Ending Epiphany

I ought to have finished the book three days ago. But it is more difficult than I thought it would be. And the writing goes more slowly the fewer words I have left to spend, if that makes any sense. Am on page 158 and keep backtracking and rewriting and going round and round the same paragraphs, trying to determine the best way to end this. I am now realising why so many of the promising contemporary novels I have read go pretty much to pot from the climax onward, all the way to the end. And that's because it's very hard to pull off a convincing ending. But it has to end...and soon...
People are beginning to breathe down my neck...

Another novel thought

I am at pages 138. I figure I have to start wrapping things up. Perhaps about 60 to 70 pages to go. No more than that.

I also feel that things ought to be coming to a crescendo. And it's a little dismaying that they don't seem to be. Yes, circumstances are playing themselves out. Characters are moving, seem to be growing and they're talking a whole lot. But I am not sensing the kind of urgency that the later pages of a novel ought to be invested with. Am I stuck in a long novel? Qualm qualm qualm.

At Border's yesterday, I looked at the books in my "sector"...and came across only one that was something close to three inches thick ala War & Peace. The others were at a comfortable inch or inch and a half.

But it struck me as self-indulgent. I recall RS from 100 years ago saying to me, thin books don't sell. But still.Unless you're talking about an epic with a cast of thousands like, say War & Peace, I really have difficulty reconciling that kind of length in this kind of sector.

Call me a cynic. But one of the genuine charms of this genre resides in its brevity.

I think.

One more idle Idol thought

Neil Diamond was a fun night and all. But it occurs to me that there are other songwriters that deserve Idol nights. Off the top of my head, what about Kenny Rogers, Billy Joel, Abba, The Carpenters, Michael Jackson, Diane Reeves, Patti Austin. A Patti Austin night would be cool.

Is Idol COOKED?

As in...niluluto in Cook's favour?

Something funny happened on IDOL that made T and I think that maybe the show is pre-arranged. Paula made a boo-boo which cast today's show in a dubious light.

This evening, the final five had two chances to perform. All five sang their first songs, and then the judges were asked to weigh in. Except when Paula was asked to comment on the first contestant, Jason Castro, she commented on the both his songs - even though technically, he hadn't sang yet!

Now by itself,that wouldn't be much grounds for anything. What lent the proceeding even more suspicion was the reaction of both the judges as well as the final five themselves to Paula's blunder. They were tense and poker-faced as though hoping against hope that she would pull it together and recover by herself.

She didn't.

The funny thing was even the contestants looked blank. If I were Jason, it would have shown on my face - "Whaddya mean my second song? I haven't sung it!"

But it didn't show. It didn't show on anyone's faces.

Quickly Simon had to rein things in and jump in with his comments, thus keeping Abdul from giving her (literal) two-cents worth on Archuleta, Brooke White and Sayesha. Phew.

Now what was that about?
Wierd.

I am realising...

that when you write a novel, you live in a fictional world. And when real world work crops up, it is a torturous and frightfully difficult thing to drag yourself out of the world you have created and into the one that you actually exist in physically. The act causes you to experience a sensation that's akin to seasickness or the nausea of pregnancy.

It's interesting the things this is bringing to my surface.

Overwhelmed

In the dawn of this new year, I wished for bounty. Here we are on Month 5, and I continue to be surprised and overwhelmed by everything that has been falling my way. I am realising however that I need to stop being an open basket of possibilities. At a certain point, I need to make choices - accept some things, reject others, and confront what is always my difficulty - trusting my instinct about what I want, what I need, and what is right for me.

This of course means that I must also say no. Saying no is yet another way of doing what is right for me.

Good advice not just for would-be Idols

"I want you to do two things. First, open your eyes. Second, open your eyes."
Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber to David Archuleta

Archuleta says, 'Take That, Cook!'

Who doesn't like David Archuleta? What's not to like after all? He's cute. He's got appeal. He's disarmingly humble. (We should remember all the past idols have been humble, and this may be Cook's Achilles heel).

And no one can deny the Archuleta kid can sing.

