A "Book" Revisited

Back in March I posted a little something about reading works that were once fan-fiction but have been self-published. The topic of one of the works I discussed has come up over and over again in the last couple of months. 

The Fifty Shades of Grey Series is not something I would consider literary genius.  I can't even consider it decent literature.  There are so many errors and repetitive use of words and phrases that it becomes difficult for me to read.  It's annoying because I know that I've read something similar just a few paragraphs back.

What prompted today's post started out so simply. 

A very dear friend of mine texted me this morning with a link to this article on Crushable.com.  She thought I would get a kick out of it because she knew how I felt about the subject matter.  The author of the article, Natalie Zutter, let the cat out of the proverbial bag about E.L. James' true feelings about those that helped her to get where she is today.  She's making millions of dollars thanks to those that loved her "original" story.

If you read the article, you find out that Fifty Shades of Grey was originally written as fan-fiction.  The name of it was Master of the Universe (affectionately known as MotU) and yes, it was Twilight fan-fiction. What does that mean?  Well, Christian and Ana were originally Edward and Bella.  James built a huge fan base through the Twilight fandom, and if you believe the quotes from a former confidant, she doesn't much appreciate those people.  

The article did spark a question in my mind.  How did Zutter find out about James' dislike of the fandom?  Did she speak directly with the source or pull from a blog?  A bit of a search took me to the spot I was looking for--which brought a great amount of respect for Zutter because she obviously believes in doing her research well.  I found the original source known as "gentleblaze"--well her journal.  Actually her final journal entry.  

I try not to judge people that are so negative--it takes me down a road I don't want to go down--because I'd hate for anyone to judge me so harshly.  I'm sure gentleblaze aka AngstGoddess003 had her reasons for doing what she did.  To be honest, if James had told me how she felt, I don't know that I could have kept that to myself either.  I'd want the fandom that adored her so much and gave her such high praise to know the truth. 

Psst...she doesn't really like you. 

What is sadder still is that James contends that Fifty Shades of Grey is an original work.  She even has Vintage Publishing backing her claim.  Those that read MotU before it was pulled know that this is false. James did pull the story down from Fanfiction.net and Twilighted.  She even went as far as to shut down her site 50shades.com.  If you were to try to go to that site now, it shoots you over to James' current site.  

I understand the drive to get published, believe me, I do.  When you get where you eventually hope to be, you should praise those that helped you get there.  Why would you try to ignore them as if they were a kid throwing their fourth tantrum of the day because you don't want anyone to know they're yours? Oh...wait...is that what it is?

I decided to go ahead and watch Erika James on The View.  One of the things that truly bothered me was that she couldn't look any of the hosts in the eye when speaking to them. She kept playing with her mug of water or looking at the table, finding the grain rather interesting.

"I had no idea so many people had been reading the story." 

Really?  Have she really forgotten about all those people in the world of fan-fiction that helped her with her research and kept telling her how great she was?  Is her memory that short?  Apparently so.

She also said she had an idea and put the "idea" out there. Well, let's see, she put more than the idea out.  She wrote the full story and put it out there on her website.  People have pdf copies of the entire thing.  If you google it, MotU can be found available for download. 

To this day, I don't think MotU should have been published. It was a mess then and it remains a mess.  The editing is bad, there is constant repetitiveness, and let me just say, inaccurate on certain subject matter.  I cannot believe the bull rubbish that she is spilling in these interviews. 

I was laughing my fool ass arse off about the BS-storm from James' camp regarding 50 Shades. I did find some very interesting articles.

For example: Vintage, James' publisher and an extension of Random House, says that MotU and FSoG are two distinct fiction pieces.

 **choking cough**  

There was an actual analysis done.  The gist of it, 89% the same. The 11% difference includes name changes and punctuation additions. Yeah...not at all impressed, but it was interesting to see the few changes she did make.  89% the same does not make two distinct works of fiction.  So sorry.

In the Summer of 2010 a woman by the name of Anne taught a unit in Twilight fanfiction for her Theories of Popular Culture course.  Her blog has the information on the coursework and I found it interesting. I think I may have liked that class and probably would have ripped James' story apart. Oops! Did I say that?   

