If I were a Character in a Book...

Writers know; good characterization in books is crucial to telling a good story. Characters need to have goals driving their actions, observable traits, development through the story, a combination of stable characteristics and fluidity to change and surprise the reader…

Basically, characters in books are complex with each thought, action, and desire thought out. Each little detail has a purpose and a plan.

Are we that intentional in our lives? Do we have the same depth that authors, editors, and readers demand from their characters?

And if not, why?

I came along this train of thought as I was trying to figure out how to create characters, thinking about the characters in my story. They are there, but they are very slow at showing themselves to me. I don’t even know their names yet! (This is probably because I am in the planning stages until I finish Grad School – I really hope they open up to me more once I start actually writing!)

I sat there thinking about my own characters, reading as much as I could from various writing tips to know what I needed to consider, and had the thought…

“What if I were a character in a story? What kind of character would I be? What defining characteristics would stand out to an author and be seen as important to include in the story of my life?”

*source

In some ways this was a very exciting thing to ponder on.

But in a lot of other ways, with my life as it currently is, it was actually quite disheartening.

I’m not sure that a character like me would make the editing cut into a final draft.

I’m not sure people would find me engaging and interesting.

I’m not sure I have those fun quirks we come to love in our characters, which maybe aren’t necessary to the story, but make those characters come alive in our minds.

I’m not sure I have those things that make us love our characters.

But I want to.

If I plan to make my characters engaging, endearing, and exciting, why would I not want to be that way myself?

So for the past few weeks since I made this world-shattering realization about myself, I’ve been thinking and searching and evaluating myself more than ever before.

Because if my life were a book, I would want people to want to read it, want to get to know me, and ultimately, be changed by reading about me.

Over the next weeks, months, and years as I begin my journey as a writer, I’ve decided that I am going to ask myself the same questions I ask about my characters.

Because I want to understand myself the way I hope to understand my characters. Also, I want to be more intentional in my life and find ways I can make changes to become who I want to be.

Some of those things will be personal for only me.

But some of those things I plan on sharing here to reveal my character to you, dear reader.

And maybe as I share my experiences with understanding myself, you will be encouraged to understand yourself more as well.

So – here are a few quirky things about me. Things that, silly or inconsequential as they may be, make up a part of my identity.

1)    I eat Cheetos Puffs like they are going out of style. I don’t know why I like them so much, but I can’t stop eating them. It gets to the point that my tongue gets a little raw. (That’s referred to as food trauma, did you know? Any hurt or cut in your mouth that is caused by food: food trauma!) It’s absolutely ridiculous and yes, not the best for me. But I have a small stomach and don’t eat a lot, so it may not be nutritious, but it’s not pushing me over a healthy, normal amount of calories. Most days at least. 

2)    My favorite candy is Laffy Taffy. Though I love chocolate, the past year or so I’ve been on a more fruity candy kick. Laffy Taffy is seriously the best. (There have been multiple times over the past few months that I have gone to the grocery store for 4 things. Milk, cereal, Cheetos Puffs, and Laffy Taffy. What the?)

3)    Recently, I’ve started painting my nails more consistently. I consciously changed this because I wanted my internal book character to have painted nails. It’s been just over 2 months of keeping them painted and I am loving it. I even got a compliment from a worker at Firehouse Subs. She said, “you always have the cutest nail polish!” I did a little mental happy dance, because to at least one person, my character would be known as having my nails painted.  Yes!

4)    I am an ankle sock hoarder. Not just normal, boring, white socks. I’m talking socks with designs and colors and excitement! Today, my socks are blue and grey with little pink hearts, black and white lines, and darling little whales with water coming out their spouts. So fun. I wear these socks with my canvas shoes. I know normally you wouldn’t wear socks with that kind of shoe, but I do. Because I want to. I’m proud of my socks and I want people to see them! Target is feeding my addiction. They always have tons of fun socks for $1.50 a pair. If I see them, I literally cannot stop myself from buying at least 1 pair. It’s a problem. But not. Because I love it. Here's an example from Target online. I want them all. 

