Week 8 Growth Mindset

Two of my classes this semester have been pushing me further then ever in how I think about writing, not just creative writing but just writing in general. This class and Latin. With this class, I do not have the time to take my writings to several different people and have them go over and edit it. I have had to rely on myself. Latin has taught me so much about English surprisingly enough. Because of Latin, I now know what passive voice is, and how much I enjoy abusing it.

There are definitely things I still need to push myself on. I shy away from dialogue. I my mind I relate that so something akin to the plague. I need to force myself to sit down in class and comprehend texts, for more then just writing a story, rather than  relying on my classmates or teachers to explain it for me. I also need to push myself to go out and talk to others instead of hiding away in my room and doing homework all day.

This class has defiantly enabled me to feel more comfortable approaching difficult or taboo topics in a friendly way, like cannibalism or sexism. It has also allowed me to gain confidence in my creative side, something that I have always been wary of before. It is also a wonderful class for self-motivation, with out increasing that I may have given up on this class early on.

Hopefully later this semester, I can give myself enough confidence to tackle dialogue! At the same time I hope I can push myself further in other classes, especially those that I am bored in.

WeKnowMemes

Week 8 Reflections

It has been really fascinating to read the stories from all around the world. When choosing my stories, I have been trying to find ones that I have never heard about before in my main readings then familiar ones for my extra credit. The only thing that I have disappointed myself with is that I ended up not reading anything from Africa. Looking at my reading notes, I am not sure if they would be productive for anyone other then myself, and they definitely would not help a person who has not read the stories in question, as they give no hint of the original plot most of the time. The train of thought jumps around and trails off, most of the sentences are riddled with grammatical errors. The good thing is it follows my train of though, and gives me enough to wright new stories. That is what is important after all.

I am very happy with all of my stories bar one. I feel as if my stories reflect me as a writer and me as a person. I believe in very present, emotive, and immersive stories and my writing reflects that. The only one I am disappointed in is A Day in the Life of Gods. Even though it is a good story I think it showcases my weakness in writing. I dread dialogue, and will do everything in my power to avoid writing it. It so happens that that is exactly what I love the most about other peoples stories. So many of my fellow classmates can write dialogue, and they are amazing at it, and it makes me envious of that ability. Conversely, I feel like they end up missing part of the stories because they focus on the dialogue so much that there is not space for descriptions or support. To much dialogue and the story feels superficial.Oh well, maybe I should stop shying away from the dreaded conversation.

Quote by Edger Allen Poe
Quote Fancey

Reading Notes: Tibetan Folk Tales, Part B

How the Rabbit Killed the Lion
Oh, I want to rewrite this on so that there really is a she-devil. So the rabbit reluctantly goes to pay his respects but meets the she-devil on the way. She asks what has him so down and he explains. Then together they plot a way to rid themselves of the lion. The poor lion still drowns but not because he jumped after his own reflection but because he jumped into to the stream to confront the she devil and drowned because he could not swim.

How the Raven Saved the Hunter
No, now I want the bird to live. Perhaps he just injured the bird. And then he found it later and nursed it back to health? Or I could do a story about how the gods took mercy on the bird and changed into human shape. The hunter comes back to bury the bird but instead find the body of a beautiful woman,injured in the same way as the bird. He then nurses her back to health and they eventually marry or he becomes something like a father fig. The bird is wise and beautiful and brings great prosper to the hunter.

The Two Little Cats
How did the cats get found by the Handre in the first place. I propose that he was waiting and one of the cats god injured on the way home. He follow the blood trail and say the cats trying fix the injury. Either he frightened them and they over reacted or he tried to help them and they were terrified of his appearance. It would be interesting if he was perusing them the entire time because he wanted to help them. In this the death of the Handre would be sad because he as not being evil but his frighting appearance doomed him. Maybe the cats are punished because of this misdeed so they no longer can taste salt?

