for myself: on the fear of revision

How I Learned to Love Revision (even though I still worry over it) by Karen Outen http://www.glimmertrain.com/fmoct08.html

I'll admit it: Revision used to terrify me. When I was a new writer, I mistook revision for something that interfered with the creative process, rather than the only way you get what you want from it. I wasn't alone in that thinking. In my teaching now, I see young writers continue to butt their heads against the idea of revision. Either they mistake real revision for something that fits nicely into a sentence like this: "If I just change this one sentence, then it'll all be fine"; by thinking this way, they fail to take advantage of the opportunity to truly re-envision their stories. Or they think, as I once did, that revision "ruins" the spontaneity of their writing. The general fear of revision is, of course, simply our fear that what we want from our stories cannot be achieved.

Over the years, most of what I've learned about revision, I've learned from someone named David. First, there was the novelist and teacher David Bradley, who gave me permission to write a crappy first draft and then decide what I wanted from it. In David's words: Revision makes it possible to have what you want. Revision is not like writing again. You know what you're doing this time.

I learned my latest lesson in revision, oddly enough, from my engineer friend David. During the fall of 2008, David's son, Tim, enthusiastically volunteered him to build voting booths for Tim's fourth-grade class so that the kids could participate in some way in the historic 2008 presidential election. Tim's teacher envisioned a cardboard booth, a handwritten paper ballot, the basics. But she didn't know David. He took on the task with his customary ingenuity and enthusiasm, and before you know it, those simple voting booths were hooked up to a circuit board that David designed to record and tabulate each child's vote electronically. I haven't seen the voting booth—and David is as modest in describing it as his son is ebullient—so I can only imagine the stunned look on the teacher's face when she saw her simple cardboard booth outfitted with sophisticated electronic capabilities.

I asked David why he'd taken on such a lofty project. He's a busy professor with a young family and tons of other responsibilities. Wasn't this just one more burden for him? No, he assured me, it was fun. The joy of it, he says, was coming up with his design, beginning it, and anticipating what would go wrong. He told me that in any project, once he hits the thing that won't work as he imagined, the question then becomes, how will he get what he wants anyway?

His answer clicked with me immediately, and I said, "That's revision!"

He said, "Yeah. That's what you do when you write, right?"

Well, yes and no. I hardly approach the revision process with that much joy—but why shouldn't I? If I understand that the process really is about learning who your characters are, digging into the heart of the story you've created, and seeing what the story has to teach you beyond your initial expectations, then I must be open to giving over to the unexpected. So why fear revision? I am essentially asking the same questions when I revise that David asked in building his circuit:

What was I thinking when I set out to build this?
Can it work?
Is it working?
Have I discovered something better during the creation process?
In essence, writing—apparently like engineering—requires that we invite the gap between possibility and reality, the possibilities that led us to the stories in the first place and the real world of those stories once they are created. What I discovered from my friend David the engineer is that his creative process allows for failure, for the unknown, for that moment when he feels, "This can't be done." Not only that, but he embraces that moment as one of greatest possibility and discovery. It is the moment that moves him most outside of himself and most truly into the realm of creation.

How often do we approach revision fearing what we'll discover about our stories? What if at the moment when we begin revision, we allow ourselves to dwell most significantly and earnestly in the possibilities of our stories? As I've come to think of it this way, I've found that the moment of revision is in fact the most exciting time. David Bradley's right: You know much more about what you're doing by that time. Your characters have already revealed so much of themselves to you. What you bring to that knowledge then, is the clear-eyed reader, the one who asks the hard questions of each moment and line of dialogue, the one who turns over each gesture looking to see what is unearthed, the one who both embraces the failure of a scene and wards it off by relentless questioning and re-envisioning. The way that we serve our stories best in revision is in that spirit of expectation, wonder, and, yes, enough fear and trembling to invite the unexpected.

悼

當年我二十歲，初戀失敗。面對失去的我慌了手腳，只想拼命抓住些什麼，只是沒察覺自己抓到的都是空洞腐臭的味道。我像是要替早就棄我如敝屣的對方守身一樣，動手把自己身上可以吸引他Ｔ目光的特質，全數清除，開始了我假Ｔ的日子。那時我把家當旅店，因為它的「異」質無法承載我違常愛情的重量。就這樣，我到了住家對面的In Between開始工作到凌晨三點的生活。

老賀說，當時他從門外走進來，看到我的背影，削薄的短髮、大號襯衫與牛仔褲，心裡嘀咕著：「媽的，這男的女的？！」。這是我們的開始，然後十五年後四月初的這一天，他就在睡夢中，離開了。

老賀，我心裡留存著許多與你有關的記憶，因此想為你寫下這些，做為紀念。當然，也為你最親愛的孫姐留下關於你的點點滴滴。

原來...

再讀「愛的自由式」, 又讀到細節：原來當年T吧以「怎麼稱呼」開場是認T的通關密語。難怪當年我明明留著波浪長髮一臉青春小婆樣,還是沒人來搭訕。多年的疑問終於解開了...