That’s all for now. I’ll revisit this topic again from time to time when something hits me.

*(A picture of me painted by a former roommate, Allie. She made one for each of our 5 roommates and together they decorated our living room for a year. Amazing. Loved it. But now I have no idea where to put this picture. It's in my brother's basement. It feels weird to put it in my room...)

But now I want to know about you – what things make you unique? What would your character look like if you were in a book? What quirks do you have that make you into a real, relatable human being? What would you add to your inner-book-character if you could?

Please share, I really do want to know!

9/30 Part 1 - 10 People of Influence

9: List 10 people who have influenced your life and describe how.

So, I realized that if I said everything I wanted to about these 10 people (or groups of people), this post would be pages and pages long. So, each number gets its own post to save you from getting too bored.

I feel much more able to do each person/group justice to the amount of influence they have had on my life.

The list:
(in order of when they will be posted, not importance to me; that order would be impossible to commit to)

1. Jessica and the Seattle gang
2. Amanda and the Coding Lab gang
3. My high school band director
4. Veronica Roth (yep, you're getting more of that)
5. My Mission President
6. McKenzie
7. June Bee
8. Malorie
9. My Sisters
10. -Honestly, I'm still deciding who this is/will be, therefore, the order may change a little, we'll see

#1. Jessica and the rest of the Seattle gang
(disclaimer: No, we were not an actual gang).

The summer of 2008 was spent in Seattle with an amazing group of girls. We lived in 3 top floor penthouses in an old apartment complex right next to I-5. We had roof access, needed keys in the elevator to get to our floor, slept in rooms big enough to fit 3 people easily with a kitchen that could barely fit two.

We were there doing research on families and what promotes healthy family outcomes. That was good experience for sure, but it is not what sticks out to me.

What sticks out is how I changed that summer. How I drove to Seattle by myself because I was too scared to drive that far with someone I barely knew; I didn’t really know  anyone I would be living with for the next 4 months. And then somehow, drove away feeling like my heart, which finally felt whole and healthy and happy, was being ripped out of my chest. Going from not knowing these girls, to feeling like I didn’t know how to live without them.

 

The course of my life changed forever that summer. And it was because of Jessica. And Brittany 1, Brittany 2, Cherice, and Janae. Because of Stephanie and Danielle and Jami and Kimber and Jennifer and Celeste and Charity and Chara and Rhea and Malvina and Valerie. (and please tell me I didn’t forget anyone. If I did – sorry!)

That combination of girls was somehow perfect, God-led and God-inspired, to change me. But the thing is, I didn’t actually change at all. What changed was my perception of myself. My acceptance of who I was. The realization that I was not nearly as deficient as I had always thought. The knowledge – yes, knowledge, not just belief – that these girls accepted me. That they loved me. And nothing I could do would change that.

I learned that they didn’t just kinda like me in spite of my flaws. But they loved me because of them. And that difference, if you haven’t felt, is huge.

I learned that the things about myself that I was always a little embarrassed about were actually strengths and qualities that endeared me to other people. Never, and I do mean never, had that possibility entered my heart.

Through Randy (the project director), I learned that I was not just simply shy. My whole life had been determined and colored by the fact that I thought I was shy; there was something wrong with me; I was different and could never truly be accepted as long as I had those differences, except by a very select few.

He taught us (though it felt like he was just teaching me because of the lightning bolts shooting across my brain, rewiring all of my previously held beliefs) about introversion and extroversion. He taught me that to be introverted does not mean I am shy, but that I renew my energy stores by being alone, by thinking and processing my world, rather than by being with people. For the first time, I realized I didn’t have to change who I was to be loved by others, and more importantly, to be loved by myself.

I learned that I was not inherently wrong or bad or in need of a major personality overhaul. That actually, I was quite normal. And that my feelings about myself did not have to be determined by the society that taught me I was wrong, that I could defy the extroverted ideal and embrace this central part of my identity.

I learned from Jessica in particular, that two people, who are extreme opposites on the introverted/extroverted scale, can become incredibly close friends and balance each other out. I learned how to work through differences because of greater understanding rather than assuming my friend didn’t love me or wanted to hurt me.