Raven that Saved the Hunter
Birds of America by John Audubon
Wikimedia Commons

Bibliography- Tibetan Folk Tales by Albert Shelton: online source

Storytelling Week 7: Eternal Beauty

Thousands of people come and visit her every year. She is a figure of awe and inspiration across generations. Everyone who has looked upon her face claims that they have seen the face of divinity. She has been here for centuries, no one remembers her past or her name, but legends have sprung up around her. There are tales, about how she must have saved the world, how she tricked the gods, or enchanted men with her beauty, and other such fanciful quests. Despite all this reverence, she is simply a beautiful corpse, there is no life in her lungs, no glimmer of mischief in her eyes, no flush of blood lies in her cheek. All the devotions and prayers in the universe will not change that she is simply a lifeless husk preserved in crystalline tomb. Nor will it change the truth, that all the stories about this nameless beauty are all wrong.

~~~~

Let us call this poor woman Princess Shītǐ. She was the only daughter of a wealthy king. When she was born, Shītǐ was graced with two things. The first being otherworldly beauty. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, her hair was darker then pitch with glimmers of raven within, and her eyes glimmered like liquid silver. She was perfect in every way, except one. Shītǐ was cursed. She had never ending bad luck. She would often be wounded in the most bizarre of circumstances and would narrowly escape death. Though she was quite intelligent she often made foolish mistakes that cost her dearly.

When Shītǐ was old enough, her father decided it was time for her to marry. She was to throw a bouquet of flowers over her shoulders and whoever caught it would be her husband. As she was walking down the path, she saw a young beggar man, called Cáifù, who was blessed by luck. Thinking that his luck may counteract her own dismal one she tossed the flowers over her shoulder at him. After he had caught the flowers, Shītǐ's father came up and asked her why she had chosen a poor urchin rather than a handsome prince. When she told him, he went into a rage and banished her from his presence forever. Distraught, Shītǐ fled to her new husband. They lived for several years in a small hut on the edge of town, just barely avoiding poverty, until her husband left to seek his fortune. Cáifù promised to return just as soon as he had succeeded in guaranteeing them a happy life. With this noble thought in mind, he left Shītǐ there, forgetting that she had no one other than him.

Many years later Cáifù returned, now rich and prosperous. In his travels, he had become wealthy and admired. That once destitute man was an emperor in his own right. But he had returned to his bride too late. Poor Shītǐ, was dying. Her life had drained out of her limbs. Her once lustrous black hair had turned silver with stress and worry. Limbs that had held power, now looked as delicate as the brittle bones of a bird. Her skin no longer glowed with an inner light, instead it was like marble, cold and distant. Shītǐ was still a thing of beauty, even as she lay dying upon her bed, but was a changed beauty from human perfection to something otherworldly. Cáifù rushed to her bedside, frightened for her in her fragility. Either it be by his great luck or her disastrous misfortune or some morbid mix of the two, he had arrived just in time for his wife to take her final breath and depart the plane of men forever.

Distraught, Cáifù took his wife's body back to his palace. He spared no expense in preparing her body. He placed her upon a bed of silks. She lay there resplendent in the finest of fabrics and adored with valuable gems, cleaned and perfected by the midwives. There the body of Shītǐ lays today, encased in transparent crystal for eternity. As for Miserable Cáifù, he went on to be a great ruler. Through his works, his people were able to overcome great battles and famines. His ingenuity brought his people into a new age where they thrived for generations afterward.

But no one remembers this. They only see the enchanting beauty of the woman and her misery. I guess it is true after all, time forgets everyone, it turns great men into memories and forgotten men into heroes.

Sleeping Beauty (Slightly Altered) by Charlie-Bowater
DeviantArt 

Bibliography: Chinese Fairy Book by R. Wilhelm: online source