關於無感

給學生看了Umberto D。因為影片的主題是關於生命的尊嚴，所以特允他們以文學創作的形式來與這部電影對話，而沒有要求他們一定要從義大利新寫實主義的美學下手。拿到心得，很失望。寫出來的東西，就像是那種日子過得太舒服的人，只會用一種很淺薄的"同情"來看待壓迫之下生活沒有出路、生命沒有出口的掙扎。

我想，他們可能連跟路人發傳單的經驗都沒有，所以他們無法體會當Umberto百般不願地伸出手，卻在陌生人要給錢的剎那將手背翻下，假裝伸手探雨的轉折。我想，他們不曾衣食匱乏，所以感受不到露宿街頭的滄涼。我不知道他們在乎的是什麼，也不知道讓他們感動的是什麼。突然希望自己是小叮噹，可以當下把教室變成充滿不公不義的煉獄。

應該給某些學生讀

記得他越來越有名之後好像比較沒寫這類勵志文字了。應該要給某些too full of himself的學生讀。

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破繭而出 by 林奕華

我是很容易在別人故事面前紅了眼眶的人。包括文學、電影電視。後來我終於明白，那是名叫「觸動」，或者「感懷」的感情—是對某些遭遇感同身受，讓已復原的傷口隱隱作痛起來。

可幸的是，這種「痛」不過是形而上的，極其量只會教淚水涔涔而下，起碼我不是仍在流血。不能抑止地流淚，可以是陽光下的驟雨，滴噠下著的時候還是晴天，好比一切事過情遷，再大苦難都因被挺過去了而令自己益發強壯。是的，最美的一種美，是回過頭看一路走來的自己散發明媚芬芳：一個人可以如此勇敢、堅強。

看《大長今》時，明明知道女主角一定苦盡甘來，然而，當權力鬥爭不是雷一般直接轟在她的頭上，她不過是被牽連的小角色時，我都能像她般感受人微言輕無能為力的切膚之痛：我們總是以為只要不威脅到別人的存在，就能有安身立命之所。殘酷的現實卻清楚說明，這只是軟弱的人以「與世無爭」之名來行使叫自己心安理得的天真。活著，本來就是要活出自我，不管四方八面如何滿布荊棘，一個人還是要靠信念把自己從困境中引領出來。

自我，不是與生俱來的天賦，它必須經過人生的洗煉才能成就。擁有了它，就像一個人不怕飄泊在汪洋大海上，因為他知道哪裡有燈塔—永遠提供光明給自己。奈何人們經常錯把「自我中心」認作了指南針，才會讓過份膨脹的野心（ambition）擋住了更應被看見和實現的視野（vision）。以《大長今》作例子，她讓我由衷感動，是女主角由隨波俗流的廚師宮女逐步成為宮廷第一御醫，過程是崎嶇的，可她的心境十分平坦：她不是為了往上爬，她只是要做好一位醫者。而治理一國之君與為黎民服務的不同之處，是後者無邊無際，前者卻象徵了不自由。

揪團去被輔導?

來自校方的關心...
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親愛的XX人您好：
「開心農場新手阿姿沉浸在「開心農場」遊戲才一個月，卻嚴重到每天清晨六點調鬧鐘開電腦務農，「太晚起床，我的田會變成任人採收的觀光農場。」阿姿說，透過虛擬網路可以播種、澆水除蟲、收成變賣，還可以養雞、牛，買狗看農地，過程比電子雞更有趣，看著自己辛苦耕作的成果堆滿穀倉，在無聊生活中也獲得某種滿足感。由於農場登錄人數暴增，更曾出現「維護升級」的掛點畫面，不少瘋狂網友哀嚎：「沒田種，真的生不如死！」~自由時報，2009/09/06以上的新聞場景讓您感到熟悉嗎？臉書(facebook)、噗浪客(plurk)及魔獸世界是否成為您生活中不可或缺的休閒娛樂，片刻稍離就會覺得心癢難耐，想趕快回家上網打電動？？
　　　　請注意！網路沉迷的現象已快速成為我們不可忽視的新議題，以下是心理學者Young依據DSM-IV中的病態性賭博的診斷標準，列出八項判定是否有網路沉迷現象的指標：

1.我會專注於網路上所進行的活動，並在離線後仍持續想著上網時的情形。
2.我覺得需要花更多的時間在線上才能感到滿足。
3.我曾努力想過要控制或停止使用網路，但並沒有成功。
4.當我企圖減少或停止使用網路時，會覺得沮喪、心情低落或脾氣容易暴躁。
5.我會為了上網而願意承擔重要人際、教育或工作機會損失的風險。
6.我花費在網路上的時間比原先預期的還要長。
7.我曾向家人、朋友或他人說謊以隱瞞我涉入網路的程度。
8.我上網是為了逃避問題，如無助、罪惡感、焦慮或沮喪等。

　這八項問題中，只要有五項以上的答案是「肯定的」，即符合網路沉迷的條件。

看電視的心得

沒有cable的我，用來配飯的是公視新聞+娘家+閃亮的日子+魔女18號。這樣的組合有點精神分裂，但也好玩。

通俗電視劇的觀眾，既非學者也不是哲學家，而是一般老百姓，所此搬演的是芸芸眾生的在普通不過的悲歡離合。若把聽到的，甚至是自己的故事錄下來濃縮成精華版，會發現，原來大部分的人都在演這一齣。

電視劇更不會有什麼了不起的大道理，但那些老生常談的話我們自己卻常常忘記了。閃亮的日子裡的阿婆說，每個人生下來都有自己的功課，我想我的功課是，找到自信。