I found another blogger that brought some interesting points. Fan-fiction cannot be copyrighted.  Not truly.  It's a bit of a GREY area, but the gist of it is that if it's on the net, sadly it falls under "fair use".

I did the research.  A person would have to pay a copyright fee for every piece of work written.  You can't do a general copyright based on your name.  For that you'd need a trademark and the requirements for that get even hairier.  Now James is published and her story copyrighted as Fifty Shades, so under those laws MotU is still fair use.

DISCLAIMER: I have nothing to do with legal.

That being said, I am sure a lawyer could figure out a way to say that MotU was copyrighted.

Where Has Education Gone?

"Education is no substitute for pure raw talent.  However,
it is a good foundation on which talent may build."  ~ David Allio

We all hear about education dollars being cut from states's budgets, schools laying off good educators because they can't afford them, programs being cut in our schools, etcetera...it's all disheartening.  So when one goes to a choir concert at an elementary school, there is hope that some school districts understand the need for the arts as well as education.

Fast forward to the end of an auditorium filled with joyful noise.  The choir director became rather vocal and told all that were gathered that, though she is happy to be kept on after this school year, her program is being cut from three one-hour sessions a week to one half-hour session a week.  Using my skills in Mathematics, rounding up, her program is being cut down by 83%.  Eighty-three percent!

Say you heard that your favorite TV program was just told that their budget was cut and instead of having forty-three minutes of programing to film, they had to fit all of it into seven minutes, 18 seconds.  Could they do that?  Would you still like the show?  Would you be satisfied with the content?

Try this?  You're used to getting a full business week to complete a presentation or a comprehensive report.  You now have six hours and 48 minutes.  Talk about cramming!  Good luck with that.

One more...You're used to making $32,000 a year, budget cuts means you have to take an 83% cut in pay.  Could you live off of $5440 a year?  No?  Scarily enough, some are trying.

Not so easy is it?  Hard to imagine, yet this is what is happening to children's education.

This is only the latest thing to really upset me over what is happening to our educational system.  Three short weeks ago, I was sitting with my niece and she was so proud as she showed me all her hard work.  She was excited for me to see just how well she's been doing in school.  I was looking over one of her rough drafts and noticed there were no marks on the paper except for a "100/100".  There were no notes for improvement in the margins, no kudos.  When I asked her why this was so, she told me that students were getting 100% for turning in their rough drafts.  Just for turning it in!

I, being the way that I am, looked over her draft and saw misspellings, flow issues, punctuation issues, and grammar errors.  I couldn't believe that nothing had been written on this paper by the teacher!  I wasn't at all pleased and decided to work with her on it.  We spent well over an hour discussing the paper and correcting some of the issues.  I made sure that she understood each step that we had gone over.  She ended up getting a good grade, but it made me angry that the teacher gave no direction.

"A proper education enables young people to put their lives in order,
which means knowing what things are more important than other things;
it means putting first things first.
~Wendell Berry

What has happened to our educational structure?

When I was little--in elementary/junior high school--I had art, choir, band and physical education. Art class was once a week with band and choir taking up the other four days of the school week.  Physical education was mandatory five days a week.  I was still taught for a full hour on each of the following subjects: Social Studies/History, Science, Language Arts/English, and Mathematics.

How in the world did this all break down to Physical Education twice a week and Arts programs that are virtually non-existent?  How did educators become so lax in being certain that their students understood the objective?  When did teaching become about only the positives in our nation's history?

When we were younger and fell down, didn't we learn how to get back up without being coddled?  When you got into trouble at school, you went to detention and were not allowed to take your music with you.  You did your school work or the teacher in charge of detention would make sure you had work to do.

I probably should have known this beforehand, but I decided to check and see just how many of our education dollars have been taken away from our kids (by "our kids," I mean family, friends, acquaintances and those I have yet to meet).  I did some research and what I found, shocked the hell heck out of me.

In my state alone, the education budget for fiscal year 2012 was cut by $488,989,600. If you think that's bad, since fiscal year 2009 the budget has been cut by $2,033,762,269.  This sum includes salaries and pensions, maintenance on sites and vehicles, building new schools, supplies, transportation, sports, arts programs, extra-curricular activities, and so much more.  All previously mentioned are necessary to ensure that the kids are being taken care of mind, body and culture.