Authors note: This story is more of "what happens afterword" the changing the original tale. In the original the beggar turned thief finds his wife and they go to his palace together-everything else is pretty much faithful to the original (physical changes aside). Unfortunately, in the original the princess dies anyway, just 18 days later. I decided it would be more tragic if she died in his arms when he had come back for her, not that big of a change. The important thing of my story was the irony. The princess did absolutely noting to earn her 'fame', not in life and certainly not in death. One would think she would be forgotten. Instead, her husband, who did many things that he should be remembered by, was forgotten. On a side not their names do mean something. Cáifù means wealth and Shītǐ means corpse.

Reading Notes: Chinese Fairy Tales, Part B

The Little Hunting Dog
I want it all to be the imagination of  a little  boy who has been grounded and is stuck in his room without any toys. So he sees the insects and imaginings up a war for them to fight. The challenge will be misleading my audience into thinking its an actual battle until the end. I also want it to one of those stories where if you reread it you catch all the hits from the description of the surroundings.
-floor grassy fields of lavender
-light-the sun
- blanket-cave system
-shoes- great rocks
-piles of laundry- mountains
- book- high mesa

Retribution
I would like to see the story from the water carries point of view. Like when he fell down the mountain and the old man left him to die. The vague feeling of movement and becoming a newborn. Then the feeling of growing up, knowing that something was strange about you, almost like you were someone else, or like a memory just out of reach.

Child Playing with Wooden toys
Wikimedia Commons

Bibliography- Chinese Fairy Book by R. Wilhelm: online source

Reading Notes: Chiness Fairy Tales, Part A

The Favorite of Fortune and the Child of Ill Luck
See, I am going to be really cruel here, just because I can. I am going to keep the entire first part of the story, just the way it is. Princess has bad luck-sees the beggar blessed by luck- marries beggar and is shunned by father- beggar goes to seek fortune and then returns to retake his bride. Only in my story- he comes back to find her body instead of her or comes back to find her at her last breath. Utterly heartbroken he takes he and preserves her body and has this elaborate funeral..thousands of years latter the man is forgotten and her body is worshiped as a goddess.  He was favored in life- and she in death.

The Cave of the Beasts
The daughters have to take the place of the wolf and fox as the protectors of the cave because they killed them- Daughters transform in to deities, beautiful and powerful. When the  father comes to take them they can only leave at night or they vanish into morning mist or perspective animals  until the next night. so they grow up somewhat wild.

Lady of the Moon
It would be interesting to look at the world from (Tscang O) the lady of the moon. To see how lonely she must be despite living in a palace make o star dust. Having to be someone who is doomed to forever listen and watch as everything from starstruck lover to crimes of passion happen beneath her rays-. So when the emperor appears he can feel the sadness lingering in the air. He enjoys the beauty but always feels slightly uneasy.

Ember Fox and Demon Wolf by Lady-Vossler
DeviantArt

Bibliography- Chinese Fairy Book by R. Wilhelm: online source 

Reading Notes: Jamaican Anasazi Stories, Part A

Tying Tiger
It would interesting to see a back story to how the tiger got the tree in the first place. Like the gods gave it to him and then told him that as long as he was the only one to eat of it he would live forever. I mean I kind of feel sorry for the tiger. So I would like to give him a redeeming  feature, aside from being idiotic enough to be tied to a tree, maybe the monkey (?) drugged him or something.

Tiger Catching the sheep-Thief
I want the tiger to eat Anansi. So he dresses up as a sheep and everything because Anansi is a horrible person and is tormenting and beating down the local people. Tiger, being the nice person he is, volunteers to do away with the irritant . Instead of helping Anasi to gain a new skill the tiger kills him. Then the tiger goes back to the village and lives the rest of his life in luxury.


Eating Tiger Guts
I feel really bad for the tiger. I want to write a funereal for the poor thing. Make it really elaborate and pretty with thousands of creatures coming to pay tribute to the king of the jungle. Then when they here that Anansi "killed" him thousands of people began to hunt him down. It would start with someone finding the dead tiger at the river side- then continue and increase in angst from there- you know family wailing, friends weeping and such . Until the funeral (will have to research this) in traditional practices, after the funeral they hear about what caused the death and it pretty much creates a mob. Ohh- Poem Tiger Tiger Burning Bright interspersed between scenes.

