I just saw Disney's Moana for the first time last month. And yeah. That's a whole lot of quirky packed into one movie. I expected a fun family summertime make-some-popcorn kind of movie. And it most definitely was. But it actually had some great themes to think about. Here’s the whole deal: Moana, daughter of an island chief, is fascinated with the water. Only problem is, her people don’t go beyond the reef. For any reason. The only reason they even go out to their tiny reef is to get fish. Dad’s got reasons for the rule (sort of). But there are two problems that are strongly suggesting it might be time for a change. One: A mysterious darkness is rotting the island’s coconuts and devouring the fish. Legend says it is due to the long-missing Heart of Te Fiti, a glowing green rock that has the power to create life. Unfortunately, it’s been buried in the ocean for years now, centuries, really. And only Moana’s grandma believes in it. Also, the darkness is coming for the natives next. Two: Moana was chosen by the ocean when she was just a toddler to find Maui (oh, yeah, the guy responsible for taking the heart) and restore the heart of Te Fiti. Might explain the fascination. The opening song Where You Are insists that “you can find happiness right where you are” (along with a bunch of random stuff about coconuts that I have yet to figure out). And the movie proves it’s true. Moana loves her island. She might have stayed there forever. But the ocean called her to something different. So Moana bravely defies tradition and sails off into the ocean alone. Oh, did I mention she can’t sail? If it weren’t for the ocean's "help" and running into Maui, she might have gone in circles forever. The more obstacles Moana and Maui run into, the more it becomes evident that Moana is not prepared for this role. Ever-helpful Maui reminds her of this frequently. The last straw comes when Moana causes Maui’s magical fish hook which allows him to shapeshift to be cracked. Maui, who believes he’s nothing aside from the powers bestowed upon him, leaves her stranded on the boat. Just Moana and the ocean. The wave surges up before her. Moana holds out the glowing heart. “I’m not the right person. Choose someone else,” she begs. “Please.” And the ocean seems to agree. It takes the heart and vanishes. But, in typical Disney fashion, a song and dance number with her grandma who is also a stingray reminds her of what the viewers have seen all along. Moana was the only one with spirit enough to dive headlong into the Kakamora pirates to rescue the heart. The only one with determination enough to hold her breath and jump into the Realm of Monsters. The only one clever enough to distract a giant killer crab with bioluminescent algae. The only one who dared to dream beyond the reef. The only one who could see past Te Ka’s fiery façade. Yes, the ocean made the right choice. We, too, are chosen. By someone much more powerful than the ocean or the legends or a magical fishhook. We are called to something different than those around us. We dream of things others haven’t dared to think of yet. A darkness is coming for our island as well. And it’s doing far more than just rotting coconuts. It’s taking away the light that our world needs so desperately. We have been chosen to bring life back to our seas. Sometimes we don’t want to leave our island. It’s perfectly safe and perfectly sound. We love it and we know exactly what our part is there. Sometimes we feel like all we are our own magical fishhooks. Like we’re nothing beyond the abilities or impressions we give other people. Sometimes we feel like we’re just bumbling our way through sailing. Like we don’t have any of the skills we need. And sometimes that makes us feel alone. We watch our best-laid plans vanish into the ocean and take it as more proof that we’re not meant to be here. But you are the one He chose. And whether or not you have all you need, you have something that makes you the only one to accomplish this mission. You don’t need demigods or magical fishhooks. You already know the way. So chart your course for new islands, explorer. *What did you think of Disney’s Moana? Have a favorite Moana song? Share your adventures in the comments below!*
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Today, I'm going to start out the writing new year with an underrated animated film called Epic. Ever heard of it? At the center of this fun film is a magical pod--the last thing the kingdom of plant men and women have of their queen, and their only hope of defeating the enemy Boggans who'd like to rot their entire kingdom from the inside out. That pod is placed in the hands and care of Mary Katherine (MK) by Queen Tara as the queen's final act. Only problem? MK is a human, mysteriously shrunk down to the size of the plant warriors. She has no idea what she's doing there. She just wants to go home, if it can be called a home. She doesn't belong there. Or so she thinks. See, MK works better alone. It wasn't really her first choice--with her mom gone and her father, shall we say, distant, she had to adapt. "You may be connected," she tells Leafman commander Ronin. "But I'm kind of on my own." As for Ronin, he should be the expert on working with others. "Many leaves, one tree," is the Leafmen's motto, of which he is a leader. But no matter how hard he tries to protect anyone and everyone, he seems to lose everyone he cares most about--his best friend; Queen Tara; and his