Leaving that group of people, and Jessica especially, was the hardest thing I’d done up to that point. Almost everyone else was going to be at BYU together the next year, but I was moving home and soon to leave on an 18-month mission. It broke my heart to know that I would not be there with all of them. That they would all be graduated by the time I got back. That chances were very high that I would not have that same relationship with any of them ever again.

My heart felt like it was getting ripped out my chest when I got a package from Jessica full of reminders of our summer as roommates in that Seattle penthouse apartment because I missed her so much and longed for those days to return. My stomach dropped to the floor when I realized I had lost her address so I couldn’t write her back. I still regret being careless about that little piece of paper.

When I returned from my mission, and went back to Provo, I slipped into the closest thing to a depression as I’d ever felt because those people I loved were not there.

(Sidenote: that was when I fell in love with and became obsessed with Supernatural. I was hurting so much, felt so empty, and knew literally no one but my brother, that I became a little addicted to the adrenaline I felt when I watched those first scary episodes of Seasons 1 and 2. I replaced my emptiness with adrenaline and couldn’t get enough. You know, of the adrenaline AND those gorgeous men).

I still miss these friends all the time. Some I saw a few times my last year at BYU, some I didn’t. But I know that they all still care about me, just as I still care about them. And that if we ever were to get together, it would be just like old times.

And even if it weren’t, 2008 in Seattle was still the best summer of my life.

Because these girls picked up a mirror and showed me who I was and taught me to love that person I’d seen staring back at me for 21 years.

And for that, I will always, always be grateful.

To all of my Seattle friends: I miss you. Most of you I see updates of your lives on Facebook and it makes me happy to see that you are doing well. I wish each of you all the best - for what you gave me, you seriously deserve everything. Love you forever and thanks again. :)

Next up: Remember that almost depression I talked about? Well, Amanda and the coding lab are the ones who saved me from that. 

30 Things - an explanation

On my old blog, I started 30 things (originally found from this great blog). 

And, well, in a year, I only completed 3 of those 30 things. Oops.

I'm going to try 30 things again here, just with some new rules. I stopped because I would get held up with deeper, more involved topics. So, instead of going in order, I am going to jump around the 30 things depending on how much time I have to write. I'm hoping that will help. 

Hopefully breaking things up like that, plus interspersing these posts with book reviews and other posts, I will be able to get content up more quickly. 

Here's the List:

1. List 20 random facts about yourself.


2. Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.


3. Describe your relationship with your parents.


4. List 10 things you would tell your 16 year-old self, if you could.


5. What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?


6. What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?


7. What is your dream job, and why?


8. What are 5 passions you have?


9. List 10 people who have influenced your life and describe how.


10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.


11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.


12. Describe a typical day in your current life.


13. Describe 5 weaknesses you have.


14. Describe 5 strengths you have.

15. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?


16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?


17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?


18. What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?


19. If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?


20. Describe 3 significant memories from your childhood.


21. If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?


22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?


23. List your top 5 hobbies and why you love them.


24. Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.


25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?


26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?


27. What is your favorite part of you body and why?
2

8. What is your love language?


29. What do you think people misunderstand most about you?


30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for. 

This I Know

* Originally written at the end of January 2013 on my original blog. 

Do you ever feel like you forget who you are? Like there are so many different things smothering you for time and attention that you slowly lose yourself. You can see pieces of you slowly leaking out and away but there’s nothing you can do to stop the continuous draining.  Until it feels like nothing is left.

I’ve been feeling like this lately. Probably because of my anxiety-ridden licensure exam coming up in 3 weeks. But for many other reasons as well, I’m sure. I do know the main reason I feel like I’m losing myself, unsure if I’ll ever get those pieces back, but I’m not quite ready to talk about that just yet. It’s coming though.

But really. 2012 was a very hard year for me. I am so relieved it’s over. And desperately hoping 2013 is better.