Tiger at Rest by Antoine-Louis Barye
Wikimedia Commons

Bibliography- Jamaican Anansi Stories by Martha Warren Beckwith: online source 

Storytelling Week 6: In the Footsepts of Gods

In the first breath of the universe, there was nothing but tumultuous seas and vast expanses of thundering skies. In the second breath, there was light and from that light came Izanagi and Izanami. Together, these two entries lived on the light above the rolling seas. They forged a city out of golden sunshine, glistening with liquid life. But, Izanagi and Izanami were lonely. As beautiful as their city was, they were its only inhabitants. Though they had each other there was no life to be found, there were no trees, no flowers, no creatures, to give that place a sense of anything beyond itself.

Izanagi and Izanami often ended up on the edge of their city. Together, they would sit on the bridge that overlooked the rolling seas, longing for something that they had no comprehension of. Then, one day Izanagi took his spear, a long golden pole made of a single ray of sunshine, and dipped it into the seas bellow. He did not know what he was searching for in those untamable seas. Perhaps it was mere curiosity of what lay beneath its waves or maybe he hoped to find some other being to commune with, but he found nothing in those depths. As Izanagi brought the spear back to the heights, Izanami, his beautiful wife wept in despair. Those tears fell and were caught by the shaft of the spear. They rolled along the shaft until they reached the tip, and fell off into the seas. As the tears was captured by the waves they began to harden the waters around it. Land sprouted up from the seas, hard and craggy, untamed and raw.

Izanagi and Izanami were curios about this new construct. It was something wild, so unlike their kingdom in the sky. Though it was dark and foreboding it was calm and inviting. A dream that had been unknown to them until that moment. So together, they went down from the clouds and touched land for the first time. Where ever they walked life began to flourish. Grass sprouted from their footsteps. Their stay hairs became great trees. Every place their hands touched sprouted flowers and wondrous flora. As they spoke beneath the clouds, every breath made birds appear from the heavens, a sigh caused a fish to flicker beneath the waves, and one word made small animals burrow up from the ground. Entire conversations created peaceful animals of awe-inspiring sizes and shapes.

The two lived for many years in this place, until one day Izanagi fell ill and died. Devastated, Izanami wept for her husband for many days. From her tears came rivers, her grief carved valleys and raised mountains across the landscape. Her wailing caused great beasts to appear, mighty and terrifying. They prayed upon the peaceful creatures that had sprang from Izanagi and Izanami joy. Slowly Izanami calmed, but the damage had already been done. No longer was the world a thing of tranquility, it had become a thing of wildness and untameable beauty. Izanami grew tired and lay down next to her husband. As she fell asleep she thought that one thing was missing from this world, something that she and her husband could never have created. She never woke again.

Many years later something shifted. The bones of Izanagi and Izanami were stripped from the last of their flesh by the wandering creatures. From those sun bleached bones emerged humans, a new type of creature bone from the death of their parents but able to bear more of their own from that sacrifice.

Izanagi and Izanami by Kaworukunchan
DeviantArt

Bibliography- The Romance of Old Japan by E.W. Champney and F. Champney: Online Source


Authors Note: My story is very different from the original. In the traditional Japanese Story there is only a bridge on which Izanagi and Izanami live. Really the only think that I kept from the original story was that there was a spear, and a drop from that spear caused land to spring up. Izanagi and Izanami did not cause every thing else, it just happens. I wanted my story to go more into what could have happened. I wanted it to fist: parallel other creation stories but also to stand on its own as a unique story. For me the biggest thing I wanted it to be is that every thing was an accident, and unknown, even to the gods.

Reading Notes: Japaneses Mythology, Part B

Labors of Yamato