best friend's son, Nod. Nod is just tired of the Leafmen in general--or more accurately, just Ronin. He wants to do his own thing his own way, and usually does, no matter what anyone else says. The perfect trio to guard the kingdom's last hope. Changing gears here for a second. Writing has been aptly called the lonely craft. And it is. No one else can write our stories for us. We have to put on the noise-cancelling headphones and do it ourselves. Our stories are a whole different world, where anything can happen. Where things happen our way. Sometimes it's hard to remember that while we have to do the writing, we shouldn't do it alone. We need family, friends, readers, editors, and more to see us through. Some of us have people to support us. Some of us don't. Some of us can't even figure out what the people we call our team are even doing. It's so easy to hide our story world away and do things our way. How do we change that? Accept your strengths and weaknesses. Accept your uniqueness, what makes you you. No, MK didn't belong in their world, but that gave her unique advantages and connections to the human world. A different perspective that could turn the tides of battle. Yes, Ronin was over-protective. But perhaps it was that--the hurt he had seen--that made him such a good leader, willing to give anything for those we cared about most. Yes, Nod was reckless. But is was his spirit of adventure that stepped in and pulled the Leafmen together for one more battle when the odds were slim. You be you. You've got something no one else has. Use it to its full potential. And remember, everyone you're working with has their unique strengths and weaknesses, too. Maybe where you have the disadvantage, they excel. Find a way to bring them in. To encourage them to make the most of their abilities. Nod wouldn't have come along if Ronin hadn't asked. MK's dad wouldn't have helped them if she had given up on him. There will be mistakes as you and your team mates figure out those strengths and weaknesses and how to use them. Throughout Epic, all three characters make pretty big mistakes--multiple of which cost lives. While our mistakes aren't likely to do that, they can cause other problematic fall out. There's nothing to do but to climb back on your bird and fly again. To sort through the fall out and try again. This is not a feel-good post that says anything is possible when you work together. People are weird creatures. Some people reading this may truly not have anyone to support them. It's tough. It's really tough. But don't give up. Look for people who can help you, and people that you can help. Get connected somehow, even if it's not quite in the way you thought it would look. It's good advice for all of us--don't give up. Epic is a little over ninety minutes long. Imagine if even one of the trio of characters had given up thirty minutes in. Imagine what could happen if you give up now. Many leaves, one tree. Now climb your tree. *Ever seen Epic? What did you think? What's your team like? Share your adventures in the comments below!* I recently watched the new Grinch (by Illumination Pictures) with my family. While I haven't seen either of the other two, this version of the familiar story quickly became a keeper for our Christmas movie collection. Likely everyone here knows the general basis of the story. A furry green monster called the Grinch hates Christmas because of the years he's spent the holiday by himself. He comes up with an elaborate scheme to quote, "steal Christmas," unquote. And it works. Or does it? Because even as he stalks away with all their presents, all their trees, all their lights, the Whos are still singing. And when the Grinch closes his eyes and listens (thanks to some advice from a little girl who believed he was Santa Claus), he realizes what he's been missing. He returns the gifts, much to the Whos' astonishment, and retreats to his cave. But Cindy Lou still shows up to invite him to her family's Christmas dinner--despite all that he did. It's there, over the Christmas dinner, in the final minute of the movie, that the Grinch finishes a rhyme equally as applicable to writers as to the Whos. He raises his glass and leads the Whos in a toast. "To kindness and love, the things we need most." And he's right. We could argue that it's an incomplete list--after all, where's Jesus. But, God is love, after all. Christmas is hectic. Christmas in 2020 is even more hectic. And if you're like me, the urge to write doesn't go away because it's Christmas. We're juggling family, decorations, gift shopping, school events, fundraisers, and finishing our novels like items in Max's precariously packed little wagon. Those are all good things. Fantastic things. It's part of what makes this season special. But I've learned to relax between those spectacular traditions and to just enjoy those moments. But whatever we're doing, kindness and love are what we need most. What good is it if I've finished my novel, but not taken time for my family this season? If I didn't have time to brighten someone's day at work? If my book is full of twists and turns, but its heart is two sizes too small? If it has nothing to share with the rest of the world? This is why we're here, doing this, writing. We're the drop of kindness that turns a mean one into a Mr. Grinch. We're the song of love that makes others close their eyes and listen. Or rather, God's kindness and love through us is. Even as the