The Power of Emotion

Posted on 28/06/2013 by Lynn

Humans like to think they operate mainly using reason but the truth is we don’t give anywhere near enough recognition to the primitive brain and its effects on our emotions. It’s a rare story that succeeds even though the characters have nothing endearing about them. The scriptwriters of television shows such as Doctor Who and Red Dwarf are well aware of this. The reason these shows attract a cult following is the emotional roller coaster journey each character takes in the course of an episode, the incredible twists and turns in the plot, and the fascinating settings. The characters may be bumbling fools, self-seeking blamers, unbelievably vain, but if they show their emotions we can recognize elements of these traits in ourselves, no matter how suppressed or minimal, and so identify with their character.

If your bad guys are all bad, then they will come across as shallow cameos and if you’re not careful they’ll turn your story into a farce. If your reader has an inkling of why your antagonists are so nasty e.g., they were brutalized in their youth by bullies or parents, or they lived in a hostile environment, then they become more engaged with that character. When your audience identifies and sympathizes with your antagonists needs as much as they do the protagonists, then you can be sure your reader will keep turning the pages, especially if those needs are dire

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Lost Loved Ones

Posted on 28/06/2013 by Lynn

Suicides are such tragic affairs. The event causes a ripple that passes over many people. What are the parents thinking? Do they feel guilt; a belief that they could have helped somehow? Did they even know that their son, or daughter, was depressed? Do they feel that maybe they could have been more understanding? Or are they at a complete loss as to what happened?
And what of the person who was driven to take such drastic action. Was a broken marriage, the bust up of a relationship, and low self-esteem the catalyst? Was he, or she, ill? Could he have had undiagnosed bi-polar, or did he not take his medication? Was his suicide a spur of the moment decision or a long, slowly evolving determination? Whatever the cause, would he have done it if he had understood the consequences, not only on his parents, relatives and friends, but also on their friends and all who hear about it? One life taken can affect a hundred people to varying degrees. Only parents and those who have lost a sibling can truly begin to understand the horror of this tragedy, but others will sit stunned and question their own life in relation to the suicide.

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Swift Stream

Posted on 28/06/2013 by Lynn

It’s strange to hear on the news that Robert Hughes is dead. He has been making outrageous statements all my artistic life. The greater the number of people that die, who have impinged on my life, the faster life’s stream seems to pass. It’s as if I’m a weed clinging to the bank but, at any minute now, the tide will rise or a flash flood will come and I’ll be gone. It makes life feel unreal if you think about it too closely. It makes the strands that hold us anchored feel as thin as a single hair, one that is trying to stop an elephant stampede. And when that thread snaps, Niagara Falls and Victoria Falls will be the chasm awaiting us. Hughes passing seems to have been on a slow but inexorable current as he’d been ill for a long time. I wonder if, in the end, he felt it was a relief to finally let go and wash away with the tide. I hope that it led into daylight, and not the oft-threatened everlasting night.

R.I.P Robert Hughes. Australian Art Critic who died August 6, 2012

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Fantasy Writing as a Reflection on Character

Posted on 12/03/2013 by Lynn

Fantasy

At its best, fantasy is a reflection on character. It is a vehicle for fundamental truths. It is an excellent tool for the author who seeks understanding of self and of society. It portrays humanity’s bigotry, racism, fanaticism, blindness, ignorance, arrogance and what we would like to believe of ourselves. It also portrays all that is good about us. The motives and philosophies that drive nations can be painted safely distance in otherworldly settings. The harsh reality of life is softened for the reader, made more acceptable, more digestible, even if we are presented with the truth about ourselves and not merely what we’d like to believe. Beneath the entertainment there is no less rugged criticism on humanity than is to be found in any other discourse.

Fantasy authors, as do most successful authors, generally shine a spotlight on particular areas of interest both to themselves and to their readers. Because authors often portray an exaggerated and repressed aspect of themselves, this genre’s novels, as is the case in most other genres, are often horrifying.

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Fighting the Spell Checker

Posted on 12/03/2013 by Lynn

Yet again, the spell checker is fighting me with my attempt at discourse. In my desire to communicate, I am trying to use several big words that it knows I am unable to spell correctly. I know people whose lips curl into a sneer when someone tries to use big words that they are not accustomed to and either mispronounces them or gets their meaning wrong, but if you are seeking to express yourself, all words should be available, and if you accidentally use them incorrectly, why is it such as big deal? We, all of us, learn in the course of our lives, and it’s a rare person who knows every word in the English language, never mind their meanings.

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Living in the Tropic 1

Posted on 08/03/2013 by Lynn

I don’t think those who live in countries such as England, Ireland, or Wales, understand the verdancy, vibrancy, or glamour of the greens, with which nature blesses us. When it hasn’t rained for three months and the landscape has turned to shades of brown we who live in the dry tropics forget what it is like when the rains have come. We forget what it is like to look out at green grass, greenery in all its variations, subtleties, and its exquisiteness. We forget the sensation of it playing our moods with all the finesse of a master bard. Then it rains and our souls sing, our spirits soar, as everything starts to grow, streaking to the sky in an exultant rush.

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Photography is simply a tool.

Posted on 11/02/2013 by Lynn
The eclipse as a golden ball on the horizon, with a path leading to the beach.

This gallery contains 4 photos.

In November 2012, thousands flocked to far north Queensland from all over the world to view the full eclipse. In Townsville, we knew there’d only be a partial eclipse, but still some of us thought this event important enough to … Continue reading →

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Artists Market

Posted on 19/12/2012 by Lynn

I attended the Townsville Artists Market, Riverway on Sunday. With 65 stalls, it was a major event. Pinnacles Gallery staff and Townsville City Council are to be congratulated for providing this great opportunity for local artists. I also enjoyed the chance to catch up with fellow artists, listen to the music, and watch the performers.

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Survey This!

Posted on 19/12/2012 by Lynn

We attended the opening of David Rowe’s Survey This! at Perc Tucker Regional Gallery on Friday night. He hasn’t let us down with this recent showing of his inimitably confronting work.

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Chatter

Posted on 04/11/2012 by Lynn

When do words fail me? When does the macro of my mind refuse to come forth, or worse still, cease to exist? I am, therefore I am not; I am not many things, but what exactly am I and who or what will I be but dust? Will water soothe and wash troubled souls?

Yes, I say. It does soothe. Stand in a hot shower on a cold winter’s night and you’ll see how much it soothes even unto bone. But does it still the mind?

Not often. That betrayer of wisdom ever gabbles on with useless prattle. Breathe in deep, breathe in peace, breathe in silence as it were a sweet perfume born on the breeze. Wear silence like a mantle that it may cloak all noise, even the roar of truck and the hum of train waiting on distant rails to pass over the bridge. It hoots, at last, and hopefully will leave, now that it has set my ears to ringing. Calm. Think not of noise but breathe in silence and let it bring peace to strife. It is not the external that truly troubles me but internal habits of thought. Breathe in silence and breathe out ill-invited habits, cravings, and strife. The train, itself, as it roars past, troubles me not. Only it’s waiting upon the tracks.

The train passing reminds me of other times, of night horizons, distant city lights that seemed like a ship on an ocean of dark and ever as mysterious. A child’s memory, belonging to an almost forgotten era, and still retaining a child’s sense of wonder and magic. Oh, that I could bring that sentiment to bear on the present; that I could face each day anew in such a way. [inspired by A Midsummer Tempest by Poul Anderson]

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