So where has the money gone?

That's a good and fair question, don't you think?

I have seen that they've erected monuments at the capital, increased politician pay, spent more money to police the border between the United States and Mexico, spent money to entertain out-of-town politicians in a goodwill gesture, and paid--and continue to pay--consultants and accountants to figure out how to better plan our state's future by researching our previous laws and budgets.

How are we faring?

Obviously, not any better.

"A man's mind may be likened to a garden,
which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild;

but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will bring forth.

If no useful seeds are put into it,

then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein,

and will continue to produce their kind."

~James Allen

Must Give Parents Credit Where Credit is Due

I don't have kids of my own, not by choice, but I do have numerous nieces and nephews.  I know it's not the same, but it's what I have, and I am dealing with what I have been given.  I often envy mothers for the treasure they've been blessed with.  I know what some of you mothers are thinking, "She's off her rocker!" If I were in your shoes, I may be saying the same, but I'm not and probably won't be, so my vision is a bit skewed.  Indulge me, because I think you will appreciate what I have to say.

You know the quote, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"?  That is what happened early this morning.  I had planned to do a few DIY projects at the house today, but I was in no hurry to get out of bed.  As a matter of fact, I was passed out and in a very dreamy state when my phone pulled me out.  Lately, I've been sleeping through the melody, but today I was easily yanked "off stage right" by it at 7am.

I was being asked to play mommy for the day.  My two littlest nieces were the only ones that were in good health in a house of six.  Their mother was too weak to care for them and the rest of the house was not fairing much better.  I, of course, agreed to the undertaking of such an awesome responsibility.  Why wouldn't I? They are my nieces, and I love them to pieces.

I knew I would not be able to get my projects done for the day, but I figured I could definitely get some chores done that I had planned to put off until tomorrow.  That should be the easiest thing, right? Uh, yeah... Not really.  It is definitely something you have to be used to.  I watch them often, but never really for more than four hours by myself.  Usually, I just leave a hole in my day, so that I can spend time playing games, having tea, building castles out of chairs and blankets or seeing what Mickey Mouse's latest escapade was that week.

I picked them up and brought them over to my home. After bringing their items in, I began to cook their breakfast while attempting to make myself a much needed cup of coffee.  I am no good in the mornings without my medium-dark roast.  I have a Keurig machine so it couldn't be easier, right?  I mean all you do is pop a K-cup in, turn it on, once the blue light flashes, close it up, press the appropriate size (LARGE today) and viola, a deliciously aromatic cup of joe.  For some reason, it wasn't so simple today.

I nearly burned the eggs, because I had lost focus and was staring down the toaster instead of the stove.  I finished making our breakfast and sat down with them to eat a slice of toast. I only realized I'd forgotten my coffee when I went to reach for the cup I thought I'd brought to the table with me.  I went to the kitchen and couldn't find my favorite insulated cup--that I wash daily just to use it--the blue lights are flashing, and I still have the apple juice container sitting on the counter.  I go to put it away, and find my cup, sitting where the apple juice bottle had been shelved earlier.

How do you mothers get through your mornings?!  Although, in my defense, I was awakened off schedule, I hope structure helps you all get through.

The day progressed pretty well.  After breakfast, and my second cup of coffee, I got the girls dressed (forcibly with the youngest), and went to our kid-friendly room in the house--the Disney room.  We played a little before I decided I needed to clean up breakfast and I thought, "why not?"  I may as well clean the entire kitchen.  Oh, if only.

Only thirty seconds in the kitchen and I hear the toddling little feet heading in my direction.  It started out innocently enough with a simple request to watch Snow White.  Then another request to sit for this one part I had to see--"Watch this, it's good. No not that part, it's coming. Sit here with me." She pats the couch and I obey like a good auntie.  About halfway through the movie, I tried to get up again, but it was drawing time!  Something to do while watching the movie.  I figured it was no big deal, because the busier they were, the busier I could get at cleaning the house.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Lunch happened soon after that, and of course we couldn't agree on one meal, so I made three.  Last night's leftovers for me, PB&J with carrot sticks for the little and grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple junks for the littlest little.  Then it was time for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, because the little buggers remembered that I'd said they could watch it after lunch.  Since I hadn't been clear enough on the timing of said viewing, the loophole I'd left allowed a minor manipulation in the agreement.  These kids are good!  Little angels!