Grinch leaves Whoville with his sleigh piled high with the Whos' Christmas, Cindy's mother, Donna comforts her daughter who fears the missing Christmas is her fault. "He didn't steal Christmas," she says. "He just stole stuff. Christmas is in here." She lays a hand over her heart. The same is true of us. We know what Christmas is really about--Love that came into a world of Grinchs. Worse than Grinchs, actually. Who would die for them. Who would rise for them. For us. Kindness and love. Christmas is inside us. And nothing can steal it from us. Not 2020. Not a Grinch with elaborate inventions. So this Christmas, let's listen with our hearts and refuse to keep silent. To kindness and love, the things we need most! *Which version of The Grinch is your favorite? Original, live action, or remake? How are you sharing kindness and love this Christmas season? Share your adventures in the comments below! Alright, so it has nothing to do with writing, but if you can't post puppy graphics around Christmas, when can you post them? Alright, so I have a writing one, too.
*cue dramatic foot-stomping* Don't judge me--but I only recently saw The Greatest Showman. I don't usually like musicals (I SAID don't judge me), but I really enjoyed the plot, characters, and yes, the music to this one. A secret I'm pretty sure you didn't know about me--I love to analyze books and movies. (Shocking, isn't it? I never would have guessed . . .) And as I thought through The Greatest Showman, I realized the whole movie is about joy. Chasing happiness. Making others happy. Finding happiness yourself. If you've chosen to be a writer (or any host of other careers), chances are you've chosen it because you love it. Because you can't not do it. Because it stirs something in you that no other career does. Because it's your passion. But there come days when we don't love writing. Where scenes are messy and drafts are rough (even rougher than usual). Where editing has us pulling out our hair. And let's not even talk about marketing! Sometimes writing just isn't the greatest show. The Greatest Showman offered a lot of answers to the question, "How do you find true joy?" Barnum thought when he made it all and proved himself to society and his family, he would have joy. (Spoiler alert: it didn't.) Charity (and Jenny, technically) thought who they loved would fulfill them and make them happy. (Spoiler alert: it didn't.) Philip and Anne thought the safe and familiar and comfortable would keep them happy. (Guess what? It didn't.) It was Philip who got it first, I think. He saw those circus performers who refused to let anyone else define them. They chose to be themselves--and give others a smile while they were at it. And when Philip took risks, and opened up, and threw all of himself into the show and loving Anne, no matter what anyone thought, he was truly happy. No matter what happened. Writing isn't about making it. It's not about proving ourselves to whoever. It's not about earning approval and a good deal of money on the side. It's not safe and comfy and familiar. We're here to serve others. Maybe to take a few risks. To push a few boundaries of what's considered comfy. To put on the greatest show for more than a few hours. To put a million dreams into words that will last forever. To bring the world a lasting smile. Because we know what The Greatest Showman didn't. That true joy comes from the One Who writes our story. The Author we get to introduce the world to through our stories, however that may look. That's what keeps us writing. That's what makes us love what we do. That's what makes the show go on. And that truly is the noblest art. *Have you seen The Greatest Showman? What did you think of it? Did it teach you anything? Share your adventures in the comments below! Have you ever seen the movie Turbo? About a snail that races in the Indy 500? It’s one of those fun family films that you can just sit down, enjoy, and laugh about together. But, like the best of fun family films, Turbo isn’t all fun and games. From the first scene, this movie moves towards a message—How do you follow your dreams when it seems impossible? Because Theo (Turbo) has big dreams. He wants to race. But he also has a problem. He’s a snail. Even when an encounter involving a street race and nitrous oxide give him super speed, Theo still keeps running into problems between him and his dream. How do you race after your dream . . . When no one supports you? When you’re too small? When your dream is too big? Let’s face it. We’re dreamers. It’s in us as much as racing was in Theo. We dream big, and we don’t stop there. We chase our dreams. And run into much the same problems Theo did. What does a racing snail teach us about those big, impossible dreams? Buckle in, start your engines, and prepare for me to over-analyze an animated film. Theo didn’t make it to the Indy 500 by himself. Even though he had unique abilities, he still needed help. So do we. Family. Theo’s brother, Chet, doesn’t seem to be Theo’s greatest supporter at first. He’s constantly worried that Theo will fall prey to crows, tetanus, or worst of all, salt. He wants to protect Theo from getting hurt—which makes him angry when Theo takes risks. I honestly never considered that some writers’ parents didn’t support their career. My family does in so many amazing ways, and I can’t remember a time that they haven’t. So it breaks my heart when I see students in my writing community talk about