But beside David Cook's vocal inventiveness, I had always thought Archuleta was the lesser David. Someone who is talented but at the end of the day, not ready. Not certain enough in the person that he is. Nice, yes. Cute, yes. As good as bubble gum pop or vanilla ice cream. OK...maybe even French vanilla...with a cutesy boyband twist. Nothing like the raw, edgy strength and confident energy that is the foundation of Cook's capable pipes.

But tonight on the Andrew Lloyd Webber show, Archuleta came back. He said, you want inventive? I'll give you inventive.

He sang Think Of Me. Think of me???!!!! WTF! Who would have thought? OK, edgy it was not, but it was new and different and pretty cool. Loved the acoustic sound! And really I think he has transformed a Broadway hit into pure pop for a new generation of listeners who wouldn't have ever heard this song their entire lives if he hadn't sung it. He made it sound like a Stephen Bishop song. Or a Rex Smith song. There were shades of Simply Jessie. Good, it was great. And although it was nice to see a different side of David Cook, his theatrical Music of the Night was solid enough, but it paled in comparison to the novelty of Archuleta's performance. Little David, as ALW called him, is not going to be taken down that easily. Or at least not without a fight. This David is taking on his Goliath. And the song was a clever slingshot.

Other idle Idol observations to nowhere...

*Why is Simon trying to slow the Archuleta tide? I thought his comment was way off.
*I am a fan of Brooke for making the most of what she has and working with her limitations, but come on. You can't mess up twice in the season. First with the restart in the Sting song. And then restarting the orchestra for You Must Love Me. That said, I thought it was a good song choice for her. It was written for Madonna after all...another one who has made the utmost of her vocal limitations.
*I also thought Carly Smithson got a very very unfair advantage. ALW steered her clear off her original choice of All I Ask Of You which would have been a certain disaster and would have gotten her kicked out tomorrow. As it is, she's safe just because she was saved from her song choice. Why didn't he steer my friend Jason off of Memory?

Who's coaching these kids? In Project Runway, you always have that designer guy on hand to steer them clear off bad mistakes. No one's doing that for them on Idol. What the contestants should understand is that Idol is about pop music and the broadway show show is about making a stage hit sound like it's coming through to you on the airwaves, ideally in a hit record.

That said, here are some pop-able ALW songs in no particular order that could have been attempted tonight...

Unexpected Song, Come Back with That Same Look In Your Eyes, as well as Tell Me On A Sunday Please - all from SONG AND DANCE. JESUS CHRIST SUPER STAR's I Don't Know How To Love Him was made pop in the 70s by Helen Reddy, and could have been done again. It would have been interesting to see someone do Simon Zealotes for kicks. Or maybe David Cook could have sung Heaven on My MindPr "Could We Start Again Please." Some of the other new songs written for the movie version of EVITA, also possible as well as Another Suitcase in Another Hall. Barbra Streisand did All I Ask Of You, so it didn't really make it as a pop hit...

Clearly I could go on...but there's been enough idle/idol time.

Another crack me up Castro quote

"I didn't know a cat sang it!"
(about Memory)

New addiction

There is a beautiful outdoor cafe by the river. Nestled in a quiet corner beneath the shadow of a bridge, it sits in the shade of large trees. Sitting there, you feel each and every breeze that comes off that green river and even though there is a roof over your head, you are soaking in the great outdoors even while the free wireless flows your way along with the sunshine. The staff are friendly and nice and don't mind wild cackling or if occasion warrants, impromptu dancing. They serve good coffee with lovely cookies, which I will sometimes succumb to. But most of the time, I will have my iced green tea and me and the swingapore sister will write write write away...and push that word count up up up to the heavyside layer. There it is easy to sink into that meditative, creative state. Just say Eehhhhhmmmmmmmm....

I call it river-writing. Heartfelt thanks to my chicklitclick master for discovering it and showing it to me. It rocks.

Meanings of dreams

When he asked me to marry him, T promised me he would love me, be faithful to me, and always always interpret my dreams. I thought that was very romantic, but I have come to understand why he said that. Very shortly after the wedding he confessed in truth my dreams are pathetically transparent, pose absolutely no challenge and get this, they never did. He said I have what is known as a very literal subconscious - the has no real reason for being because everything in me is right there for all to see, very very close to the surface and ultimately, out there.

