I wouldn't do very well if I were in the NBA playoffs.
There are a number of obvious reasons for this. I'm not very big. I'm not very fast. I'm not very strong. And I'm not all that good at basketball. Also, I don't have a killer instinct. That's a very important element for being a successful NBA player in the playoffs. Now that that playoffs are in full swing, I hear a lot on TV about certain players having a killer instinct--the ability to put a game away when it comes down to the wire. A player with a killer instinct isn't afraid of the spotlight. In fact, he shines in the spotlight. He plays his best when its a one-possession game and the final seconds are ticking.
But that's not me.
I used to have it, I think. I even got an award for it. Not in basketball, of course. The only award I ever got for that were the little trophies all the kids got when I played in elementary school. One year, when the coach gave me my trophy, he said my award was being "The Best Shooter in Traffic." Which I don't think meant that I was a great shooter. I figure it meant I had poor shot selection.
In any case, I did get an award for having a killer instinct when I was on my high school's newspaper staff. At the end of each semester, we had a staff party, and we would eat chips and queso, and I would flirt with all the girls, and they would shoot me down. It was a good time. Then the editors would give out awards to everyone and say something nice about them. They called the award "Warm and Fuzzies." That's what happens when you have 20 girls on the staff and only three guys.
Anyways, one year my Warm and Fuzzie was for being "The Best Under Pressure." I was pretty proud of that. When I was on the newspaper staff, I knew how to get it done. Deadline day was my day. If there was someone who was sick and hadn't written their story, I would take it. If we needed a quotation to fill out an article, I would go do an interview. I'd do whatever needed done in order to get the paper ready for printing.
I had a killer instinct. Nowadays, though, I think I've lost it. A person with a killer instinct rises to the occasion. When they are in a situation when they need to perform, they don't disappoint. These days, when I face a situation when I need to perform, I do my best to put it off. When it's crunch time and I need to have a book written for class, I figure I can find some time later. When I agonizingly finish writing a paper, I don't bother reading back over it. When the spotlight shines, I duck back behind the curtain.
Is a killer instinct instinctive? Is it an innate trait that some people have and others don't? Or is it something that can be developed? Are there steps a person can take in order to produce when it matters most?
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Dreaming Together
I'm not very good at the things I write about.
Sometimes when I'm bored, I go to my blog and read a couple old posts. Why? Because I am just that egocentric. But as I've looked over some of these old posts, I've noticed that there are a few themes that pop up pretty frequently. I suppose that's how it is for any writer--they gravitate toward certain topics. There is a problem for me, however. I normally have no idea what I'm talking about. Many of the things that I tend to write about--taking risks, relationships, increasing productivity, trusting God--these are areas of life that I'm really not that great in. I'm not very good at the things I write about.
I could write about things that I do excel in, but I don't think many people want to read blog posts about eating chicken nuggets or sleeping past your alarm.
I guess that makes me a hypocrite. I encourage others to do something but then never do it myself. But maybe I'm only a hypocrite because we've come to think of the purpose of writing in a certain way. Our world today is so pragmatic. We focus so much on learning how to do certain things. We read books that give us tidy outlines and lists of steps for improving our lives. Since this is the situation in which we live, I feel the pull to write according to that model. When I start a post, I normally only have half an idea, and when I get to the end, I think, "Well, now I need to give readers some practical advice," so I make up some nonsense that I've never tried and that I'm not even sure will work. I might as well give singing lessons to Adele.
The problem with this pragmatism is that, while we might make good doers, we don't make good thinkers. When we only read or write about what we need to do to make our lives better, our imaginations shrink, our critical thinking skills dwindle, our dreams become smaller.
I started this blog almost four years ago with the idea that life is a conversation. Navigating life is a difficult enterprise, and we would all be a little better at it if we were to listen to one another. For a while after I started writing, a lot of my good friends also started blogs, and it was great to glean from the wisdom and passions of each of them. Now most of those blogs lay dormant, which is what happens when people grow up and get married and start real jobs, I guess.
I wonder sometimes if my blog has run its course and I should stop writing. It does take up a good chunk of time, and I normally don't have enough of that as it is. (I mean, all these YouTube videos aren't going to watch themselves!) I have trouble coming up with new ideas, and I don't think any more people read this than did two years ago.
But I've kept on writing, and I plan to continue. Writing this blog helps me more than it helps anyone else, I imagine. I need the opportunity to formulate my thoughts, and I still hope that somehow, the ideas I tap out encourage or challenge others. I'm not willing to let the conversation drop, because I need it more than anyone.
If life is a conversation, and if writing is a means of contributing to that conversation, then it would make sense for a post not to end with a clear conclusion of pragmatic principles. That's not how we converse in real life. When I have a conversation with someone, I don't end each statement with ways that what I've said can be applied in everyday life. I just say what I want and leave it out there, waiting for the other person to respond by adding to it, countering it, agreeing with it, or changing topic. Conversations are open-ended. So I think it's okay for a piece of writing to be open-ended. It doesn't have to conclude with a challenge to go do something; it can simply stop when I'm doing saying what I want to say.