the lack of support from those most important to them. Whether your family supports your dream or not, remember they love you and want to protect you. Keep them in your loop, even if it means you have to educate them sometimes about how this dream of yours works. Share your goals with them. Let them see how passionate you are. Like Chet, they may just end up being the ones that cheer the loudest as you cross the finish line. Racers. Theo found help in the snail crew of Starlight Plaza. While the racing crew didn’t have the same abilities as Theo, and raced in very different ways, they still got him where he needed to be, whether that was convincing those humans to drive them to Indy or saving Theo from an unfortunate racing name like Fasty. (Humans! What do they know?) Find people who are in the same “race” as you, ones who are passionate and chasing the same dreams you are, even if they race in very different ways than you do. Friends. This doesn’t just mean you hang out only with people interested in the same stuff you are. In fact, most of Theo’s friends (and biggest supporters, I mean, it takes money to get to Indy) weren’t racers. They were mechanics, hobby store owners, nail salon owners, and taco truck drivers. But they believed in Theo, invested in him, and stuck with him. Remember that your biggest supporters may not share your dream—but they will help you reach it. After Theo runs a disorienting thirty laps in the race, he arrives at the pit stop dead last, disillusioned, and disappointed. The cars are much more powerful and the track so much larger than he’d imagined. Fellow snail Whiplash smacks him upside the eyes (what are friends for?). “Are you a car?” he shouts. “No,” Theo replies. “Are. You. A. Car?” Whiplash shouts louder. “No!” Theo yells back. “Then stop driving like one!” Stop driving like one. With that bit of shall we call it encouragement, Theo zips off back into the race. He soon discovers that as a speeding snail, he can do things those powerful cars can’t—like zoom under other cars, ride sideways on the wall, or even hide out in a car’s hubcap to avoid being crushed. No matter what our dream is, there will be other people in that race we admire—cars, if you will. And we’ll be disappointed when we discover they can do things that we just can’t. But you just be you. Maybe you can’t do what they can. But you weren’t made to. You were made to do things that only you can do in a way that only you can. You can do things that they can’t. No one can tell your story quite the way you can. Find what you do well and roll with it. You’re not a car. Stop driving like one. (For more on this topic and more over-analysis of a Dreamworks movie, check out this blog post: https://racheljleitch.weebly.com/adventure-journal/its-all-you) As the taco truck full of misfit racing crew pulls into Indianapolis, Theo joins Chet at the window. As usual, Chet is worried for his little brother and doesn’t mind saying so. “Theo,” he wonders, “what if you wake up tomorrow and all your powers are gone? What then?” Theo watches the Welcome to Indianapolis sign slide past. “Well,” he states matter-of-factly, “then I’d better make the most of today.” We can’t really count on anything. Things change. The best we can do is use the day, the hour, the minute we’ve got. Figure out what it will take for you to reach your goals. And then race after it with all your heart. “He hath made every thing beautiful in His time: also He hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11) *Have you ever seen Turbo? What did you think of it? What are your dreams? Who’s your crew? How will you meet your dreams? Share your adventures in the comments! In other news . . . it's ProseWorthy's birthday! (Or it was a couple weeks ago on the 16th.) Two years of doing this crazy thing called a website. So I left you a graphic below. In all seriousness, thank you all for not unsubscribing (*grins*) and for tuning in for my randomness every month. Your support really does mean a lot both to me and to my writing. Here's to many more months of literary ramblings! "Stop being all of you." That line comes from How to Train Your Dragon, a movie I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time last month. The movie centers around a teenage Viking named Hiccup (don't look at me, I didn't name him) who desperately wants to kill a dragon to please his father. The only problem is, Hiccup's not really wired for dragon killing. He's more wired for building dragon snares that never work and getting into scrapes that his father then has to pull him out of. After one such mishap with a dragon snare, his mentor and employer looks at him in a rare moment of exasperation. "If you ever want to get out there and fight dragons, then you'll have to stop all this." "You just pointed to all of me," Hiccup points out. "That's it. Stop being all of you." Hiccup laughs it off. But when his next attempt to fell a dragon results in burning down several buildings, losing the village's food supply to the dragons, and a major scolding from dad, his mentor changes his tune. "The point is, you've got to stop trying to be someone you're not." Hiccup stares at him in complete bewilderment. But as the movie goes on, he discovers he's wired for something else--dragon training. As in training dragons. Literally. I won't ruin the whole movie for you, but he never would have discovered that ability had he kept pretending he was a dragon killer.
