Dave | unobtrusive lucidity

What’s In A Name?

There are weeks in which your to-do list gets the better of you. Then there are weeks in which you don’t deal with your to-do list because you’re actually too busy with everything else. This week has been the latter. I started classes on Monday and a new position on Wednesday evening, and things have been a bit of whirlwind since.

Last weekend though, Karen and I were out of town with family, and I managed to steal some excellent and uninterrupted writing time. The end result was that I finished writing the middle section of Part II of my novel-in-progress. That means that I have the final section to outline, and then only about 100 pages or so should be standing between me and a finished rough draft. I’m pretty happy about that. It feels quite nice to write that, actually, and I think I’m going to post more frequent updates here to mark my progress.

All that said, as I reviewed my writing to-do list for the week (none of which had gotten accomplished, of course…it seems to come in waves and leave just as quickly, this progress thing), one of the items was to re-evaluate the name of my protagonist.

That’s sort of a big deal.

Sometimes, us writerly types choose names for our characters carefully and methodically. Other times, the character sort of comes into existence in our heads complete with name and all. This particular character was just that way, and I’ve never even considered giving her a different name. The issue is that, apparently, it’s taken. I discovered a few months ago that a certain extremely popular novel that was recently made into an extremely popular film stars a major character with this same name. I had never read the book nor seen the film, as they aren’t really my style, so I was quite surprised. The name, you see, isn’t at all a common one.

So, my concern is this: will someone reading my novel after publication encounter this character literally on page 1, and think that I’ve copied her from a book I’ve never read, or a movie I’ve never seen? Or will they think that I’ve copied the name simply to gain a readership? Will they think that I’ve copied the name at all, or will they just roll with it? A name, after all, is never really original.

I’ve looked through some alternate names, but nothing has really connected with me, because, as I’ve gotten to know the character, naming her something else just seems to be forced. Not naming her something else, though, seems logistically problematic.

So, what would you do? Leave your character with the name with which she appeared, or arbitrarily change her name to something that may at least be close? I’m really stuck on this one. Any thoughts are appreciated.

The Right Tool for the Right Job

I had design professor in college for several different theatre courses. I have no idea what happened to him, as attempts to re-establish contact in recent years has been unsuccessful for me. What I will always remember him for, though, is a phrase that he used to toss around the scene shop: “You have to have the right tool for the right job!”

It’s a phrase that I’ve found myself repeating many times since then.

I think that we’ve always been fascinated with our tools. My father’s “man cave” was a wood shop that he kept in a separate, detached building from our home. He would retreat there to work on his various projects. I actually never understood why he didn’t sell them on a larger scale, because he could certainly have made some income with his talent. His shop, though, was loaded: saws, drills, hammers…all of the fun tools that you would expect in a shop, and not at all dissimilar from when I would be constructing sets in the scene shop. It goes without saying, I think, that when my dad had disposable income laying around for his hobby, it went to tools.

While I’m not in any way gifted at sculpting things out of wood as my father did, I need various tools with which to craft words, or write code. Whenever Karen and I have a disagreement over disposable income (including whether or not such a category exists for us on a given month), it frequently arises over my desire for a new tool: a new iPad, the most recent operating system, a new piece of software, etc. These tools consistently make my work easier and more productive, but my tastes frequently are bigger than our bank account.

The issue with tools is that, if I’m to generalize any sort of example from myself, we can often become caught up in the shiny news toys to the point of distracting ourselves from the project that we might be using them to accomplish.

Don’t tell her I said this, but I think that Karen’s reluctance to try new tools because the learning curve for them actually distracts from her productivity more than staying with an older system that she already knows, may be wise.

When I remember my dad’s wood shop, I can remember at least two or three items knocking around out there that received minimal use. I’m sure my bag of technological toys has a couple of those as well. Certainly, I’ve even loaded up our kitchen in the past with gifts for Karen’s culinary genius that have gone largely un-used.

Perhaps there’s a lot to be said for creatively finding ways to accomplish the task at hand, rather than over-equipping our arsenal of tricks with which to accomplish them. Perhaps we can accelerate our productivity to the point of being unproductive.

What do you think?

