Did you know there are no historical facts to link Saint Valentine to romantic love, especially on February 14th? If one is to step down the path backwards to find where this love holiday originated one would find that the three Saint Valentines that are linked to the February 14th date were martyrs and had no significant behavior that would also link them to the hearts, flowers and cupids we see today.
There have been several fantastic legends which may have started all this hullabaloo. One such is where a Valentine (and it's not sure which one) defied the Roman emperor and performed marriage ceremonies even though it had been decreed in the law that young men could not be married because they were needed on the battlefield. Then there is a legend that one of the Valentines, on the night before his execution, wrote a love letter to a young girl. None of these legends have any basis in historical facts. They are pure works of fiction. And the best known link to the present day Valentine Day is another work of fiction. Chaucer's 14th century work of fiction titled, Parlement of Foules, is a poem written in honor of the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II of England and Anne of Bohemia where the great poet wrote:
For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.
Translated to modern English this means: "For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate."
Oddly enough the belief among historians is that the Saint Valentine's Day Chaucer referred to was actually on May 2nd, the saint's day of another bishop named Valentine orinigally of Genoa.
Fiction, fiction, how powerful is fiction. As seen here in this highly celebrated holiday, writing fiction can create new worlds. It can change the world (just listen to every politician). And it can destroy old worlds (as did Hitler in his fiction about saving the Aryan race).
Why am I writing about fiction? Because I love fiction. I've been creating fiction my entire life. From the imaginary friend my mother said I used to talk to out on the swing in the backyard, to the pretend family I used to imagine I belonged to, complete with a multimillionaire father and fifteen brothers and sisters, to my more recent dabbles with creating the great American novel, my life has been steeped with fiction. So today I not only celebrate a day of love, filled with cupids, hearts, candy, flowers and romantic dinners but also as one of the birthdates of fiction.
Happy Saint Valentine's Day to you all!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
WITH A JET PACK STRAPPED TO MY BACK
Even a week after the SCBWI winter conference I'm still psyched about the inspirations I received. As if I have a jet pack strapped to my back, I have not stopped writing. Though I've heard or read almost every idea that was spoken last week many times before, the morsels of information that have sunk into my brain have catapulted me to a new level of writing. So much so that I pulled Kiva and the Stone Nation back off the shelf and revamped her first few chapters. I want to give this new round of literary agents the very best product I have to offer. I even rejoined the SCBWI critique group in Naples to receive timely feedback on my work. Yesterday I provided them with the revised first chapter of Kiva and they loved it.
I believe I have some strong ammunition to lob at the publishing world and in the next few days I will e-mail 5 more agents on my list whom I believe might fall in love with Kiva. Keep your fingers crossed.
On another note, I just returned from a wonderful stroll along the beach at low tide. I realized this morning that I plan my entire day of writing around low tides, sunsets and swim schedules. Can you tell I live in Florida?
So here's the revised Chapter 1 of Kiva and the Stone Nation. Hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER 1
If I had met Scout the year before, when forests still harbored a red caped girl and a devious wolf. In the time when munchkins and elves were still heroes and helpers, not childhood fantasies, I would have foreseen what was about to happen. For with Scout's wisdom I could have leapt beyond the world of the definite, the absolute, and the hard and fast. I could have moved into that place between the real and the fantastic. That place where premonitions are possible. And not just possible, but everyday occurrences.
But I had not yet met Scout. At least not that I remembered. And until that time when her presence was made known to me, l was lost. Lost in a fog of unknowing. A dark cloud of uncertainty. For a great shadow had surrounded my spirit and had muddled every thought in my brain. Blinding me to the mysterious message delivered to me that first day.
It was the day I graduated from elementary school. A day hailed as a rite of passage into a more adult world. A more logical world. And I was proud to be standing on that cliff of sensibility, for practicality flowed through my veins. At least from my father's side anyway. So how could I have grasped what was about to happen. It was illogical.
But logical or not, it occurred. Started right there on the playground. Right in the middle of the big city. Right in front of my teacher, who could not have predicted it either. Nor my classmates. But Hotta could have foreseen it. And most likely did. I would not be surprised if she dreamed the whole incident the night before it happened. With vivid colors, symbolism and metaphors dancing in her slumbering head. And she would have felt how humiliated I was, splayed against the dirt in front of my entire class, my elbows and knees skinned and bleeding. Hotta would have known my horror and embarrassment. Like she did with the other incident. The one at the beginning of the school year. When the merciless teasing had begun and the fanciful beliefs had vanished.