Like just about any other book or movie I come in contact with, it got me thinking. Sometimes, writing or otherwise, there's a lot of pressure to not be all of us. Maybe we don't write in a genre that's super popular right now. Maybe our stories are very different from even the stories we love to read. Maybe the themes we write about aren't ones people seem to want to hear or even care about. Wouldn't it be so much easier to just switch genres? Write what's selling right now? Write what people want to hear? I vividly remember the keynote session from the second writing conference I ever attended (when I had slightly more of a clue as to what I was doing . . . I at least knew what genre I liked writing). The title of the session was "If John Had Not Written." The speaker donned a shawl (at least, it looked like a shawl, not sure what they called those in the apostle John's time) and acted the role of the apostle John. His fictitious version of John was looking at all the other Gospels that had been written--Matthew, Mark, Luke. "What do I have to give?" he wondered. "Hasn't it all been written before? What's the use?" The speaker removed the shawl for a moment. "If John had not written," he pointed out, "we would have never known about the wedding in Cana, the raising of Lazarus, or Jesus' prayer for his disciples." Think about how much we would have missed! The speaker continued, "What is the world going to miss if you don't write your story?" What is the world going to miss if you don't write your story? If you don't be all of you? Because in one way or another, we are all given a message to share. It's our choice whether we will be ourselves--all of ourselves. But to change would be to not be all of me. All of who God wired me to be. I mean, think about it. If every letter in the alphabet were exactly the same, we wouldn't have words, or sentences, or stories. There is a perfect spot for all of you. That's because you were designed to fit a perfect spot, and a perfect spot was designed to fit you. Even if it feels like you're just building dragon snare after dragon snare with no progress. There is a dragon out there that is yours, and only yours, to train. So go be all of you. Don't hold back. And go train your dragon. *What's a dragon you're trying to train right now? (Metaphorically speaking, of course, although if you have a real one, I would very much like to know.) What have you been wired for? Share your adventures in the comments!* We watch a lot of Narnia in my house. A lot. Of Narnia. Confession here? I’m not as good a literary person as you may think—I never read the books. But I watch the movies and enjoy them, if nothing else for the battle scenes. We recently (again) watched Prince Caspian (just because it really is a wonderful movie to see). My favorite quote comes about ten minutes from the end of the movie. Finally, the true ruler of Narnia, the noble lion Aslan, returns, and the Narnian leaders—Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Caspian—cross the ford to bow at his feet. Aslan replies, “Arise, kings and queens of Narnia.” So Peter, Edmund, and Susan stand, leaving only Caspian still on his knees. Aslan continues, “All of you.” Caspian glances up, then lowers his eyes again. “I do not think I am ready.” “It is for that very reason I know you are.” And so Caspian rises. In the movie, Caspian was the wrong everything. The wrong nationality, the wrong age, from the wrong family, in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, he was so “wrong” that even the Narnian rulers saw him as inferior. This led him to make some bad and sometimes stupid decisions. As long as he tried to be ready all on his own, his problems just twisted deeper. But, when he finally gave up and did what he should have done first—relied on Aslan for help—he was as right and ready as he could ever be. When the Narnians saw him as inferior, Aslan saw him as the king he could be if he’d just ask for help. “I do not think I am ready.” “It is for that very reason I know you are.” Sometimes we feel more wrong than ready. Things pan out for a lot more than we've bargained for. Someone is always waiting to crack down on your message or declare you wrong for the publishing world, or whatever world you're in right now. But as long as our words and imagination are surrendered to the true Ruler of the world—I'm as ready as I could ever be. And so are you. What do people say you’re wrong for? Surrender it to the Real King. And prepare to take your throne. Enough of this. Now for some book-loving humor.
