mind just needs the closure of the, in my humble opinion, “right” ending.

There aren’t many times I feel deeply about this but there is one in particular case that I still feel is all wrong. I’m sorry Lousia May Alcott, but Jo should have ended up with Laurie in “Little Women”.

For those of you who don’t know the story- go read it. Right now. Do nothing for the next three days and then come back and finish this blog. I give you permission. Go.

And, welcome back. I’m assuming you all did what I told you to right? 😉 Otherwise I’ll warn you SPOILERS AHEAD!

Anyways, My Jo and My Laurie.

In Little Women we see a house of women who have fun and are lively and they all grow up to get great endings. Or so we would think. Alcott is no Austen. Austen promised that, after a little trouble, all her characters would have happy endings and marriages. Alcott did not feel the same way. You can read interviews where Alcott did not want Jo to even end up in a relationship at all. Alcott only did it because the pressure from her fans was so heavy ( yay for the power of the people!). And yet, I feel like Alcott’s ending was unsatisfactory.

Jo and her neighbor Laurie are best friends. He adores Jo. He wants nothing more than to create music and see Jo be happy. Jo wants to write and she doesn’t think Laurie and her would do well together because they would fight. Well I’m sorry to be reality here Jo, but couples fight. They aren’t always happy and if you have no disagreements, I almost question if you are even in a real relationship. Laurie wants to see her write. Wants her to write out of joy, not out of necessity of money. Jo shifts the kind of writing she does purely to make money, with Laurie she wouldn’t have to.

Jo’s adventure in New York City where she meets Professor Bhaer is almost perfect. He challenges her to be a better writer. He takes on the role of mentor. But the romance makes no sense. The age gap is wide and the intellectual gap is there also. Bhaer feels more like a father than a husband. No Louisa May Alcott! Just no!

But Laurie, insert dreamy sigh. Laurie is wonderful. And yet, Alcott undersells him too. Laurie so desperately wants to be part of Jo’s family that he marries Jo’s younger sister. The age gap between the two isn’t so extreme but it still doesn’t make sense. Jo’s sister’s chastisement of Laurie when they are abroad makes Laurie rethink things. He becomes more serious. He wants to be a better man. But there is no build up of romance between the two.

Jo initially rejected Laurie’s proposal. I understand. They were both very young.

But I can’t help feeling that if Laurie had come back after Jo’s sister Beth died, when they had both grown up a bit, they could have been very happy together. His first proposal was that of a boy. If he had proposed again, it would have been as a man.

These are my thoughts. My very strong thoughts. But they are just mine. Perhaps there is a story that you feel is written with a “wrong” ending.

There is a whole world of people who believe that the author has gotten it wrong and they’ve done something about it! And this beautiful thing is called- fanfiction. Now mind you, fanfiction is not always of the highest quality. Fanficition is not always clean reading. But fanfiction is a beautiful way to find the ending you long to see. So if you want a different ending, go and find it! Go and write it! Use that creative thing that sits on your shoulders called your head. And inside that head is your brain! That beautiful creative thing that longs to create. We were all designed to create something! Go create! Write your own endings! Write your own stories! I set you free my sparkling darlings!

Keep Sparkling

-B

P.S. Be watching for a special extra post this week in which I give you a bit of what it would have looked like if I had written part of “Little Women”. Just a little fanfiction from me!

The Manic Pixie Dream Girl Issue

B

When I first heard this term I immediately thought

I was slightly wrong.

For those of you who, like I was two weeks ago, are unaware of this term, Nathan Rabin says “a Manic Pixie Dream Girl exists to help the protagonist achieve happiness without ever seeking any independent goals herself”.

I recently read a review for a book coming out this March called “The Manic Pixie Dream Boy Improvement Project” by Lenore Appelhans. I thought the idea intriguing but I honestly didn’t know what a “Manic Pixie Dream Boy” was. Upon my research I discovered the theory of the “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”. Her sole purpose is to support and to help the man on his journey. She has no function in life except to serve him and show him how to lighten-up.

The main examples that I found used over and over again were “Elizabethtown” and “Roman Holiday”. In Elizabethtown, the main character is depressed and has just come off a huge loss at work. He has failed. This crazy girl whizzes into his life, takes him on a grand adventure, and gives him a reason to live again. That sounds awesome right!

Who wouldn’t want a friend to come swirling into their lives making everything better? What kid didn’t want Mary Poppins to come and add some magic to their world. In Elizabethtown we never find out why she is helping him. There is no story of her own.

I understand the importance of not under-developing characters but I also think that there is something we need to acknowledge in these characters. As much as this may sound sexist, that is the female character’s purpose in the particular story. Their purpose is to bolster the main character because….. THEY’RE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER.

When you have a story told through the eyes of one specific person, whatever is seen will have the slant of that person. You can’t tell the back story of every single character in a movie. You can’t even tell the entire backstory of every character in a tv series.

Think back through your life. How many of the “characters” in your life did you view, at one time or another, as solely there to bolster you? You didn’t think about what they did outside of their time with you, you just knew they helped you when they were there. Think about how you viewed your parents while you were living at home. How many of us were surprised the first time we saw our teachers outside of school and realized that they didn’t live at school?

