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Letter to my awesome daughter

My wonderful daughter is now 17 (man, that makes me feel old!) and in her final year of high school. She recently went on her Year 12 retreat, and the school asked every student’s parents to secretly write them a letter, which they would all receive one evening while they were away. They’d be given time to read it in private and to respond with a letter of their own. I cherish every word of what she wrote back to me, but while I wouldn’t dream of publishing her words, I’d like to share what I wrote to her.


My Darling Baby Girl,

If I said that I’ve loved and adored you ever since the moment I helped deliver you out of the safety and warmth of your mother’s womb, and caught you, and placed you in Mum’s arms, and cut the cord, and welcomed you into this world… then that wouldn’t be true. Because, well, I already loved everything I knew about you even before you were born. We had some great conversations while Mum was still pregnant with you (even though I did most of the talking and your contributions consisted mostly of kicking and punching and doing somersaults). I played you my favourite music by holding headphones against Mum’s belly, which of course is the sole reason you have such excellent taste in music even today.

Then, you were finally born, and so… perfect. You were there to comfort me with your bright, curious gaze – never once crying, just studying the strange being whose voice you already knew – when Mum needed an operation right after you were delivered and I was so worried that you might be an only child. It all turned out well, but I was so thankful you were there with me.

You had me wrapped around your tiny finger from the very start.

Every step you made, every breath you tade… er, took, I loved every moment of watching you grow up. You see, it wasn’t just that you were so cute (and, oh my goodness, were you ever cute!), but also that you allowed me to experience the entire world through the eyes of a young child again. All the glorious beauty of God’s creation, and I’d become so accustomed to everything that I didn’t really appreciate it anymore… until you showed it to me again. What a gift! In return, I wanted to share everything that I liked with you. If I saw a movie that was really moving, or funny, or exciting, I thought, “Ooh, I’m going to watch this one with Debbie when she’s <X> years old!” If I read a book that was really good, I thought, “Oh boy, I hope she’ll become an avid reader and devour books by the truckload.” (And lo and behold, it came to be thus.)

Well, all right – I can’t take all the credit for everything. Nearly everything, though. Yeah, of course Mum was always there to spoil you as well, so… almost nearly everything, then. (Now stop being so nitpicky and let me enjoy this!) And spoil you we did, but, right from the start, one of my goals was to help you be the best you you could possibly be. One of the most important traits I taught you was to be critical. I’d tell you things, even before you could properly reply more than yes or no (but, wow, you understood so much already!), and then ask a question that challenged what I’d just told you. Somehow, you just didn’t let me fool you.

So many milestones* along the way. Having a little brother, then another. Experiencing the wonders of having pets, and of having them pass away. Kindy, pre-school, primary school, secondary school, changing school, making new friends. Becoming a teenager, lying to your parents, reconciling. The first boyfriend (whom I somehow didn’t even kill… no guarantees about the next one, though), your first break-up. Braces. Your first job. Becoming a mature young woman (you were always way more mature than most others your age).

(*Disclaimer: Events may not necessarily be in chronological order. Events in rear-view mirror may seem more or less significant than they really were, depending. On stuff.)

And now, and now… you’re still and will always be Daddy’s little girl, but you’re also a wonderful young woman, so full of confidence – and rightly so – in her ability to handle whatever the world throws at her. Seventeen now, #ohmigoshohmigosh #howdidtimeflysofast?!? You’re old enough to watch horror movies with us, old enough to laugh at all my dirty jokes that I had to bottle up for years before you would’ve understood them (even if you cringe at some of them, you love it!), old enough to write your own stories (which are getting better so fast it’s scary), old enough to have your L-plates and later this year your P-plates. Soon you’ll be old enough to vote!

Your journey in your final year in secondary school will end a chapter in your life that will seem smaller and smaller as you move on and open new chapters over time, but you should always be proud of all that you’ve achieved and accomplished and become during this impressionable time. I know I am and will always be proud of you. Your sharp mind is a weapon, use it to beat life into submission. You can be anything you want to be, because you’ve been handed these most important attributes by Mum and me: awesome brains, the heart of an artist and a poet, a killer sense of humour, and a smile that can melt any heart. There shouldn’t be any situation where the things we’ve handed down are not enough, but if there ever is… I’ll be there for you.

Love always and forever,

– Daddy

 

Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we’ve handed down

And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we’ve handed down

You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father’s
That you’d gladly sell or trade

And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed

By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we’ve handed down

– Mark Cohn, “The Things We’ve Handed Down”

Understanding Poetry – A to Z: U

U is for Understanding Poetry. Does that phrase ring a bell for you, somewhere in the dark recesses of your mind where you stash your movie knowledge? If not, maybe this excerpt will jog your memory:

To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech, then ask two questions: (1) How artfully have the objectives of the poem been rendered; and (2) how important is that objective? Question one rates the poem’s perfection; question two rates its importance; and once these questions have been answered, determining the poem’s greatness becomes a relatively simple matter. If the poem’s score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of the graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness. A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great.