My lungs grasped at the tiny sliver of breath keeping me from passing out. As gravel slid down the back of my throat my teeth crunched on bits of stone and grit. I raised my body off the ground. My kneecaps throbbed. At least the other incident had not physically hurt.
A low growl-like voice whispered, "Are you okay, Kiva?"
I fought to focus on the speaker but could not uncross my eyes. The view in front of me was blocked by something. Several somethings. Long and skinny. And furry?
"Don't move!" cried my teacher off in the distance. Classmates backed away. I heeded the terror in her voice while I fought to remember what had brought me to this point.
I was on the swings. And Jennifer was discussing her upcoming plans for the summer. "I'll have way more fun at my camp than yours," she said. Her blue eyes blazed in the morning sunlight and I swallowed a laugh. Her mother was forcing her to choose church camp over drama camp and laughing at her frustration could prove dangerous. Sulking, she propelled herself off the swing without stopping. Callie followed in an obedient puppy manner, her long black hair swishing against her waist like a tail. I jumped to catch up, at which point my memory clouded.
That is until a screeching noise, like a terrified baby, penetrated my fog. The noise producer, a long snout attached to the wiry-furred legs, leaned into my hair and sniffed. A foul stench wrinkled my nose. Unable to picture more than the front portion of the creature looming over me, I suspected it was a canine escape artist from a nearby backyard.
"See you soon," I heard and the scruffy legs bolted away. As I lifted my head I caught a glimpse of its sloppy red tongue lopping from the side of a devil-may-care grin.
Mrs. Baker sprang forward, grabbed my arm and in one fell swoop, flung me towards the side door. As we passed a petrified third grader, he stammered, "What was that thing?"
Liquid, thick and gooey, rolled down my cheek and onto my lips. I tasted the sweet stickiness of my blood.
"Oh dear! Let's get you to the nurse's office," cried the teacher. Picking up her frantic pace she drug me through the halls. As we rounded the corner by the Principal's office, a small group of fifth grade girls snickered. Jennifer, in the center, pointed in our direction.
Principal Bartholomew bolted from his office. "Is this the student attacked by the coyote?" The snickering turned to laughter. Their echoes bounced against the ceramic tile walls like a thunderstorm in a canyon.
"Forest freak!" cried Jennifer. The volume intensified.
"That's enough," screamed the principal. The students howled. I braced myself. Waiting for the familiar chant. Like the last time.
"Woo, Woo, Woo," someone had cried the first day of school as I was reading my report about my summer vacation at my grandparents' ranch in southern Colorado. They had mocked me as I explained how my grandmother listened to messages from the animals who often magically appeared. “She calls them totems. For her tribe considers them messages from Great Spirit.”
Someone laughed and said, “Like a totem pole?”
I ignored the outburst and continued. My voice warbled as I described my grandfather teaching me to search for animal tracks. "He can identify them by their scat."
Then I heard, “Ooh yuck, that's poop.” The laughter grew.
“Hey you're a regular Daniel Boone,” said Jason, the cutest boy in school. I wanted to die.
"More like a wood fairy,” cried another voice.
“No she's a freak," cried Jennifer. "A forest freak.”
The students roared. The phrase flew through the air, hurled at me from every corner of the room. "Forest freak, forest freak, Kiva is a forest freak." Everything after that became a blur. That is until the teacher found me later, hiding in the bathroom stall.
That was where the horrible nickname began and it haunted me from that moment forward. I used to wonder if it was tattooed on my forehead in an invisible ink only Jennifer could read, for I never knew when her shrill voice would ring through the halls crying, "Hey forest freak."
To make matters worse, that was about the same time Callie decided Jennifer was her best friend, even though we had been best friends since we were babies.
********
As the nurse finished cleaning my wounds the frosted glass door opened. Jennifer entered, followed by Callie who said, “My mom's on the phone and wants to know if you're coming with us to the mall this afternoon? Remember I’m buying a new bathing suit for Jennifer's pool party.”