So he leaves his wife- a wonderful devoted woman- because he was board, to go find this mermaid- who he has only seen once and is apparently obsessed with. Then he meets this goddess, who he falls instantly in love with, and begs her to let him love her. So she sends him to go retrieve a golden apple as a sign of his devotion. So, he leaves to get the apple, rides on a stork, kills a wild boar, and somehow manages to get sword along the way. Oh and before he got the sword his former wife, the princess he lift, had somehow saved him, by setting herself on fire and running though a field towards him. Dispite this show of loyalty, he still ends up abandoning her for his search for this mysterious mermaid, only he finds her this time. After killing a dragon that was guarding her cave- a dragon who was her father- and then they go to sleep. When he wakes up she is gone along with all of his belongings. He is unable to return to his faithful wife, because he is lost.

I just kinda want to write a story about him from the mermaids perspective as she comments on how gull able he is. Commentary on how much of his life he wasted looking for something unattainable when he already had someone better.

Me, the entire time I as reading about Yamato
Source

Bibliography- The Romance of Old Japan by E.W. Champney and F. Champney: Online Source

Reading Notes: Japanese Mythology, Part A

Izanagi and Izanami
I could write a story about Izanagi and Izanami looking down at the roaring seas form the clouds. Contrasting the simplistic beauty of the sky to the natural power and rawness of the bellow. When the spear came up and brought forth land there was no foliage, only rock, as the two came down from their steps spouted forests.  Kiss of their lips and touching fingers bought forth birds and animals. Their  words made the rivers and clouds. They are not immortal though, simply long lived. Death made mortal men spring from the bones.

The Heaven-Descended
Sudden thought- what would the mind of Princesses Nether-Shining be like. First that she meet this godlike man who chose to wed her. What were those five years like for her? Were they good, prosperous? Then what must she have felt when she walked into their chambers and found him dead? Clearly, she was heartbroken- but for her was it assassination or a sign of the gods? What was the funeral like? Her reaction to later events?

Labors of Yamato
- journeyed far across the untamed land
- overcame unsailable seas with only his own self
- waited for his bride for weeks
- she got taken from him
- dressed up as a female to trick his foes
- seduced the leader of the opposing army
- only to find that his stolen bride had already rescued herself and had left for home

The stolen Princess
by Da Congjun
ArtStation

Bibliography- The Romance of Old Japan by E.W. Champney and F. Champney: Online Source

Wikipedia Trail: From Davey to Cullden

Shaun Davey: 2011
Wikimedia Commons

Shaun Davey  was born in 1949 in Bellfast. He is a composer who specializes in large scale concerts. He has four major works The Brendan Voyage, The Pilgrim, Granuaile, and The Relief of Derry, all of which are based on Irish History. One of his other works May We Never Have to Say Goodbye was played at the opening ceremony for the special Olympics world summer games in 2003. He helped compose the soundtrack for the movie The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It should also be The Deer's Cry, was played during the Inauguration of the Irish president. Davy is important in the musical world because he was the first composer to incorporate native instruments, like the bagpipes into his compositions and orchestra.
noted that his one of his works

One of Davey's most popular compositions, the Relief of Derry Symphony, was based of a real historic event, the Siege of Derry. This siege was the first major event in the Willimate War.  The Siege began in April 1689 and ended July 30 of the same year. Derry was targeted because of its clear allegiance against the, then current, king of England. By the time the siege was over many of the people inside the walls were starving to death. Some were hallucinating, a scene that is captured in Davey's 4th movement, as a woman sings about the sights from the eyes of the soldiers. By the time the siege broke over 4,000 people had died within the walls.

The Williamite War as a conflict between the Jacobites and the Willimates, or those that supported a Catholic King (James II) or a Protestant King ( William of Orange, and current King) for the monarchy of England, and thus Scotland and Ireland. This war is what finally confirmed British Protestant rule over Ireland. The war lasted from March 12, 1689 to October 3, 1691.

Some of the Jacoites from the Williamite War participated in the Battle of Cullden. This was the final battle of the Jacobite rising in 1745 and took place April 16, 1746. The battle itself took less then and hour, but it ended with over 1,500 Scotts dead and only 50 deaths for the British. The rising itself was  a religious and political civil war between Britain and Scotland, Ireland had some support for Scotland but was severely hindered by the previous war. As a result of the war, much of the highlanders were wiped out and their culture was almost annihilated, such as the banning of traditional highland dress. The Jacobite uprising was the final uprising in the highlands. The defeat at Cullden solidified British rule over Scotland.