So…

What do you do when you feel like you’re losing everything that makes you, well, you? It’s an incredibly unsettling feeling. Especially when you’re trying to become a therapist and help others only to realize that you need so much help yourself. That’s okay though, right? I’m allowed to be human, too, aren’t I? Sometimes I need that reminder. That permission to be fallible. To make mistakes. To feel those emotions I help my clients deal with. But still… it’s hard to give yourself that permission. Especially when you really haven’t given yourself permission for much, ever, which is my unfortunate tendency.

The only thing I can think of right now is hold onto the pieces of myself that are still there. That I can identify. That feel real. And true. And since discoveries, especially of the self- variety, are what I really like to share here, this is what I have come up with so far. 

This I know about me - Rachel.

1. Maxi skirts. Who knew that such a simple article of clothing could come to feel so right to me? I feel so comfortable in them. So free.

I really hate clothes. Especially when they constrict. And I especially hate pants. I made it all summer with only wearing jeans once. To me, that is a beautiful thing. My discovery of maxi skirts helped free me, once again, and in another way, from society’s expectations for me. Or my perception of society’s expectations. Whatever.

I hope to one day have my wardrobe full of maxi skirts. Other skirts are nice too. And maybe someday I’ll break down and get some leggings to go with my boots. Cause I sure feel great in boots too. I think that if you had to define yourself in terms of clothing, I would be a maxi skirt. Comfortable. Free. But classy. And flowy. Cause what better word to describe yourself is there than flowy?

2. My hands. And how I adorn them.

For some reason, I am at peace with my hands lately. I bite and tear at my nails incessantly. I’ve tried to stop. I can’t. I don’t really care to anymore. I have owned my short, sometimes jagged nails. They like to be painted fun colors, but have been sad because I’ve been to busy, or lazy, or both, to give them the color they like. Sorry nails. I’ll try to do better. (Post-edit: About a month after writing this, I started painting my nails again and they have been painted for the past 6 weeks. Yay for progress!)

I’ve not worn rings since I was pretty young, except for a CTR ring. Until I lost my CTR ring and the others I had didn’t fit comfortably. I always wanted to wear rings more, but I got my dad’s hands and my fingers are just thick. Which makes it very hard to find a ring that actually fits and looks good.

Then.

This summer at West Yellowstone I found the ring. The one ring that actually flattered my fingers. And excited my eyes. And brought a smile to my face. It was a big turquoise stone with the most beautiful veining. And a small-ish silver band. I can’t do just small bands because then my finger looks huge. But a small band with a large stone on it? Oh yes. Yes, that I can do. And I have loved it ever since.

Then.

I finally got my eagerly, and not-so-patiently waited upon ring from my beautiful Grandma. She collects them. And got enough for all her granddaughters to have one of her rings. My sisters and I were among the last to receive ours, but only because we live so far away. We semi-hesitantly trusted Mom to pick our rings for us when she was on a trip to Utah. She called me to discuss the options, but I had to go off descriptions because her phone is ultra-ghetto and won’t send or receive pictures. I was unsure how they looked, and nervous that the picks for the 3 of us would not quite suit us. Finally it came.  And suit me it did! Large smoky quartz stone in a beautiful antique-esque silver band. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. Sarah and Becca’s were beautiful, too. Geez, my grandma has exquisite taste in rings. I hope to glean more of her ring knowledge from her this summer. Because this is knowledge I need. Desperately. One of these two rings is on my finger every day. Except when I forget them and upon realizing my mistake, curse myself and feel naked and so un-Rach-like all day long.

I have also recently added a charm bracelet to my left wrist. It was also bare since I lost my CTR ring in March, 2011. I had the most perfect watch that I would put the ring on for safe keeping when I wasn’t wearing them. Well, the gremlins in my mom’s van stole them after my MFT interview. I hate those gremlins. No matter the searching I did, I never found any watch, or other decoration, that accurately said “I am you. I make you more yourself. You need me. Right there, on your left wrist.” And so it’s been naked. And alone. And sad.

Then.