“I can't. My parents and I are heading down to visit my grandparents this weekend.”
“Going to talk to the animals again this summer?” Jennifer laughed.
I quickly answered, “No, just visiting for the weekend. I would die if I had to stay there again the whole summer."
A blond boy's head appeared around the door. "Boy that was freaky. Are you okay, Kiva?" asked Jason.
"Yeah, the freak's just got a few scratches," said Jennifer. "But I'm sure she'll be as good as new in a day or two." The boy smiled.
"In time for your party I'm sure," I said.
"Whatever," said Jennifer. Turning she motioned for the other two to follow. Jason shrugged and waved and as the door closed Callie's voice trailed off behind them. "See you when you get back, Kiva."
I would love your feedback on the above excerpt and I hope everyone has a fabulous week!
Books I'm reading: THE GRAVEYARD BOOK by Neil Gaiman (love this book!)
Food I'm eating: Ezekiel cereal with soy milk, whole grain toast with peanut butter and banana
Spiritual process: The Master Plan to Manifesting Your Dreams
Affirmation: "I can do anything, be anyone, have anything because I am a trust fund baby of the Universe." & "I meet everyone with love."
Visualization: Signing one of my children's books that is worn and dogged eared because the child has read it so many times.
I believe I have some strong ammunition to lob at the publishing world and in the next few days I will e-mail 5 more agents on my list whom I believe might fall in love with Kiva. Keep your fingers crossed.
On another note, I just returned from a wonderful stroll along the beach at low tide. I realized this morning that I plan my entire day of writing around low tides, sunsets and swim schedules. Can you tell I live in Florida?
So here's the revised Chapter 1 of Kiva and the Stone Nation. Hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER 1
If I had met Scout the year before, when forests still harbored a red caped girl and a devious wolf. In the time when munchkins and elves were still heroes and helpers, not childhood fantasies, I would have foreseen what was about to happen. For with Scout's wisdom I could have leapt beyond the world of the definite, the absolute, and the hard and fast. I could have moved into that place between the real and the fantastic. That place where premonitions are possible. And not just possible, but everyday occurrences.
But I had not yet met Scout. At least not that I remembered. And until that time when her presence was made known to me, l was lost. Lost in a fog of unknowing. A dark cloud of uncertainty. For a great shadow had surrounded my spirit and had muddled every thought in my brain. Blinding me to the mysterious message delivered to me that first day.
It was the day I graduated from elementary school. A day hailed as a rite of passage into a more adult world. A more logical world. And I was proud to be standing on that cliff of sensibility, for practicality flowed through my veins. At least from my father's side anyway. So how could I have grasped what was about to happen. It was illogical.
But logical or not, it occurred. Started right there on the playground. Right in the middle of the big city. Right in front of my teacher, who could not have predicted it either. Nor my classmates. But Hotta could have foreseen it. And most likely did. I would not be surprised if she dreamed the whole incident the night before it happened. With vivid colors, symbolism and metaphors dancing in her slumbering head. And she would have felt how humiliated I was, splayed against the dirt in front of my entire class, my elbows and knees skinned and bleeding. Hotta would have known my horror and embarrassment. Like she did with the other incident. The one at the beginning of the school year. When the merciless teasing had begun and the fanciful beliefs had vanished.
My lungs grasped at the tiny sliver of breath keeping me from passing out. As gravel slid down the back of my throat my teeth crunched on bits of stone and grit. I raised my body off the ground. My kneecaps throbbed. At least the other incident had not physically hurt.
A low growl-like voice whispered, "Are you okay, Kiva?"
I fought to focus on the speaker but could not uncross my eyes. The view in front of me was blocked by something. Several somethings. Long and skinny. And furry?
"Don't move!" cried my teacher off in the distance. Classmates backed away. I heeded the terror in her voice while I fought to remember what had brought me to this point.
I was on the swings. And Jennifer was discussing her upcoming plans for the summer. "I'll have way more fun at my camp than yours," she said. Her blue eyes blazed in the morning sunlight and I swallowed a laugh. Her mother was forcing her to choose church camp over drama camp and laughing at her frustration could prove dangerous. Sulking, she propelled herself off the swing without stopping. Callie followed in an obedient puppy manner, her long black hair swishing against her waist like a tail. I jumped to catch up, at which point my memory clouded.
