Jena > Recent Status Updates

Whaaaaat? This is SUCH an unfinished book (and I'm not talking about the cliffhanger ending that obviously sets up a sequel). The character arcs aren't developed (dare I say NO growth?), plots are left dangling, etc. The first book felt complete, even if we didn't know what the ending meant. This book feels rushed.

Interesting interpretation of Jane Eyre, but I found the ending disappointing.

"And Luna knew this and understood it, but now she felt that there was another magnetic field and another compass that her grandmother had never told her about. Luna's heart was pulled to her grandmother's heart. Was love a Compass?"

Great first line! "Somewhere in Brooklyn, between hearts that thump, double Dutch, and hopscotch and salty mouths that slurp sweet ice, a little boy dreams of being a famous ARTIST."

Well, I finished the first story (from the Dresden Files)) which was the whole reason I got it. Molly and Carlos. Dream pairing in a great setup (in Alaska nonetheless!). I was really enjoying it until the end. Super dark. :( I'm not sure I want to read the other stories.

I think the fiercest question of all is this one: what would you do even if you knew that you might very well fail? What do you love doing so much that the words failure and success essentially become irrelevant? What do you love even more than you love your own ego? How fierce is your trust in that love?

Re: Clive James: He realized that "failure has a function. It asks you whether you really want to go on making things."

Making art does sometimes feel like you're holding a séance, or like you're calling out in the night for a wild animal on the prowl. What you're doing seems impossible and even silly, but then you hear the thunder of hooves, and some beautiful beast comes rushing into the glade, searching for you just as urgently as you have been searching for it.

Perfection stops people from completing their work, yes – but even worse, it often stops people from beginning their work.… The most evil trick about perfectionism, though, is that it disguises itself as a virtue.

People don't do this kind of thing because they have all kinds of extra time and energy for it; they do this kind of thing because their creativity matters to them enough that they are willing to make all kinds of extra sacrifices for it.

If you want to be a professional artist, but you aren't willing to see your work rejected hundreds, if not thousands, of times, then you're done before you start.

How you manage yourself between those bright moments, when things aren't going so great, is a measure of how devoted you are to your vocation… Holding yourself together through all the phases of creation is where the real work lies.

But I remember thinking that learning how to endure your disappointment and frustration IS part of the job of a creative person.

Your own reasons to create are reason enough. ... Do whatever brings you to life, then. Follow your own fascinations, obsessions, and compulsions. Trust them. Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart.

"But I wish someone had been able to convince [Harper] Lee to keep writing for the entirety of her life... it would've been a gift to her... to have been able to remain a writer, and to enjoy the pleasures and satisfaction of that work for herself (because in the end, creativity is a gift to the creator, not just a gift to the audience)."

And you have treasures hidden within you--extraordinary treasures--and so do I, and so does everyone around us. And bringing those treasures to light takes work and faith and focus and courage and hours of devotion, and the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time anymore to think so small.

~from "New Vows"
"From this day forth to unhold,
to see the nothing in ringed gold,
uncare for you when you are old.
New vows you make me swear to keep -
not ever wake with you, or sleep,
or your body, with mine, worship;
this empty hand slipped from your glove,
these lips sip never from our loving cup,
I may not cherish, kiss; unhave, unlove..."

~from "Music"
...Do you think they cried, the children
who followed the Piper, when the rock
closed behind them forever; or cried never,
happy to dance to his tune, lost
in the music?
And the lame boy,
pressing his ear to locked stone
to carry an echo home in his head,
did he weep, alone, the melody gone? Tell me
who hasn't tossed a coin in a hat
for the busker on blues harmonica, heartbreak
in the rain;

~from "Cold"
...where it was cold when I woke in my room, the windows
blind with ice, my breath undressing itself on the air....

"Spell"

Yes, I think a poem is a spell of kinds
that keeps things living in a written line,
whatever's lost or leaving - lock of rhyme -
and so I write and write and write your name.

from "Luke Howard, Namer of Clouds"
"And knew
love goes naming,
even a curl of hair - thus, Cirrus.
Cumulus. Stratus. Nimbus."

I think "The White Horses" might be my favorite poem in this collection so far!
"The earth's heart hears hooves
under hillsides,
thunder in Wiltshire;
and the glistening rain, in wet hours,
all ears for the white horses, listens;
the wind, hoarse, gargles
breath and whinny and shriek.
The moon's chalk face pines for her foals...."

"...Here is the evening, displayed then dropped to drift to the blazon of barley, bracken, Heather. Something is gifting this great gold gathering of cloud..." From "Moniack Mhor"

"Hard, too, Heavy to hold, the mountains; Burn of his neck and arms taking the strain - Andes, Himalayas, Kilimanjaro - Give him strength, he heaves them high..." From "Atlas"

"How Long do fish live? It depends on the species...At the extreme, rougheye Rockfish may live as long as 140 years. I think this last fact deserves a moment's pondering. Fish this old were alive when Lincoln was president...it gives me sort of a queasy sensation to think that 140-year-old fish are being caught, filleted and sold as "Sea Burgers" at Cowboy Slim's fast food restaurants..."