In writing and reading, we engage in collective dreaming. When a person writes, they don't have to just present principles for application, as if they are saying, "Here's how you can learn from me. Here's what I'm an expert in, so let me share it with you." Instead, the writer can cast a vision of what life could be and invite the reader to join in that vision. When we write, we have the power of projecting a possible world, even if we haven't really achieved the vision we describe.
That's why I can write about things I'm not good at. I might not excel in these areas, but I would like to grow in them, so I put this dream ahead of me so that I have something to move toward. When I do this, I'm not saying, "Hey, listen to all my great advice so that you can be more like me." You don't want to be more like me. I'm a pretty messed up guy. But what I am saying is, "Hey, this is how I want my life to be, and it's what I want to move toward, and I'd love it if you joined me in this."
So join in the conversation. I'm not going to get through life real well on my own.
Here's ten ways that you can do this..........
Just kidding.
Mauric Sendak, the author of the children's book Where the Wild Things Are, died today. I watched the movie adaptation of this book a while back and really liked it, even then it was really weird. If you want to see some of my thoughts on it, you can check them out here.
Sometimes when I'm bored, I go to my blog and read a couple old posts. Why? Because I am just that egocentric. But as I've looked over some of these old posts, I've noticed that there are a few themes that pop up pretty frequently. I suppose that's how it is for any writer--they gravitate toward certain topics. There is a problem for me, however. I normally have no idea what I'm talking about. Many of the things that I tend to write about--taking risks, relationships, increasing productivity, trusting God--these are areas of life that I'm really not that great in. I'm not very good at the things I write about.
I could write about things that I do excel in, but I don't think many people want to read blog posts about eating chicken nuggets or sleeping past your alarm.
I guess that makes me a hypocrite. I encourage others to do something but then never do it myself. But maybe I'm only a hypocrite because we've come to think of the purpose of writing in a certain way. Our world today is so pragmatic. We focus so much on learning how to do certain things. We read books that give us tidy outlines and lists of steps for improving our lives. Since this is the situation in which we live, I feel the pull to write according to that model. When I start a post, I normally only have half an idea, and when I get to the end, I think, "Well, now I need to give readers some practical advice," so I make up some nonsense that I've never tried and that I'm not even sure will work. I might as well give singing lessons to Adele.
The problem with this pragmatism is that, while we might make good doers, we don't make good thinkers. When we only read or write about what we need to do to make our lives better, our imaginations shrink, our critical thinking skills dwindle, our dreams become smaller.
I started this blog almost four years ago with the idea that life is a conversation. Navigating life is a difficult enterprise, and we would all be a little better at it if we were to listen to one another. For a while after I started writing, a lot of my good friends also started blogs, and it was great to glean from the wisdom and passions of each of them. Now most of those blogs lay dormant, which is what happens when people grow up and get married and start real jobs, I guess.
I wonder sometimes if my blog has run its course and I should stop writing. It does take up a good chunk of time, and I normally don't have enough of that as it is. (I mean, all these YouTube videos aren't going to watch themselves!) I have trouble coming up with new ideas, and I don't think any more people read this than did two years ago.
But I've kept on writing, and I plan to continue. Writing this blog helps me more than it helps anyone else, I imagine. I need the opportunity to formulate my thoughts, and I still hope that somehow, the ideas I tap out encourage or challenge others. I'm not willing to let the conversation drop, because I need it more than anyone.
If life is a conversation, and if writing is a means of contributing to that conversation, then it would make sense for a post not to end with a clear conclusion of pragmatic principles. That's not how we converse in real life. When I have a conversation with someone, I don't end each statement with ways that what I've said can be applied in everyday life. I just say what I want and leave it out there, waiting for the other person to respond by adding to it, countering it, agreeing with it, or changing topic. Conversations are open-ended. So I think it's okay for a piece of writing to be open-ended. It doesn't have to conclude with a challenge to go do something; it can simply stop when I'm doing saying what I want to say.
In writing and reading, we engage in collective dreaming. When a person writes, they don't have to just present principles for application, as if they are saying, "Here's how you can learn from me. Here's what I'm an expert in, so let me share it with you." Instead, the writer can cast a vision of what life could be and invite the reader to join in that vision. When we write, we have the power of projecting a possible world, even if we haven't really achieved the vision we describe.
That's why I can write about things I'm not good at. I might not excel in these areas, but I would like to grow in them, so I put this dream ahead of me so that I have something to move toward. When I do this, I'm not saying, "Hey, listen to all my great advice so that you can be more like me." You don't want to be more like me. I'm a pretty messed up guy. But what I am saying is, "Hey, this is how I want my life to be, and it's what I want to move toward, and I'd love it if you joined me in this."