Roll your eyes if you wish, but I just recently saw the Dolphin Tale movies with my siblings. One scene in the second movie really stood out to me in particular (and I’ll explain why later).
By the sequel, Sawyer Nelson, the main character, is not quite the same kid he was in the first one. Oh, sure, he still fumbles his words (or has trouble stringing them together in the first place). And he’d still rather hang out alone in his basement workshop or with his dolphin buddy, Winter. But he’s learned to get outside those boundaries, especially when teaching others about dolphins. And his friends and family aren’t the only people who have noticed. Take that professor from Boston University, for instance—you know, the one who wants to send him on an all-expenses-paid semester to study marine biology. All his family and friends tell Sawyer it’s a fantastic opportunity, and it is. And he’s excited. But he’s just not sure. I mean, it’s a big commitment. With other people and all. And his dolphin pal, Winter, has been acting strange lately. He’s just not sure he can leave her for three months. To make matters worse, his family throws him a surprise going-away party (much to Sawyer’s chagrin)—when he hasn’t even decided to leave yet! He escapes the restaurant for a few moments by himself on a bench overlooking the ocean. He’s not alone for long (figures). Cameron McCarthy, a doctor who partnered with him on projects with Winter, follows him and hands over a gift he bought him. The gift is an antique pocket watch that belonged to Dr. McCarthy’s great-grandfather somebody (sorry, I forget). Only one thing—the watch is rather obviously broken. Sawyer waits for an explanation, but when none is forthcoming, he thanks him. After all, he doesn’t want to hurt the eccentric guy’s feelings. But then Dr. McCarthy tells him to hit the watch. With more than one glance of confusion, Sawyer goes ahead and hits the pocket watch. It springs to life and ticks off several seconds before freezing. Sawyer hits it again. It ticks off a couple more seconds. By now, Sawyer is completely confused (and probably feels more than a little dumb sitting there hitting a pocket watch) and once again looks to Dr. McCarthy for explanation. The doctor explains that the watch sat in that beautiful jeweler’s box so long it stopped working. He goes on, “You have to shake it up every now and then to get it moving forward. It’s a big world, Sawyer. Too many opportunities to spend life in a box. No matter how nice the box may be.” Whether that meant a semester in Boston or navigating the new challenges with Winter. He’s right, you know. We real people do the same thing. When we find a good thing, we stay in that box so long, never daring to take the chances God means for us to take, that we just stop working. Recently, I’ve been looking for a full-time job, now that I’m out of school. Go figure, no opportunities came around until one week when suddenly two different businesses wanted me. I had to give an answer within four days. The job that was available at the time was right up my alley—a job as a paraprofessional teaching kindergarten through third grade reading. It was a fantastic opportunity, and I was excited. But I just wasn’t sure. What about my siblings? How would this new job affect them? How would it affect me? Would I be able to handle all my responsibilities? What if I wasn’t qualified enough? What if people didn’t like my decision? What if I gave up something good and the new thing was a mistake? I pulled my watch out of the box and set it on a shelf far away from it. I completed the application. I passed my paraprofessional exam. I gave my notice at my part time job. And I completed my first week at the new job. It wasn't the same as the box. It took some getting used to. But taking a chance that God has given me is a pretty good place to be. What’s something in your writing world that is trying to push you out of your box? Maybe being outside that box is just where God means you to be. |
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Hi, I'm Rachel! I'm the author of the posts here at ProseWorthy. Thanks for stopping by! Archives
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