Are we there yet? Yes, it’s from one of my favourite films, Dead Poets Society (although I keep wanting to add an apostrophe at the end of “Poets”… grrr). It’s the section from the fictitious poetry textbook by “Dr J Evans Pritchard, Ph. D.”, which Keating (played wonderfully by Robin Williams) gets the students to read before demanding they rip it out of their books. His comment about trying to shoe-horn something as ethereally beautiful as poetry into a mathematical formula?

Excrement! That’s what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard! We’re not laying pipe! We’re talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? “I like Byron, I give him a 42 but I can’t dance to it!”

Now the section they rip out was in fact taken from a poetry textbook still used in the U.S., from chapter 15 of Laurence Perrine’s Sound and Sense: An Introduction to Poetry. In Perrine’s defense, it’s not as bad (when read in context) as the film makes it sound, but the point remains that trying to apply an objective formula to something that’s typically very subjective is not going to work in many cases, as much as some people would like it to be that easy.

Keating goes on to make his point (and I’ll get to mine soon, promise!):

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer: that you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Great, but what does this have to do with writing, you ask? Well, the next time you need to introduce an interesting character in your story, consider introducing her by exposing her to something she absolutely disagrees with, and have her handle the situation in a manner as extreme as befits the situation.

When we show what a character likes, it reveals a little about them, and may invoke sympathy in some readers who have similar preferences. Showing how a character reacts when confronted with something they detest, however – now that will really let the reader know what they are about. After shocking the reader (or viewer, in the case of this film) with the unexpected reaction of a teacher asking his students to rip out pages from a book, and displaying what he is really passionate about, whether we agree with the action or not, the reader cannot help but be left with an impression that here we have someone not afraid to stand up for what he believes in.

To what will your character react in an extreme or unexpected way? What will your verse in life be? Let me know in the comments.

Here’s a video of this part of the film in case you’d like to relive it – enjoy!

Anthem of Why

Joe lives with his folks at home
Smokes little plants he grows
Cool for a kid
But today is the big “Three-Oh”
It seems all of his hopes and dreams
Got lost in habitual themes
Now he is crying
Tears of what could have been

He is saying, “Why, oh why
Did my life pass by?”
Could it be that all this time saying, “Why?”
You should’ve said, “How?”

Thirty candles you are blowing
None of which deserves a light
The only music you’ve been playin’
Is the Anthem of Why
Always dreaming, never doing
So they never did take flight
Still the music, that you’re playin’
Is the Anthem of Why

Stacey, dreamt of becoming a pop queen
Suddenly when she turned fifteen
Everything changed
She found out she had one on the way
And so she took all the posters of Britney
Mariah, Beyonce and Whitney
And with her dreams
She threw them all away

She was saying “Why, oh why?
If not for that night….”
Could it be that all this time saying, “Why?”
You shoulda said, “How?”

All the hopin’, all the wishin’
Girl, you traded for a night
And the music that you’re playin’
Is the Anthem of Why
Now you’re feelin’, all your dreamin’
Was just a waste of time
So the song that you are singing
Is the Anthem of Why

Always saying “Why oh why
Did my life pass by?”
Could it be that all this time saying, “Why?”
You shoulda said, “How?”

All the hopin’, all the prayin’
No, they never should have died
But they faded when you traded
“How” for the Anthem of Why
Gotta dream it, gotta feel it
If you ever wanna fly
Never sing it, never play it
It’s the Anthem of Why

— Guy Sebastian, Anthem of Why


Know anyone who’d rather ask “Why?” then “How?”

There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, but encourage anyone who sings the “Anthem of Why” not to forget that they need to go out and chase after those dreams. Good luck to any aspiring authors out there chasing their dreams.

Like Guy Sebastian’s song “Anthem of Why” from the album “Beautiful Life”?

Favourite films about writing

I recently watched the 1989 film Her Alibi, which I hadn’t seen for a number of years. I really enjoyed it, especially how Tom Selleck’s character constantly turns seemingly harmless events in his life into clichéd exaggerations on paper that are often typical of some of the, shall we say, cheaper mystery novels.

This got me thinking about some of my favourite films about writing or writers, and here’s the list of my Top 5:

  1. Dead Poets Society – arguably, this one isn’t about writing (poetry) so much as it is about finding inspiration in poetry, but it’s too brilliant for me to leave out.
  2. Finding Forrester – wonderful film about a friendship between a young talented basketball player and the old reclusive writer who helps the kid hone his writing talents.
  3. Limitless – exciting film about an author with writer’s block whose life changes drastically when someone gives him a pill that severely enhances his mind.
  4. Moulin Rouge! – won two of eight Oscars it was nominated for; a great musical about a writer falling in love with a courtesan in 1900 Bohemian Paris.
  5. Her Alibi – very funny rom-com about a writer who bites off more than he can chew when he “rescues” an alleged murderess from Romania by pretending to be her alibi.

Actually, they’re pretty much the only five I could come up with. I’m sure there are waaay more that I’ve forgotten or never even seen – feel free to let me know in the comments what your favourites are!