Menu Close

Tag: life

Subplots and Storylines

Tracey Dyck 15 Comments

Time has a way of marching along at a rather quick pace. I feel as if I’ve blinked and May has whirled by in a blur of color. It’s been an eventful month! If life were a story, this particular chapter would be chock full of new subplots. Shall I unspool them all for you? Yes. I shall.

[br]

I’ve started working at a new job. Last month I had some training shifts, and the beginning of May brought with it a sizable chunk of online learning. In the meantime, I’ve been asking hundreds of questions as I learn the ropes and get settled into a new schedule. This job was a real answer to prayer, so I’m glad to adjust to a new season of life!

[br]

Another notable happening was two dear friends’ graduations from two different Bible/leadership colleges. So exciting to celebrate their accomplishments!

[br]

The first couple weeks of May were grey and rainy. Perfect weather for curling up with a book, either one to read or one to write. I’m not a slow reader, nor am I the devour-ten-books-a-week sort of girl. But I am pleased with the six novels in which I’ve spent time this month.
[br]
[br]
Outlaw—really different from the usual Dekker book, but still with his distinct hue. Not for the faint of heart!
[br]
Divergent—a reread, and a good one at that. It was interesting to remember how the book differed from the movie.
[br]
The next three books are the result of a little something I did with my siblings. The four of us visited the library and picked out a book for each of our sibs to read. So we all ended up with three new books to try. It gets us out of our usual reading zone, and also gives us some common reads to discuss afterwards. 11 Birthdays was chosen by my youngest sister, and was an adorable tale of two friends stuck reliving their eleventh birthday over and over and over again. The Storybook of Legends was picked by my middle sister, and basically smashed a bunch of fairy-tale characters into a story about choice versus fate. The False Prince was selected by my brother, and lulled me into the happy trance of a good fantasy before jolting me awake with a great plot twist. I was a wee bit jealous of the author’s idea, to tell you the truth.
[br]
Right now I’m in the last third of Insurgent! And, um, it’s kind of . . . sad . . . and heavy . . . but really intense, so I’m not complaining. Apparently I like getting my literary heart ripped out.
[br]
Oh! Speaking of which, in May I have also had my heart ripped out by some awesome movies.
[br]
The Battle of the Five Armies: all I have to say is OUCH. Well, that and OHMYGOODNESSITWASAMAZING. Intense battles, fabulous character development, and great set-up for LotR. An epic conclusion to the Hobbit trilogy!
[br]
Guardians of the Galaxy . . . What. In. The. World. Okay, it was quite hilarious, and I loved how it didn’t take itself seriously at all. (And guys—Lee Pace was in there! I didn’t know until I heard him speak, because he looks nothing like the Thranduil I’m used to.) My main complaint would be the language. But you have no idea how much I loved this:
[br]
[br]
And perhaps my favorite flick of the month (okay, it’s tied with TBotFA) was Age of Ultron. I’ve heard people say it wasn’t as good as the first Avengers film, but I have no idea what they’re talking about. This was EPIC. And it ripped my heart out too. See, I’m just a bleeding puddle of feels this month. (Ew. That was graphic. My apologies.)
[br]
Anyway, I did say it was the perfect rainy weather for writing books as well as reading them, did I not? So because my book 1 is sitting on the backburner for now, I decided to tackle book 2. I wrote the first draft three years ago at the ripe old age of sixteen and declared it marvellous, full of tight writing and great characters. I recently reread it and . . . well, yes, I did marvel at it, but only in the sense of “Ahahaha, you say I wrote this monstrosity? Did I really?” The writing was . . . er, yes, we could call it tight. We could also call it bland and lackluster and far too fast. The characters displayed great amounts of inconsistency, passivity, and stupidity—so of course sixteen-year-old-me was partially right in labeling them ‘great.’ And let’s please ignore the plot’s gaping, dragon-sized holes. Yes. We won’t comment on that.
[br]
Needless to say, I was (and am) faced with a good deal of work. All of which I’m very excited about, don’t get me wrong! I can’t wait to plow into this project, kick it all into pieces, and put them back together again in a much better way.

[br]

A peek at my brilliance. 😉
So during this month of May, I have been masterminding. What’s that, you wonder? Well, it stands to reason that if I, the author of this obstinate fantasy series, am the mastermind behind the story, then the act of worldbuilding and hatching brilliant plots could be called ‘masterminding.’ We can definitely change a noun to a verb, right? (Aaaand I just checked. Apparently I’m not as original as I thought: masterminding is already a word. Phooey.)
[br]
Anyway, this masterminding is more than plotting. It goes beyond worldbuilding. It’s not even the same thing as brainstorming, although all three of those things play significant parts. For me, it was pulling my scattered notes, thoughts, and ideas together and deciding, once and for all, exactly how the big story elements work. I took a look at the people, worlds, and objects that are important in these books, and documented how/where/when/why they do what they do. It was great fun! My file isn’t entirely complete, but it’s a good launch pad for what I have in mind.
[br]
[br]
Oh, and did I mention that I decided on almost three thousand years’ worth of history in another world? Just the big events, but still, it left me feeling quite powerful in an author-ish sort of way.
[br]
While I found the drizzly weather lovely for bookish pursuits, one of the resident robins felt that the wet conditions were perfect for nest-building. This would not normally be a notable thing, except for the small detail of where he decided to construct it: on top of an outdoor light.
[br]
(I apologize for the poor zoom quality.
Birds don’t like you getting too close.)