That is until a screeching noise, like a terrified baby, penetrated my fog. The noise producer, a long snout attached to the wiry-furred legs, leaned into my hair and sniffed. A foul stench wrinkled my nose. Unable to picture more than the front portion of the creature looming over me, I suspected it was a canine escape artist from a nearby backyard.
"See you soon," I heard and the scruffy legs bolted away. As I lifted my head I caught a glimpse of its sloppy red tongue lopping from the side of a devil-may-care grin.
Mrs. Baker sprang forward, grabbed my arm and in one fell swoop, flung me towards the side door. As we passed a petrified third grader, he stammered, "What was that thing?"
Liquid, thick and gooey, rolled down my cheek and onto my lips. I tasted the sweet stickiness of my blood.
"Oh dear! Let's get you to the nurse's office," cried the teacher. Picking up her frantic pace she drug me through the halls. As we rounded the corner by the Principal's office, a small group of fifth grade girls snickered. Jennifer, in the center, pointed in our direction.
Principal Bartholomew bolted from his office. "Is this the student attacked by the coyote?" The snickering turned to laughter. Their echoes bounced against the ceramic tile walls like a thunderstorm in a canyon.
"Forest freak!" cried Jennifer. The volume intensified.
"That's enough," screamed the principal. The students howled. I braced myself. Waiting for the familiar chant. Like the last time.
"Woo, Woo, Woo," someone had cried the first day of school as I was reading my report about my summer vacation at my grandparents' ranch in southern Colorado. They had mocked me as I explained how my grandmother listened to messages from the animals who often magically appeared. “She calls them totems. For her tribe considers them messages from Great Spirit.”
Someone laughed and said, “Like a totem pole?”
I ignored the outburst and continued. My voice warbled as I described my grandfather teaching me to search for animal tracks. "He can identify them by their scat."
Then I heard, “Ooh yuck, that's poop.” The laughter grew.
“Hey you're a regular Daniel Boone,” said Jason, the cutest boy in school. I wanted to die.
"More like a wood fairy,” cried another voice.
“No she's a freak," cried Jennifer. "A forest freak.”
The students roared. The phrase flew through the air, hurled at me from every corner of the room. "Forest freak, forest freak, Kiva is a forest freak." Everything after that became a blur. That is until the teacher found me later, hiding in the bathroom stall.
That was where the horrible nickname began and it haunted me from that moment forward. I used to wonder if it was tattooed on my forehead in an invisible ink only Jennifer could read, for I never knew when her shrill voice would ring through the halls crying, "Hey forest freak."
To make matters worse, that was about the same time Callie decided Jennifer was her best friend, even though we had been best friends since we were babies.
********
As the nurse finished cleaning my wounds the frosted glass door opened. Jennifer entered, followed by Callie who said, “My mom's on the phone and wants to know if you're coming with us to the mall this afternoon? Remember I’m buying a new bathing suit for Jennifer's pool party.”
“I can't. My parents and I are heading down to visit my grandparents this weekend.”
“Going to talk to the animals again this summer?” Jennifer laughed.
I quickly answered, “No, just visiting for the weekend. I would die if I had to stay there again the whole summer."
A blond boy's head appeared around the door. "Boy that was freaky. Are you okay, Kiva?" asked Jason.
"Yeah, the freak's just got a few scratches," said Jennifer. "But I'm sure she'll be as good as new in a day or two." The boy smiled.
"In time for your party I'm sure," I said.
"Whatever," said Jennifer. Turning she motioned for the other two to follow. Jason shrugged and waved and as the door closed Callie's voice trailed off behind them. "See you when you get back, Kiva."
I would love your feedback on the above excerpt and I hope everyone has a fabulous week!
Books I'm reading: THE GRAVEYARD BOOK by Neil Gaiman (love this book!)
Food I'm eating: Ezekiel cereal with soy milk, whole grain toast with peanut butter and banana
Spiritual process: The Master Plan to Manifesting Your Dreams
Affirmation: "I can do anything, be anyone, have anything because I am a trust fund baby of the Universe." & "I meet everyone with love."
Visualization: Signing one of my children's books that is worn and dogged eared because the child has read it so many times.
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