Someone needs to put a camera on a kid from the time of their birth and figure out when they begin to gain skills in manipulation and debate.

Of course, littlest little one decides I need to sit and promptly crawls onto my lap and cuddles against my chest.  She passes out within five minutes of doing so, and the other little is asking for a snack.  I told her that she could have one when littlest little woke from her nap.  I take the cuddler to the Disney room and lie her down, and yay for me, she didn't even stir!  Ten minutes later little miss "I have to have a snack now" conks out.

PEACE at last!

Now there came a debate between my head and my body.  Do I nap with them, knowing perfectly well that I may not be sleeping tonight, or do I get some work done around the house?  House won. Damnit!  Although, in hindsight, I suppose it didn't really matter much.  While I was able to get the dishwasher loaded and running, Littlest Little awoke ten minutes later and attempted to rouse her still sleeping older sister.  That was a battle.  I tried to get her to hang with me in the Disney room, but she really wanted her sister.

Before I knew it, the older little woke up, I gave them their snack and we Skyped with another aunt of their's.  All of a sudden I look at the clock and it is nearly 6pm and I hadn't even begun to cook dinner.  I rushed in, started dinner and found out that the dear, sweet man that I call my husband, was not going to be home for dinner.  LUCKY!

The older little came into the kitchen and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked if she felt like food was going to come out of her mouth or if she felt like the potty would help. She chose the latter and when she came back out, she seemed okay.  I was finishing up dinner when she came in and told me that she wasn't hungry, and she began to cry. HARD.  I texted her mother--because I didn't want to wake her--let her know what all was going on and asked her what she would like me to do.

Twenty minutes later, just as I'm getting the kids in their carseats, Mama and Daddy show up to take them home.  I had been with those two toddlers for less than ten hours.  I was exhausted and didn't realize that I had once again overstretched a muscle near my ribs, until I bent to pick up a cracker off the floor.

You stay-at-home mothers and fathers...I don't know whether to envy you or give you a medal for all that you go through on a daily basis.  You need a lot of patience, a phonetic toddler to adult glossary, be willing to give up control and give up sleep.

I won't call you saints, because no one wants to live up to that kind of ideal, but you are damn near.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and I had painfully intense physical therapy not too long ago.  I applaud your every effort.  How you keep your sanity when there is so much chaos to be dealt with, I'll probably never know.  I don't believe anyone could truly fathom it.

I cleaned seven spills, wiped down the bathroom three times, kept a toddler from eating dog food and a dog treat, picked up the playroom twice, stood guard over Timeout Tower, etc...Long ass day.

A Love for One's Own Creativity

If you haven't been able to tell already, I love cooking almost as much as I love writing.  I can't express enough how much creating something with my own mind or hands thrills me.  What heightens the pleasure I get from it, is the pleasure that others gain from my creations.  If I can see smiles on faces, second helpings--or thirds--being taken from the serving dishes, or hear pleadings for a recipe, I know I've earned my praise.

When someone reads a story of mine, and then gets upset when it ends or is incomplete, I get a little pleasure from that because it means that I've done a good job...in most cases.  Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't written enough, but then I remember as a reader, I am not always satisfied when a story ends.  

A recipe of a good writer includes knowing how to leave some of the story to the imagination.  A reader can often create an image of a character in their mind, but it can differ from another reader's.  As a writer, you never want to write every detail of your character's image or life, right down to their death.  There's a reason fairy tales end with "...and they lived happily ever after."  They knew that the reader didn't want to hear about the pain of the female character's pregnancy or that the main characters struggled to hold their love life together while juggling purpose and occupation.  They knew we didn't want to know that the male character suffered a long painful death, while his wife cried daily by his bedside, watching him wither away.  Fiction is an escape from the very real situations in life, so most want the happy endings; sometimes in more ways than one.  

We all want our happy endings, but the truth is, they aren't always.  What if Snow White had eaten that poison apple while the dwarves were away and the prince had been slain by the Queen's dragon form?  What if true love's first kiss couldn't have saved Snow?