[br]

I suppose he was tired of living in trees like a sensible bird, and wanted a better view of the goings-on around him. Not the tidiest nest-maker, either, is he? Sadly, we did not allow that pile of seaweed slop to stay. (At least I thought it resembled seaweed.) But lucky for the robin, there are plenty of spruces in which to nest instead. Thankfully the rain stopped and the sun returned in time for garden planting, walk taking, and sun tanning.

[br]

And with the big series elements in place, I took a deep breath and plunged into outlining book 2. Version One (or Version Horrendous; you choose) is itty bitty. 68,000 words, eighteen chapters. The new version is looking to be twenty-eight chapters or more. I am positively bursting with excitement! Since I’ve grown so much as a writer in the last few years, this will be an entirely different book once I’m through with it.

[br]

And that, fellow questers, is what my May looked like! The life of an employee has begun, a new book is underway, some friends are entering new phases of life, and several literary/film adventures wriggled their way into the cracks in my busy schedule. How was your month of May? Anything new happening, or perhaps something old-yet-significant?

[br]

(By the way, if you’re still reading this longwinded thing, my hat’s off to you.)
[br]
And just a quick heads-up—I have a special announcement coming early next week. Stay tuned!
[br]
Oh, and one other thing. I’ve been wanting to do these summary-of-the-month posts because they’re excellent places to throw in all the random bits of life that don’t necessarily merit their own individual articles. But I’m not sure about the title, Subplots and Storylines. What say you? Does it fit? Too cheesy? Other ideas I had were Wanderings or Far-Flung Paths or Motley Tales. Any suggestions? Nothing’s too out of the box around here.
[br]
Well, here’s to an adventuresome June! Wherever the road may take you, I hope you find courage to step around the bend and strength to lift your sword.
Keep Reading

What Are You Afraid Of?

Tracey Dyck 10 Comments
What are you afraid of?

[br]

I don’t mean heights or small spaces or spiders or the dark or creepy clowns or waking up to find the world is purple and your dog is actually a sentient alien spying on you.

[br]

What are you truly afraid of? What are your deepest fears? Maybe you don’t even realize it, but you’re terrified of rejection, of not being loved. Maybe you’re scared of following the same sad patterns as your father or mother. Perhaps the thought of failure chills you to the bone. Or you might be scared of never having enough, never being enough.

[br]

We all have fears like that. I do.
[br]
Many of us can relate to a fear of failure. Do you ever find that the more you struggle with that fear, the more you fail? And the more you fail, the more your mistakes reinforce those fears? You look to your next endeavor, and a voice inside whispers, “You really think you’ll make it? Look what happened last time. Set your goals a little lower. That way you won’t be so disappointed when you fall short—again.”

[br]

Or say you’re afraid of loneliness, of having no friends. That fear consumes you until you wonder if maybe you’re unlovable—who would want to be with someone like you? And the more you think it, the more you see it’s true. You have no real friends. You were right all along. And the fear-monster tightens its grip.

[br]

In anything, really—not just fears—don’t you find that the more you think something, the more you see it? And the more you see it, the more it reinforces those thoughts? And as those thoughts grow stronger, you see even more evidence of them in your life? It’s an endless cycle, but it doesn’t have to be a bad one.

[br]

Because faith works indiscriminately in the positive and the negative.

[br]

We can all agree that Job had it pretty rough, yes? His livestock and servants, his material wealth—gone, poof. His children—dead under the rubble of a destroyed house. He didn’t have anything left.
[br]
Now, I know that Satan shuffled up to God and obtained his permission to test Job (and I have far more questions about that than I have answers), but it seems that Job himself played a part in bringing about his own downfall.

[br]

“What I always feared has happened to me,” he said. “What I dreaded has come true.” (Job 3:25, NLT) What was he afraid of? The first chapter of Job tells us he daily made sacrifices to atone for his children, thinking that perhaps they’d sinned and cursed God in their hearts.

[br]

He was afraid of punishment. He was afraid of destruction.

[br]

And that is exactly what swept through his life.