To be honest the only reason I started this search is because The Relief of Derry is one of my favorite "songs" to listen to. It is a truly beautiful piece. I felt like informing others about it and the history behind it. There are four movements, but I have only posted the first here. I encourage you to go and listen to the entire composition, it is truly moving.

Reading Notes: Folklore of the Holy Land: Moslem, Christian, and Jewish, Part B

Lot and the Tree of the Cross
Random thought- the tree that sprouted at the foot of Adams grave became the tree that made the closet for Narnia.
Or turn it into the legend of the willow tree- it wept for the sins of man kind.

David
Story of David learning to smith. I think it would be amusing to see how he struggles and becomes frustrated. Maybe he burns himself or strikes his hand with a hammer. Basically a story about how the king is not perfect and makes mistakes. Show that he has to learn like any other man. Perhaps his armor is wonderful at defense but ugly to look at and uncomfortable to wear. I would want it to show that David is a man, divine or all powerful. That he has doubts and quarrels like any other person. Reminder that he came from humble origins not a royal linage.

Elijah and Saint George
No, not the dragon. Okay so what made the dragon so unhappy with the people that he/she decided to essentially kill them all. My mind? The towns people had snuck into the cave where the dragon lived and killed the mate/offspring and infuriated it. Satan came to it while it was morning and convinced he beast to seek revenge. Dragon terrorized them and demanded retribution-in the form of the daughters beloved daughter. Rather then 'Mar Jiryis' killing it the daughter talks to it and consoles it. Or she talks to it and the slayer kills the dragon despite her protest.

Fall of the Dragon by Bayrdwu
DeviantArt

Bibliography-Folk-lore of the Holy Land: Moslem, Christian and Jewish by J. E. Hanauer: online scource

Storytelling Week 5 :The Peasant Goddess

As I stand here over the body of my husband, poor Osiris, with the power of Ra coursing though my veins, I think about how I came to be here. How did a poor, mortal, spell-weaver become the most powerful woman, nay most powerful being aside from Ra, in Egypt?

I suppose it started with my first husband. Before, I had been a wench. The lowly wife of a cruel man. There, I was treated worse then a slave. To him slaves had uses, where as I was little more then a glamours doll, beautiful to look at but not worth anything. I had been sold by my parents at a great price, not for my wit or abilities, but for my otherworldly beauty. There, I was the lowest of that man's many wives, the most beautiful, but the most useless at the same time. So, I ran away. I left his household, and suffered greatly for it. Men approached me, hundreds of them, thinking I was some common whore. When I denied them I was beaten and spat upon.

This continued for many months until a sorceress found me cowering outside the temples. She took me in and taught me her trade. I became powerful, an intricate artist, a commander of the spirits and a master of the physical realm. I changed, no longer was I a cowardly child, easily traded and beaten. Now, I was a woman, assured and proud. My beauty was no longer my damming grace, it was my greatest weapon. Then, as my power grew, I decided that I wanted to be known, I wanted to be remembered. Pointless pride overwhelmed my common sense.  I decided I was going to do what no other being had done. I would be the one to learn the true name of  Ra.

I enchanted a snake, wove it out of spirits, made it so potent that it would stumble even Ra. I sent my pet out as Ra walked among the gardens and it struck him on the calf. The other gods attempted to cure him. For three weeks they toiled against my poison until they called out to the land for a healer. I arrived and they sent me to attend the dying king. There I told him that I could only heal him if I knew his true name. He tried several times to deny me until he gave out and whispered it into my ears. Now I know why no other being knows the name. Certainly, I succeeded in my goal, I was the only other being to know the name of Ra, but I had not understood the cost!