James Avery had a sale on their new bracelets. Buy two charms, get a bracelet for free. Sign me up, I declared! I looked at the charms for probably an hour. Because picking a charm is no light business for me. Especially the first charms. Finally I found the ones that not only called for me, but fit within my poor-grad-student budget.

A music note. Because few things affect me like music does. My dream life is still playing French Horn in the pit of broadway musicals. Please, if you ever see a charm with a French Horn, get it for me. I’ll pay you back. You know how most people, especially girls, always have something on their minds that they are thinking about and planning? That doesn’t happen for me. When I don’t have something I’m actively thinking about, I have music playing in my head. It’s completely unconscious. And completely beautiful.

Also, a dove. This was a more abstract pick. I wanted something for my chosen-if-not-exactly-dreamed-of profession. A marriage therapist. But what would a charm for that look like, exactly? A couch? No. So I thought about what my purpose would be in that profession. To help people.  To pull marriages up through the muck of pain they’ve been slopping through. Or. To give hope. To give peace. Which is what a dove represents, after all. (Not to mention the religious significance of a dove, which is also important to me).

I have two more charms ready to be added. My best friends forever half-heart that fits together with my thank-goodness-she’s-still-around-and-loves-me-cause-I-need-her best friend, Malorie, given to us by her mother at my graduation. And my Texas heart charm. Because my heart is always in Texas. And Sarah is getting me a nativity charm soon, which yes, will be on the bracelet year round, because what more could I want than a constant reminder of Christmas and that dear little baby who saved me?

3. Reading. Oh, reading.

I am consumed by it. In a wonderful, coming-alive sort of way. All my worries slip away as the story weaves through me, lifting me to something higher. I am changed, yes, but in all the right ways, by the books I read. I think more critically, feel more deeply, desire more strongly because of being swept away to new places. Places I could never explore if not led by the hand by these authors with the most beautiful gift of words. I find myself in those pages. In those words, between those lines and through those experiences of characters so different from myself.  And what have I found?

A desire. A desire that has always been there, but never came out into the light for me to really see and examine. It was there, but out of focus and blurred differently each day. But it has stepped out into the light. I’ve seen it, felt it, studied it. And now this I know:

I want to be a writer. An author. I want to lead people by the hand, as I have been led so many times before, and take people where they could never go without my help. Into the recesses of my music-filled mind. Into the nooks and crannies, shadowed corners and vaulted ceilings of my imagination. I haven’t even really been there myself, but I want to go. I want to make a record of my journey and share it with others. For no other purpose than enjoyment. Fun. Hope. Peace. For me and for them.

And can I share a secret? I’m terrified. This desire (which was brought into the light by Veronica Roth and Divergent, by the way,) scares me to the core. I don’t know how to write a novel. I’ve never written more than 25 pages in one work. I’ve never written more than what has been required me by my professors. Never once have I written creatively, with the exception of my blog. But that is all based on life experiences, not pulling a story out of nothing. I only ever took one literature class, which I loved, but wasn’t even in the genre I plan to write in. I don’t know the first thing about any of this writing business. AND I’m about to get a degree in therapy!

And somehow I have the audacity to think that I can do this. That I can (with plenty of practice, mind you – I don’t expect this to come easy or naturally) write a story that other people would be interested in, maybe even pay money for. I partly think I must be having delusions of grandeur, because this desire seems so unlikely, so impossible.

But I want it. I want to write. And read, because every writer knows you have to read at least as much as you write. Maybe I won’t ever get published. Maybe I won’t ever get past a short story. Maybe the only people to read it will be myself and those few friends I trust to share in the intimacy that comes with writing from the heart. But I want to do it. I want to try.

I don’t really know how to work this out with school and licensure and a profession looming. But I’ll figure out a way. Because somehow, I feel like the only way to find myself again, after losing so much, is to write.

And read.

And so that is what I plan on doing.

Love,

Rach

(What is your favorite piece of clothing that makes you feel you? What are your accessories that scream at you that they belong with you, on you?)

(And for the love of all that is holy, AM I CRAZY? Those of you who have read my writing, is this possible? I need some encouragement cause like I said, I’m awful scared.)