Lessons from Panic: The Honor's Project Edition

It’s true that I didn’t do a science project, like I thought I would be over four years ago, when I was still believing that I would go into pharmacy school after university. But I was part of that statistic that changed their major and went a completely different way, and now am presenting at the honor’s conference with what some would say is an art project instead. This art project, however, has been close to my heart for quite awhile, longer than the year it has taken to complete! I first heard the story of the individual who would inspire this project over four years ago, and it touched me even then. How to express it though? That’s where screenwriting came in.

In my last screenwriting class, taken in Hollywood -one of the more negatively viewed cities to the Christian world – I learned the craft of telling a story visually. We are visual people, after all. That is why the symbol of the cross encouraged Constantine to engage the battle that won him an empire, why the Eagle was displayed prominently on the Prussian flag, and why Walt Disney’s name is still associated with those simple round, black ears. People go to the movies these days and are impacted by the story, but perhaps more importantly, the visuals. Scenes from art become iconic – God reaching out to Adam for example! And movies are no difference. Learning to write in a way that will impact people takes time, some training, practice, and discipline. And I had to learn this by immersion. I threw myself into the daunting task of writing a full-length screenplay, and pushed through the despair, perfectionism, and joy to come out with knowledge of why writers exist: to inspire.

My journey has been one of a writer who has realized the power of strong images. I’ve learned how to piece together a story that makes sense in my head, and express it to others. I’ve learned how to take a story and make it clear to other people. But as I’ve learned all of these things, and so much more, I’ve learned that my job as a writer is to inspire. I honestly believe, after spending time in Hollywood, that stories inspire many of the people there because they yearn for a graced and good world. The lost want to be found; they want to have a reason to get up in the morning. And that’s why writing exists: it inspires people to face the ugly, and see the glimmer of hope. Just as Buechner sees the Gospel as tragedy, comedy, and fairytale, so can life be seen through the same lens. Movies allow us to literally SEE the dark, the funny, and most important of all, the ideal. Without people there to put the fairytale ending into stories, however, we may be left with just the dark, or just the funny, but with no hope or joy or lasting vision.

The discipline I have explored in the past year has let me practice putting my own ideal, my own fairytale into a story that would otherwise be just another war story. The story is sad, it is bittersweet, but it explores an idea that most of do not fully grasp, or are able to perfectly practice: forgiveness. My script has allowed me to examine the dark side of life, the tragedy of the bad choices we make; it has allowed me to laugh at the realization that despite the gloom, there is happiness out there that can be spread; and it has let me show that fairytales can indeed become reality, if we only accept the tragedy and comedy in life. Forgiveness is not a fairytale, as many of faith will tell you. But it often seems like it in the life and the cinema we see. We all need to be reminded that forgiveness, and mercy, and grace are not just things that happen to characters in book – they are part of a graced and good world, the ideal. Fairytales can happen to us, if we only continue to be reminded that they are, in fact, real.

I only hope that I can express the optimism of the ideal into others, through the visuals and words I write.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Today, I spent almost 10 hours reading one book series.

This entire odyssey started out some time last week, when I decided to read "Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief", before the movie came out on Saturday, February 12th. So I read the book.

And got insanely hooked. Like, crack cocaine hooked.

It was bad. I couldn't put the book down.

I saw the movie afterwards, and it was great, but of course, the book is almost always better (except you, "Coraline").

Having realized there was more than one book, I, naturally, had to know more. So I borrowed the second one, as I had done the first, from a friend who conveniently had all five. Talk about enabling. If awesome books were drugs, I would give the local narcotics unit a run for its money.

Saturday. WHOOSH! Second one, gone!

Sunday. BAM! There went the third one.

Monday. Conveniently, it's a holiday. And I had little homework. The fourth and fifth book, in their hardcover glories, never saw it coming.

And now I'm done, left grieving the fact that one of my favorite characters has, as normal in my world, died, and that the book series is over, but at the same time, getting teary eyed at the awe I have for Rick Riordan and his inventiveness and prose. His writing and his world melded perfectly into my idea of what a great fiction writer is. It was like Pixar, in book form.

Basically, go buy/borrow/scan the web for a copy as soon as you can. You won't be let down.

I think one reason I am so completely and ridiculously in love with this series, however, is because it had the ability that all books have: it submerged me in a world where the impossible happens, and I utterly and entirely bought it. The story drew me in like the mention of free food for college kids. One promise of greatness, and I was there. And it delivered.

There are a few great books/book series that I can remember getting almost possessed by; ones that I HAD to finish reading as fast as I can OR I WOULD DIE (caps for emphasis, though perhaps because that's how it feels, too). A few of these series, in no particular order:

1. Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan
2. The Looking Glass trilogy by Frank Beddor (still need to read the 3rd book, but more than ready to!)
3. The Sword, The Ring, The Chalice by Deborah Chester
4. The Grave Book by Neil Gaiman

I love to read, and yes, I realize that most of those are fantasy/sci-fi/heavy fiction. But I love it. I love love love it.

Mostly because it helps me imagine that I can make a difference in the world. Sometimes, you feel so small, that you have to realize that even a seemingly insignificant person can accomplish something great. I mean, the main character in "The Grave Book" is named Nobody - you can't get more blatant than that with the point!

But it's the epic tales, the ones that have no chance of ever actually forming, that make my heart soar, my soul leap, and all those other cliches mostly pertaining to love come true.

I love a good story. I love a good hero. I love it when people who turn bad turn back to good. I love when you get an answer to that unanswerable question. I love when an ordinary person gains an extraordinary ability. And all of those rarely happen in a world that is not two-dimensional and filled with words on paper.

I don't know how many other people feel this way after reading a great book, but you come down from a sort of word-induced high. You feel like crying, something so moved you, even if you're half wondering why you feel like that. And more than anything, for a brief, flickering moment, you think: perhaps it's all true? NEV-AH! Shouts Reason, and there you are, left holding a book, tears in your eyes, wondering "what if?" and realizing you should probably do something productive since you have class tomorrow (like write a blog post...).

Yet at the same time, you feel as if you've left a tiny portion of you within the pages of that book. Something connected, and both of you left a mark on each other - even if the mark you left is the stain from eating salsa while reading. And while it's saddening to think you can never experience that world in that book as a newcomer again, you leave with the knowledge that you have.

I know quite well why it is probably better that the world isn't filled with Greek gods, heroes, kids with ghostly powers, dragons, and events that catapult people into extraordinary positions of power. But sometimes, I'll admit, I wish they did. Life would have clearer white and black boundaries. I'd love to be a hero, or someone who had a distinguishing feature or power, or even someone who is normal and appears last second to save the day almost unknowingly. Yet the truth is, I'm not, and never will be, in the sense that these books inspire in me. And I can accept that.

But it's still with a heavy heart tonight that I go about business as usual, doing last minute forgotten homework assignments (putting off last minute forgotten homework assignments) and getting ready for my eventual meeting with bed.

Today, I spent almost 10 hours reading one book series.

And it was glorious.