[br]

What we believe—really, truly, deep down believe—we attract into our lives. A person who thinks of himself as a loser attracts a loser kind of life. He finds himself gravitating toward other losers, gets a second-rate job, and sees everything through a defeated mindset. A person who thinks of himself as a winner attracts an amazing life. He starts spending time with great people who are growing and successful and encouraging. He finds doors opening, and those that don’t open, he kicks down because he knows he can. He sees life through the eyes of a winner.

[br]

The more the loser looks around at his lackluster world, and the more he listens to his crab-bucket-mentality friends, the more he sees that, “Yep, this is just how life is. This is who I am, and I shouldn’t expect anything better.” The more he thinks that, the more his world will conform to be that.

[br]

The more the winner looks around at his marvelous world, and the more his positive crowd rubs off on him, the more he sees opportunity hidden in the obstacles. He realizes that life is beautiful, that he can, and that he’s meant for great things. The more those thoughts cement themselves in his heart, the more his world will conform to back them up.

[br]

Both people may have the exact same opportunity placed before them, but the former person will look at it and think, “Oh, that’s too much. I could never do that/be that/deal with that stress. I’m just not the person for that.” And he rejects the opportunity. The latter individual will nod and say, “Wow—that’s so much more than what I’m used to, but I can do it. I can grow and develop and go to the next level in life.” He’ll walk through that door and thrive.

[br]

“For as he thinks in his heart, so is he.” (Proverbs 23:7a, NKJV)

[br]
What are you afraid of? What do you think of yourself? (Those two questions are more closely related than you might think.) Those fears need to be dealt with, or else they hold the potential to kill you. Maybe not physically, but fear can draw into your life the very things you’re afraid of. Those things will destroy relationships, your thought life, and anything else they touch. Go to your Creator, lay those crippling chains at His feet, and discover His perfect love. It casts out all fear.
[br]
Afraid of rejection? God promises He’ll never leave you or forsake you. Afraid of repeating the mistakes of your parents? God says you are a new creation—the old has passed away and the new has come. Afraid of failing? God declares that you’re spotless before Him, and it has nothing to do with your successes or failures.

[br]

This love, this perfect, radiant, relentless love, drives out fear.

[br]

Knowing how loved you are gives rise to hope.

[br]

Hope of good things to come gives rise to faith.

[br]

And faith, the full confidence that what you hope for is here, now, whether or not you see it just yet . . . will draw in the physical evidence of that faith like iron to a magnet.

[br]

Fear and faith—both ask you to believe in what you cannot see.

[br]

Which will you listen to?

Keep Reading

Things I Learned as a Child – Part 2

Tracey Dyck 12 Comments
Apparently, I’ve learned so much as a child that I have enough for two posts. You can see part 1 here. Now on to part 2!
[br]

~*~

[br]

Beginner readers are boring—Anne of Green Gables, now that’s more like it. (Yes, I did read it in first grade. I will confess, however, that many of the words were way over my head.)

[br]

Flying a kite near tall trees isn’t smart.

[br]

A bicycle makes a good substitute horse when a real one can’t be found. A sister with skipping rope reins is also acceptable.

[br]

No matter how high you swing, you just can’t swing over the top bar.

[br]

Food tastes better at a picnic.
[br]

Dads can make such a convincing deer-in-distress call (or was it buffalo…?) that the lion at the zoo will wander closer to the fence, thereby giving you a better look at it.

[br]

The flamingos at the zoo don’t have their own music—that was someone’s cell phone ringing.

[br]

Pink rubber boots worn inside the house are definitely the height of fashion.

[br]

Vacuum cleaners are not kind to toes. (I’m cheating a little bit again, since I discovered this fact as a teenager. Lots of ouch.)

[br]

There are no sharks swimming in the darkness of your bedroom, so there’s no need to race into bed quite so anxiously.

[br]

Helping your siblings open their Christmas presents only makes you look bossy on the home videos.

[br]

Getting a dragonfly caught in your hair is frightening.

[br]

Figuring out Roman numerals is an impressive feat.
[br]
When your little sister follows you
around, it means she admires you, not that she wants to take over your turf. Be kind and understanding.
[br]
Wearing your pajamas to the Canada Day fireworks is definitely a treat.
[br]
Brothers are great spider-exterminators.

[br]

When playing “house” outdoors, soup made out of water, leaves, grass, gravel, and flower petals can almost look appetizing. Sort of.

[br]

A popsicle falling to the ground is a tragedy of epic proportions.

[br]

Birds are hard to sneak up on and won’t be petted.

[br]

The night of Christmas Eve is the longest of the year.

[br]

When you say sorry, mean it.

[br]

Singing “Jesus Loves Me” at the top of your lungs, while wearing a pink garbage bin over your head, in the middle of a store—well, what could be more fun? (I have no memory of this, just so you know, but my parents certainly do.)

[br]

Your big stuffed dog named Casey most certainly does get lonely when you leave her for an entire day of school. She must lie on the living room couch so that she can be around people until you return home.