Courtesy mamuvies.blogspot.com

I know...

No one likes to think about it.  

They like the fairytale ending.

Happily ever after is more pleasing to the mind.

I, however, am one of those readers that doesn't at all mind reading the good with the bad, because frankly it makes me feel better reading about someone else having those same struggles.  It makes me feel as though I am not alone in how I feel.  I like feeling connected to the characters in that way.  That is what I try to incorporate into my writing.

When it comes to my cooking, I desperately want that happy ending.  I am constantly abusing using my husband in a "guinea pig" fashion.  He doesn't always mind, but I know when I've done something truly good because he has a tell.  He dances while chewing.  It's both the funniest and most adorable thing I've ever witnessed in my life.  It's when I know that I've had that happy ending in my recipe's story.

My husband did a little secret shopping last week.  He knew I'd been wanting to try buying fresh, locally grown products.  I'd told him that I wanted to see if there was a marked difference between buying these products and the products from the store chains.  I am already a mostly "from scratch" cook, so I wanted to take it another step further.  I can say with 100% certainty that there is indeed a difference.  Not just in helping my neighbors with their livelihood, but the taste of those products I used that were fresh.

Shipping is a terrible thing to do to vegetables.
They probably get jet-lagged, just like people.
~Elizabeth Berry

My wonderful, adoring, loving husband purchased green beans, carrots, asparagus, potatoes, onions, and garlic.  The difference was amazing! The colors were brighter and the taste seemed...cleaner?  I don't know quite how to describe it really.  What I can say is that I will be more than happy to purchase from my neighbors, weekly.  The reward was in the taste, and I won't soon forget it.

I know I had said at the top of the year that I wanted to experiment with food more this year.  So far I've made my own cranberry chutney/sauce, chicken soup, creamy cheese sauce, roasted picante salsa, and chicken stock.  All without the aid of a recipe and husband approved by chew-dancing.

When you finish a recipe and others take pleasure in it, you have to admit, you take pride in what you've done more than if you had stopped at the restaurant and picked up a pizza.  

When Old Projects Are New Again

I recently began to reacquaint myself with an old writing project of mine.  At first, I was scared to see how things were going to work out.  I didn't know if I'd be able to hear my characters in my head anymore.  I didn't know if I would be able to feel what they felt or see what they saw.

I worried that I wouldn't hear their voices talking to me anymore.  It's essential that I hear them.  I need this to be able to continue to work.

<If you didn't read my last post about this, go here. >

Then, my main character reminded me of just how funny he could be.  Truth is, he's a pain in the arse, but he is funny for the most part.  He's my way of getting my frustrations and aggression out of my system without outwardly hurting anyone in my real life.  He's my evil twin, so to speak.  I have a lot of love for this character and the further into the story I get, the more I realize how very much I have missed him.

I am thoroughly enjoying getting reacquainted with him and the others in his story.

He isn't the only one I think about, but he is my focus at the moment.

Alas, I have five or six other projects that are knocking on my window.  They all want attention, but I know I lack enough focus right now to work on them all.  I desperately want to finish this one work, so that I can say that I actually completed something.  I crave that sense of accomplishment.

Back to what I was saying...

I've missed him.  I find myself reading through his pages and laughing--or thwap him on the back of the head if the need presents itself.  It's as if I wasn't the one that wrote the story.  I know I did, because it's my print, but I'm experiencing it all over again as if it were the first time.  I know it's not the first time, because I can hear him saying how funny that moment was, or regretting a decision that was made.  I can hear the character telling me how different he'd wished certain events had transpired, and I find myself aching for him.

I know, I know...You're back to thinking , "Whoa!  She's looney!"  I wouldn't blame you.  I actual think I am sometimes, but like I said in my previous post, you kind of have to be.  If you think that I am completely off my rocker, let me leave you with this.  Are you familiar with Anne Rice?  The creator of Lestat from "Interview with a Vampire"?  She has said in interviews that Lestat would often converse with her while she was writing.  She a NY Times Best Selling Author.

Not so crazy anymore, am I?

Sorry to keep this so short, but I have to get back to my little guy.

He just told me not to call him that..."little," I mean.  He's so touchy!