Capturing…and Editing…the Moments

Photography is one of those things that I’ve always wished that I had an eye for, but just don’t. When Karen and I visit art galleries, I tend to be drawn to the photography exhibits more than many others. There’s something about capturing real life as it transpires: the hope and pain in people’s faces, the tragedy and comedy of the play of life immortalized in picture. I love seeing the composition that my photographer friends place in their gorgeous images. I love how they transform certain moments by rendering them in black and white. The humanity captured through photography is so evocative.

I guess that’s why I don’t understand the trends I see in my Google + stream, or on Flickr, or on various other social media, in altering digital photographs in such a way that the colors are far too vibrant, far too “touched up” to be real. I see many photographs, and I feel as though I’m watching a classic film suddenly rendered in technicolor.

I’m not against editing photographs. I love the ability that technology has given us to improve our photos. I have forgotten what it was like to not be able to take three shots and choose the one that I want to keep on the spot, or to not be able to deal with red-eye later and save what would otherwise have been a glaring blemish in a photo of a family member or loved one. And all I use is iPhoto.

It’s when a landscape of an exotic location, for example, appears to have been suspiciously optimized for a retina display in a way that real life simply cannot appear, that I have a problem. Are we culturally so given to altering the aesthetics of our natural environment so as to “improve” it that we no longer want to view our landscapes as they really are?

I’m walking in slightly risky territory here, as I’m discussing medium in which I have no ability at all. I just think that there’s a difference between placing a creative lens on immanent beauty, and altering that beauty to something that we perceive as more beautiful.

Time Passages

I hope that I can keep track of what’s important.

That is, I find myself concerned a bit as, even while things go according to plan, I become anxious about the plan sometimes. This move has been different than previous moves for me…much different. Obviously, there’s the fact that I’m now moving a family of three, which is logistically an undertaking comparable to any traveling concert production, I’m convinced. Practically, this is also the biggest move I’ve ever done in regards to distance.

Also, though, this has been the biggest move in regards to emotional repercussions. I became extremely sad at one point during the process, and it lingered for days. I’m still not entirely certain why, but it was almost like I was grieving something. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany later.

As I’ve experienced this dramatic change in place, I’ve also experienced a profound shift in perspective on permanence. That is, I’ve began to recognize that certain things that felt permanent to me are in fact hopelessly temporary, and that what is critically important is, in fact, permanent. The career that I’m changing from was unduly stressful in its own right, but I had come to regard its daily schedule with a sense of permanence because of the comfortable income that it provided. Although we lived in an apartment that, by definition, is not a permanent home, I had come to regard the little routines and patterns there with a sense of permanence that not only belies my distaste for routine, but were also a practical way of staving off the chaos. I think that part of my struggle with this move has been trying to stay on top of being a parent and writer and (once again a) student in the midst of a set of systems that no longer work and have to be re-vamped or entirely replaced. Those systems, which allowed me to keep track of what had to be done and kept mine and Karen’s sanity, though, were very, very temporary things, designed for a temporary place that served us during temporary conditions.

For years, we were in holding pattern, wondering “what next?” in our lives.

And, now that we’re moving forward at long last, I’ve had an irrational difficulty letting go of the temporary. That is, the physical has been threatening to overwhelm the spiritual. What placed this into unyielding perspective, though, was two days ago in the back yard, as I pushed our daughter in a swing. As she giggled with delight and glided to and fro, she made extended eye contact with me, all smiles, her deep eyes communicating a wealth of information.

What they told me that afternoon was, “I trust you, Daddy.”

That’s permanent. Very, very permanent. Whatever transient circumstances and events rotate through our lives, my wife and daughter, and the responsibilities that I have to them, are permanent. They are persistent. They are pervasive.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Moving: An Interlude

In the interest of pointing out how valuable a fine arts education can be in “real life,” here’s a couple of practical ways that being (among other things) a theatre major in college helped during last week’s move as we trekked our life in a moving truck up the East coast.

1. “Of course I know how to tape that. I was a theatre major!”

2. Changing from work clothes into a suit for an interview in a small bathroom in under two minutes.

3. Determining what type of plywood would be necessary to fix a furniture issue after moving in.

4. General improvisation when the entire schedule for the day begins to closely resemble a train wreck.

See? Who says an arts education isn’t valuable? And the adventure continues…