I understand how this trope can be damaging or difficult but let’s be honest, in all of our minds we are the main character of our own story. We decide how the story moves forward and we decide who gets to be in it. It’s no different in books. Let’s just admit that sometimes we’re all a little selfish and sometimes we don’t think about others. Sometimes we’re takers and not givers. And maybe sometimes we get to be the Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or boy) for someone else. Let’s appreciate this trope because it can mimic real life.

Keep Sparkling,

B

The Hidden Secret of Libraries

B

There is a massively undervalued and hidden secret of the Library.

This secret makes everything happen.

From programming, to ordering new books, to processing. None of this could happen without this best kept secret.

That secret…. is the Librarian.

I know. That was kind of obvious. But really. Patrons don’t realize the amazing resource they have when they come into the library.

Most people who come into employment at the library do not have a degree in library science but they are expected to have that and more! We’re expected to be a walking card catalog, a customer service representative, an event planner, and an artist. It’s a lot, but it’s amazing.

I absolutely love my job. I love that I get to interact with the public. I love that I get to talk about the library and help people realize how vibrant and important the library is. I get to help fight the decline of literacy! I love what I do and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

That being said, a lot of people in the current society of America do not fully value the library. In fact, there was a post written about how libraries were no longer needed due to Amazon bookstores. People were so enraged by this that the company was forced to take the article down!

The library is the forgotten part of the community. But where would we be without it? We know it’s there and we know it has value but we don’t take advantage of everything that goes on there.

When children are young, they spend their mornings at Storytime and in book clubs but eventually they seem to drift away. They stop coming in for books and they stop valuing the amazing resources available to them.

Did you know that most libraries have W2 forms available? Did you know that most libraries have resources about the GED? Did you know that most libraries get new books in every month? Did you know that most libraries are becoming more like community centers? Places for people to meet and be together? It’s a beautiful thing.

The library is important. The library has value. Do not forget this. Do not let yourself fall into the realm of people who stop frequenting the library. And to every librarian out there who also has to be a customer service rep, an artist, an event planner, and a walking card catalog- thank you. You are an important part of your community. You matter. Thank you for all that you do.

My Dearest Miss Jane Austen, You’ve Ruined Me

B

My dearest Miss Jane Austen,

As much as I must stick to formality I wish I could call you as I do in my head as simply “Jane”. But decorum dictates that I address you, as the younger daughter, as “Miss Jane Austen” instead of simply “Miss Austen”. I have imagined many conversations that we might have engaged in on many a dreary afternoon. Conversations on the merits of women and the ill-temperedness of men. Conversations of heartbreak and love. But none of this is really the purpose of my letter. I wish to both thank and scold you.

You have raised my standards to impossible heights. For what man can hope to be a Knightly? Who can hope to find a “Bingley”? And what of the charming and witty Tilney?

Darcy never particularly appealed to me but mostly because it took him so long to do anything. Knightly was steadily there. Bingley was openly fascinated and in love. Tilney flirted and teased from the start. But I will give you that you wrote Darcy perfectly for Lizzie. But I digress.

I feel the need to scold you for giving me these thoughts and wishes. These men may have very real character flaws but they still ended up in perfectly happy marriages. You’ve made me wistful for the charmed life these characters lead. And yet, as a 21st century woman, I am not at all fascinated by chamber pots, pumping my own water, or the lack of internet.

More than scold you, and even that I do in the most kind of ways, I wish to thank you. You have perfectly set my heart at ease. For though I often use your books for escape, I find myself in many of your female characters.

Most people would believe me to be an Emma. Self assured. Proud. In control. Wanting to tell others what they should do for romance while staying far from it myself.

But I find myself drawn to her relationship with her friends. They see how silly she can be and yet they forgive and love her. Knightly can scold her and yet she can bear it well. She cares deeply.

I have always had a fondness for Katherine Morland. Her love of novels. Her silly nature. Her naive understanding of the world.

And yet the Tilney’s adore her. She stands up under great scrutiny. She learns things the hard way but the point is she learns! Mr. Tilney loves her in spite of her silliness. He loves her for her naivete! I can relate to wanting that.

Look at Anne Elliot! Ignored by her family but coming alive around others! Look at who she can be with the military men and the Musgroves! She is proven worthy of love!

Look at how she blooms in the time away from her family! She shows, in her interactions with Harville, that she is clever and can hold her own. Though her family may not recognize her value, as shown through her Father and sisters, everyone else thinks her capable and important. I love her.

Elinor and Marianne Dashwood make beautifully splendid juxtaposition. I immediately relate to Marianne. Passionate and wanting everyone around me to feel that same passion. Refusing to be silenced! And yet, she finds that under the quiet care of a patient and loving man her edges are smoothed and her world is righted.

Elinor finds that emotion is not always a bad thing. She brings rightness to the world around her. By her presence there is peace in their cottage. I wish to be both of these women.

And now for Lizzie and Jane. You named her after yourself. I wonder if this is because you wish you could have her life? Did you write yourself a happy ending? I’m not sure, but I love Jane. Her ability to see good in all people. I love Lizzie. Her devotion to her family and her ability to see past her mother’s silliness. She has to endure a lot to finally realize she was wrong, but when she realizes it, she admits it.

I wish I was the perfect conglomeration of all these women. They are not the best of women but I think they reveal something about the heart of a woman. That she is fierce, loyal, and important. That there is beauty to be found in the quietest of us, Anne, and the loudest of us, Emma and Lizzie. So thank you My dearest Miss Jane Austen. You have added beauty to my world and given me women to aspire to be.

-B