[br]

Just because Mom writes in her recipe book doesn’t mean you can.

[br]

Just because Mom writes in her Bible doesn’t mean you can do that, either.

[br]

Stuffed toys are good at keeping secrets.

[br]

Dads make excellent princes (when you’re Cinderella), chiefs (when you’re a tribal warrior), kings (when you’re the evil courtier), hunters (when you’re the forest creature), and narrators (when you’re acting out a fairy tale).

[br]

It follows that a brother makes an exceptionally ugly stepsister, fellow warrior, court jester, or companion forest animal.

[br]

Sisters make great stepsisters, fellow warriors, princesses, and scared rabbits.

[br]

And moms are fabulous at doing the supper dishes so you have time to play before bed.

[br]

~*~

[br]

KIDS HAVE ALL THE FUN. KEEP A BIT OF YOUR CHILDHOOD WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES.

Little Miss Me, the gardener
Keep Reading

Things I Learned As a Child – Part 1

Tracey Dyck 14 Comments

I was laughing with my family the other day about some of the silly things I did as a kid. This, of course, is an extensive topic. Later on, as I was thinking over it, I realized that many of my miniature disasters and tiny discoveries have imparted nuggets of wisdom. Perhaps you’ll find reason to chuckle along with me over the wonderful, silly, ridiculous, profound things a little girl’s experiences can lead her to conclude.

~*~

When preparing to blow a fluffy dandelion, don’t inhale with the dandelion close to your mouth.

Slapping the gym teacher is a mean thing to do.
[br]
Mysteries should be written backwards; it helps to know the end before you write the beginning.
[br]
Teenagers are very loud and very weird (but can be successfully ignored if one has a book to disappear into).
[br]
Dads are the scariest—and funnest—people with whom to play hide and seek in the dark.
[br]
Knowing to start from zero, not one, when counting laps gives you an entire lap in which to be embarrassed as you run alone and your classmates all sit down. (But then you get the satisfaction of them having to run one more lap while you are done.)
[br]
Babysitters just don’t do it like Mom does.
[br]
Standing up on your bike pedals to try to peer over a tall fence as you ride by results in scraped knees.
[br]
So does biking too fast down a hill with gravel at the bottom.
[br]
So does trying to ride back onto a raised sidewalk, after so courteously steering off to avoid pedestrians. Oh yes, and torn shorts may also be a by-product of such a stunt. (I cheated—this I learned as a teenager. But we teenagers do, on occasion, behave like children, so it still counts.)
[br]
Fire drills are scary.
[br]
Stepping on certain school hallway tiles and avoiding others does not prevent the next fire drill from occurring.
[br]
Books are picture windows into countless worlds.
[br]
[br]
Fruit juice, ketchup, water from the pickle jar, maple syrup, and other miscellaneous liquids combined do not a tasty beverage make.
[br]
Sixth graders are big kids.
[br]
The minute you enter first grade, kindergartners look tiny.
[br]
My house does not have any secret passages. (Trust me, I looked.)
[br]
The only mysteries to be had are ones like “The Mystery of the Missing Sock,” never “The Mystery of the Haunted Stairwell,” or “The Case of the Ancient Treasure Chest.”
[br]
Mysteries of missing socks are not worth being paid two dollars to solve. They’re not even worth solving at all.
[br]
Secret clubs formed with friends have a tendency to last no more than about two weeks.
[br]
Crying does not make the history test go away.
[br]
There is more than one flat-nosed bus in the world. (This deserves an explanation: My first day riding the bus to kindergarten, my dad told me to remember the number printed on the side so that I’d get on the right bus after school. In a panic, I told him I couldn’t remember that number all day. He said, “Okay, then just remember to get on the bus with a flat nose.” Little did we know the school had two flat-nosed buses. And of course I boarded the wrong one. Two buses were late delivering their children that day.)
[br]
Swapping names and snowsuits with your friend during recess does not keep people from recognizing who you really are.
[br]
Brothers don’t appreciate your hairdressing skills.
[br]
Standing in the playground and waiting for someone to talk to you is a lousy way to make friends.
[br]
Boys that chew pencils, or chase you around with boogers, or flick paint onto the back of your shirt . . . They’re just plain annoying.
[br]
That little ditch that runs between two houses on your street is not a secret path. It’s someone’s property.
[br]
Cycling barefoot in the rain is fun.
[br]
Turning ten is a little bit sad because you’re leaving single digits behind forever.
[br]
Every birthday party must have a theme, even if it’s as lame as “polka-dots and stripes.”
[br]
It is possible to have more than one best friend.
[br]
Best friends don’t have to live next door.
[br]
Flip-flops are terrible running shoes.
[br]
Riding the little red wagon down the gopher-hole-riddled hill—and letting your cousin steer—is maybe not the best idea.
[br]
Keep Reading