Ra's name is power and whoever wields that name holds the power of Ra. As I heard his name, his power came into me. It burned through my veins like acid, reshaping me into something worthy of it. I became a god born from man, greater then the gods that Ra had formed in his early days recently freed from the black. Almost equal in power to Ra himself. Like him, I could now see into the universe. I could understand the complexities and interconnections of time. Creation lay at my finger tips awaiting my every whim. It was overwhelming and grounding at the same time. I healed Ra, as I had promised. Then, I left Egypt to find myself again in my new understanding.

I returned only when Ra asked. His son Osiris was taking up the throne and Ra was seeking a wife who would be worthy of his son. Someone who could help this naive king control his kingdom. By then, I had already been know. My reputation had proceed me as a wise and fair being. Someone who could take power without being overwhelmed by it. I was someone who would be good to the people she had come from, the poor common rabble. They were correct. After my marriage to Osiris, we became rulers of Egypt. Under us, Egypt thrived, the people were happy, life was good for all who lived by the Nile.

I suppose I got careless. I forgot about my enemies, and those of my husband. One day, while I was out bathing in the Nile, my naive husband fell into a trap from his brother Set. He crawled into a box and was killed then sent away from me. I will not deny being rash. I left Egypt in the hands of my son Horus. He was wise and strong enough to confront his uncle and regain control of Egypt. I went in search of my husband. But Set found the body first. He took it and chopped it into many pieces before throwing them into the Nile. I ignored the war around me, the pleas of my son to help him in his crusade. That may seem cruel, but I knew that he would succeed, just as I knew that Osiris would be needed again and that I had to bring him back.

Here I stand now, having dredged through the Nile for the scattered remains of my husband, before his bound body. Using the gift of Ra, the power of creation, to defy fate and give my husband back his breath.  To bring back to the good to Egypt. As the fire drained from my veins, Osiris breathed again.

Isis: Mother of Horus by Inna-Vjuzhannia
DiviantArt

Author's Note: To begin, I will say that my tale is a very different one then the original Egyptian version. I took several difference stories and kind of patched them together. There is a story about a sorceress named Iris tricking Ra into telling her his true name, but she does not become a goddess. Also, Iris is Osiris wife, but she was not originally a human, and she does go sort of crazy trying to find his body. Twice in fact, once when it was in a coffin, and another time after it was torn apart and thrown into the Nile. But she does help her son face Set, unlike in my tale. Even in the original story Isis is a very powerful woman, she rules over Egypt while Osiris travels and she does help bring Osiris back to life after he was killed with the help of Ra. My main goal was to combine the two stories and keep Isis a a powerful woman. I wanted to show that she is a incredible woman. I wanted a mythology story where the female was the hero, rather then the blame.

Bibliography-Egyptian Myth and Legend by Donald Mackenzie, online source

Reading Notes: Egyptian Myths and Stories, Part B

I did not read any story that jumped out to me.

The first set of stories was about two brothers Anpu and Bata. Anpu's wife tries to seduce Bata, and following a similar story in Genesis, he dismisses her and she sends her husband after him. They fight and make up. Bata then later puts his soul into a blossom of a ceder tree. The Gods feel bad for Bata so they make him a wife , who is stolen by the pharaoh, who also cuts down the ceder tree killing Bata. Anpu searches for Bata's soul, finds it many years later and resurrects him. Bata becomes a bull to see his wife but ends up sacrificed, he than turns into a tree, which is cut down and turned into furniture. Once again he is reborn, this time a crown price, by impregnating his former wife viva a splinter. 

The second story was about the book of Thoth and all the misery it brings people despite the knowledge it contains. Usually the slaying of the thief's entire family. The final person who stole it brings it back before retribution is given. 

Bibliography-Egyptian Myth and Legend by Donald Mackenzie, online source

The Scribe Thoth by Hbruton
DeviantArt

Reading Notes: Ancient Egyptian Myths and Stories, Part A

Creation
Why did Ra take the form of man kind? Can I form a story about how he meet mankind and they fascinated him. That they were so weak an helpless but at the same time strong and clever. He was inspired by their creativity that he wanted to be among them. What could his form have been before this, aside from light?

The Secret Name of Ra