Anyway, last night I dreamt that my friends are waiting for me and quickly getting very irritated. I cannot go with them because I have left my bag as well as my watch at the far end of this very long strip of sandy beach. I then try to hurry to get my things but walking quickly in sand is very difficult and slow-moving, and my things get further and further away the more quickly I try to walk. My friends begin to show their aggravation. Some start to laugh at me. I hear them in the distance, and start feeling desperate. I have no idea why I am so slow...like I am in a dream. And then I realise I am dreaming, and I wake up.

T says my dream is about me recognising that right now in my life, I am spacing out and I am realising that if I don't come out of it soon, I know I will face much ridicule even from those who are on my side. Although it may be an easy one, I must say he has always been one for the shrewd and snappy dream interpretation.

The way things work

At the their school, the students sometimes get awarded certificates for jobs done well, good behaviour or some kind of excellence in either academics or conduct. K has received one, and C has received something like five, much to her consternation. Today, he said he got another one for "enthusiasm in DEAR" - translated this means, when it is time to "Drop Everything And Read", C is first in line and last to put the book down. But of course he loves it. For us, his heavy-reading family, this is hardly a mark of excellence.

But C has explained to me how it works...

C: You see, K is a model student, right? And I am...
ME: You are not a bad student...you just need to behave better...
C: Yes, I am average...in behaviour...and so they give me these to inspire me to be even more good. But K is too good... she does not need to be inspired.

What do I do? He is too smart for his own good. Must mention this in next PTA meeting.

Quote for the day

...At the top of his voice, over the backdrop of LOVE SHACK playing at forte...

"Those of you who are new to Body Pump, take it easy. To the regulars, I say... welcome to the PLANET OF PAIN!"

-Andrew, the Body Pump gym instructor

Losing the plot

This expression always used to tickle my funny bone. Now it's not funny at all.

I am at the precipice of page 76 on a novel I need to deliver a draft of by May 1. Which means I have about 130 pages left, more or less. All of a sudden, I'm not sure what to do next. The outline I structured no longer fits and I am now at sea. There are a couple of directions I can take it, but once I take even one step forward, I must be committed as there is no turning back. That commitment is tough to find.

I must first see it...and then make it happen.
Not the other way around.

Brother and sister

Today was a bad day for C.

We went to see the opthalmologist who said that C could no longer play gameboy. He wasn't told to reduce the playing time per session. Nor was he told to play just two days a week. Dr. F said he should stop - full stop - until his eyes stabilised, in about four years. At first I thought C was taking it well. By the time we got to the car, he was weeping inconsolably. After all, a week to a nine-year-old is already an eternity. He simply could not conceive of four years. I tried to comfort him as best I could. I said that every child has something they have to bear. I talked to him about how K can't submerge her head in water when she swims because of her ears, and how she has made the best of it. He can too. We decided that he would give his gameboy away to M's son - a boy who is older, whose eyes are not weak, and who would not normally have access to a gameboy. That seemed to placate him, a little - the fact that there could be some happiness out of his pain. But when he got home, he continued to cry for a good long while.

I let him play one last time as a goodbye.

Now no more. The only thing that cheered him up was the thought that we could buy his favourite Gameboy game on the Wii platform, which our opthalmologist does allow. But still, it was a very tough day.

Driving K home from art camp, I told her about C's troubles. She was flabbergasted.

"Four years! Four years!??" She sighed with genuine sympathy and murmured softly to herself,"Poor C."

When she got home, she said, "I have something to cheer you up, Coby." She handed him one of the canvas paintings she did at art camp - a charming, rather deft picture of a vase of sunflowers against a navy background. I braced myself for a sarcastic comment or an angry, quick-witted retort. But he looked at it for a moment, then said,

"That's really nice, K. Thank you. Mom, can I hang it in my room?"

He brought it to his room, and we looked for a spot it could stay until we could manage to get it hung. He looked at it again, and smiled a little even though his eyes were still swollen and his cheeks still tear-stained.

K had made him feel better.

One thing you can count on...