So join in the conversation. I'm not going to get through life real well on my own.
Here's ten ways that you can do this..........
Just kidding.
Mauric Sendak, the author of the children's book Where the Wild Things Are, died today. I watched the movie adaptation of this book a while back and really liked it, even then it was really weird. If you want to see some of my thoughts on it, you can check them out here.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Confessions of a Flat Character
For a story to have a meaningful plot, there needs to be round characters.
My least favorite book that I had to read for English class in high school was Shakespeare's The Tempest (I disliked it even more than Kate Chopin's The Awakening. And that's saying something). I felt like the story had no real plot. Maybe this was because it was buried too deeply in Shakespearean language, or maybe it was because my 15-year-old mind wasn't developed enough to grasp it. Here's how I understood the storyline of The Tempest: people get shipwrecked on an island, they walk around for a while, and then they leave the island. No real conflict, and no real character development. It was lacking what I saw as round characters.
Round characters are essential to a good story. According to Brittanica's website, round characters are complex and undergo development, sometimes to sufficiently surprise the reader." This is in contrast to flat characters, who are "two-dimensional in that they are relatively uncomplicated and do not change throughout the course of a work." A round character is different by the end of the story than they were at the beginning, whereas a flat character is more or less the same.
I wonder what kind of character I would be. I look around at people around me, and I see a lot of round characters. I see people who are moving forward in their lives' stories--trying new things, building new relationships, going new places. And it's not just that others circumstances change; they change as well. It's like they, I don't know, grow up and become adults.
Then I look at myself, and it's hard to see much change. Granted, a lot of circumstances have changed for me in the last year. I'm living in a new city and going to a new school. But my own character is more or less the same. I've ordered double-decker tacos every time I've gone to Taco Bell every since they were added to the menu. I've been combing (or more accurately, not combing) my hair the same way since I was ten. I still wear a t-shirt and jeans every day. My humor is the same, my likes/dislikes are the same, the way I talk is the same.
That's not a good way to live a life, because it doesn't make a good story. At the end of my life, I don't want people to say about me, "He showed up, walked around for a while, and then died." I want my life in 20 years to be completely different than it is now because I had progressed over that time. (I still hope I'm eating double-decker tacos, though. Those things are delicious).
I'm not totally sure how a flat character becomes a round one. I imagine it involves such things as change, risk, and conflict. A good story requires these elements, because it's through them that a character develops.
In the end, then, I guess it comes down to a decision. A character can choose to remain sedentary, or he can choose to engage life in all of its fullness, with its accompanying conflict and danger. It makes for a scarier life, but a better one, I think. We weren't all meant to remain the same.
Still not throwing away my jean shorts, though.
My least favorite book that I had to read for English class in high school was Shakespeare's The Tempest (I disliked it even more than Kate Chopin's The Awakening. And that's saying something). I felt like the story had no real plot. Maybe this was because it was buried too deeply in Shakespearean language, or maybe it was because my 15-year-old mind wasn't developed enough to grasp it. Here's how I understood the storyline of The Tempest: people get shipwrecked on an island, they walk around for a while, and then they leave the island. No real conflict, and no real character development. It was lacking what I saw as round characters.
Round characters are essential to a good story. According to Brittanica's website, round characters are complex and undergo development, sometimes to sufficiently surprise the reader." This is in contrast to flat characters, who are "two-dimensional in that they are relatively uncomplicated and do not change throughout the course of a work." A round character is different by the end of the story than they were at the beginning, whereas a flat character is more or less the same.
I wonder what kind of character I would be. I look around at people around me, and I see a lot of round characters. I see people who are moving forward in their lives' stories--trying new things, building new relationships, going new places. And it's not just that others circumstances change; they change as well. It's like they, I don't know, grow up and become adults.
Then I look at myself, and it's hard to see much change. Granted, a lot of circumstances have changed for me in the last year. I'm living in a new city and going to a new school. But my own character is more or less the same. I've ordered double-decker tacos every time I've gone to Taco Bell every since they were added to the menu. I've been combing (or more accurately, not combing) my hair the same way since I was ten. I still wear a t-shirt and jeans every day. My humor is the same, my likes/dislikes are the same, the way I talk is the same.
That's not a good way to live a life, because it doesn't make a good story. At the end of my life, I don't want people to say about me, "He showed up, walked around for a while, and then died." I want my life in 20 years to be completely different than it is now because I had progressed over that time. (I still hope I'm eating double-decker tacos, though. Those things are delicious).
I'm not totally sure how a flat character becomes a round one. I imagine it involves such things as change, risk, and conflict. A good story requires these elements, because it's through them that a character develops.
In the end, then, I guess it comes down to a decision. A character can choose to remain sedentary, or he can choose to engage life in all of its fullness, with its accompanying conflict and danger. It makes for a scarier life, but a better one, I think. We weren't all meant to remain the same.
Still not throwing away my jean shorts, though.
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