...when you're in the supermarket and they start playing Peabo Bryson's Nothing's Gonna Change My Love You, at least one supermarket staff member will sing along. Very likely more.

Easter Sunday

Pushing my family to 8:15am Easter mass may have been difficult, but it was certainly worth it. It was also the children's mass which not only made it not just appropriate but actually shorter than the other masses today. The children were led out Pied Piper style to enjoy their liturgy separately from the adults and K and C willingly went, as these days they are wont to do. But when they came returned, K had a face.

"How was it?" I whispered.

"Not great," she whispered back, clearly underwhelmed by the experience.

Then she proceeded to deliver a hilarious impression, complete with accent, of the lady in charge of preaching the children's liturgy...

"Jesus rose from the dead to save us from sin - be quiet and sit down!... and the bunnies give us life because they multiply...Put that down or leave immediately!"

I swear I almost burst out laughing right in the middle of mass.

I guess you had to be there.

Where are all the great Beatles songs?

Christy Cook should have sung From Me To You. Amanda Overmier should have sung Hey Jude. David Archuleta chose well with The Long and Winding Road, but he could have also done The Fool On The Hill or Nowhere Man. Michael John should have sung All You Need Is Love, although I do like A Day In The Life. David Cook chose well with Day Tripper but I guess the judges were right. It was too much like last week. He could have sung Norwegian Wood.

I actually liked Carly, the tatooed Irish chick's choice of Blackbird but she could have also done justice to Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. Brooke White should have sung Strawberry Fields like Sandy Farina or I Will. Jason Castro should have sung I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends like Peter Frampton did. He kind of has that goofy Peter Frampton quality.

Chikezie should have sung Get Back.
Sayesia was okay with Yesterday but Here, There, Everwhere would have also been a good choice. As for Ramielle Malubay, (who if I may say, doesn't seem to be hungry for this at all), if she really wanted to be upbeat, she should have sung any of the following: All My Loving or I Want To Hold Your Hand or She's Gotta Ticket To Ride or she should have stuck to her strengths with a meaningful ballad like For No One. Why has no one sung For No One?

Why aren't they picking them? I guess because they've never ever heard these songs before. Then again, who's coaching these kids? Why don't they have a Beatles mentor?

What about Nowhere Man? What about Golden Slumbers? What about Strawberry Fields or Penny Lane or You Never Give Me Your Money or my all-time favourite Paperback Writer?

Needless to say, I could go on and on and on.

Funniest IDOL quote for me

"I just found out that Ma belle is French. I thought it was English."
- Jason Castro

Sitting with the Amoy traders

Those who do not know Singapore tend to harbor all sorts of stereotypes about it. Some true, and some, just patently untrue. For instance too many people worry inordinately about chewing gum. Some will dismiss the city state unfairly as being a little on the sleepy side in terms of night life, something that may have been true when we first moved here in 2000, but is quickly changing, even as we speak. Other misconceptions? That it is a city with no sense of history or culture, that there is nothing to do here except shop, go to the zoo and the bird park, and eat. That it is a concrete, urban mall city devoid green.

And of course, that's not true at all. Back in 2002, at the height of SARS, we decided not to set foot in the malls for so long as the disease was at large. Instead we spent our leisure in the city's parks and reservoirs. With K and C just a wee age four and three respectively, we would pack our lunches and get them out in the fresh air, trekking or hanging out at the playgrounds. We would always eat at outdoor restaurants believing (and I still think rightly) that the better the air circulation, the safer we would be. Forget the Botanic Gardens, we traipsed around the nature reserves - Bukit Timah, Bedok, Lower Pierce and McRitchie as well as places like Sungei Buloh. But it was not just the parks. Unlike many cities in Asia, there are little pockets of green in unexpected corners of the city, as well as tiny slices of culture. Like the beautiful sculpture by the massive tree, suspended in mid-air of boys leaping into the river, right behind the Fullerton Hotel, for example.

Yesterday, I found myself arriving at my meeting in a shophouse on Amoy street much too early. And since I couldn't find an open coffee shop or eating house, I decided to sit on park bench and read my book under the trees beside the Amoy traders. Just another lovely sculpture in the city of Singapore.