Why is there power in a name? What story could I make that explains why the power of a God is hidden in his "true name"? Is it only the all powerful gods, like Ra, Khepera, Tum and Nu or is it all the gods, all people? Or can I combine this with the previous one and say it hides the true form of Ra, by changing his body he has changed his name? Did Isis become a Goddess because she knew the name of Ra?

Death of Osiris
This is why all pharaohs are buried with coffins-to honor Osiris
Isis can call upon Ra because she knows his true name. Its also the reason she is so well loved and honored. People forget that Isis holds the power of Ra, kills with a stare, grants immortality at a whim.

Totally mixing myths here. I want to show a strong independent woman, who is a trickster, but well beloved. Someone who is respected and feared, put her as the power behind the throne

Bibliography-Egyptian Myth and Legend by Donald Mackenzie, online source

Isis from the tomb of of Seti I in the Valley of the Kings
 Wikimedia commons

Reading Notes: Arabian Nights, Part B

Plot twist: make Aladdin a girl who is hardworking and clever. Instead of being taken advantage of she tricks other people into giving/doing things for her. So she recognized the false magician and manipulates him into giving her gifts and treasures.

Instead of being trapped in the cave she gets out easily, without the help of the genie, and is intelligent and brave rather then a coward.

She uses the genies powers to help others and catches the attention of the sultan who asks that she come visit him and his"son".
I am torn between them wooing her into marriage, and she forces them to do many great deeds or them rape her because of her beauty and revenge.

Think I will go on the wooing route, where they have to bring her many gifts within a certain period of time: 40 basins of gold and jewels, with 80 well dressed slaves. Essentially she makes them give her all their riches with out their knowledge. While doing this she wins over the heart of the people an soldiers, turning them away from the sultan.

The Magician does not come back to steal the lamp because she had paid him retribution for his previous loss, knowing it was a good thing to have him on her side rather then against her and knowing a magician is a good thing to have in ones back pocket.

Basically turn Aladdin into an intelligent girl who knows how to get what she wants. Someone who knows how to watch and learn, a patient huntress who thinks off all the angles before acting.

Bibliography-  Arabian Nights from Arabian Nights Entertainments, Online Reading

Desert Warrior by ravven78
DeviantArt

Feedback Focus: Know Thine self

Straight off, the second strategy, copy and delete, worked the best for me. It felt felt more natural and was easier for me to do compared to the others. The first strategy, while good in theory, actually distracted me more then anything. I ended up focusing more on my cadence and flow then on what I was reading. I do a similar strategy for when I am reading dialogue or a particularly confusing area but not for the entire story. The third strategy was was horrible for me. It felt forced. I read the story, read the author's note, and read the story again. Usually by then I would be taking notes of what I had noticed, liked or disliked, but, perhaps it was me misreading the assignment, I felt like this strategy did not let me do that. I ended up reading the same sentence over and over, and story began to blur and lost all its meaning to me, what I had in mind for commenting slipped away. It was entirely counterproductive.

The second strategy was very similar to what I already do when reading stories. I take notes on paper as I read. I jot down things that jump out to me, questions that occur, or general commentary that comes to mind. The difference is I take notes as I read, with the second strategy I had to wait until the end of the paragraph, not that big of a change. However, deleting the previous paragraph was distracting and goes against my previous patterns, as sometime I would reread previous paragraphs if the current one con, and the action itself drew me out of my focus.
I think I will continue to use my current strategy of writing down thoughts as I read and reading aloud as I need to. Out of the stories I read, I really enjoyed What Makes the Lightning.

Calvin an Hobbes by Bill Watterson
Go Comics

Storytelling Week 4: In Umbra Sanitatis

Warning: Do not read this if you are squeamish or disturbed by dark themes

in·san·i·ty: noun - the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.

How did it come to this?

The people here were nice. They had been kind to him after his ordeals. Strengthened and nourished him after they had found him, weak and emaciated, still trembling from fear. He remained under their kindness for many days, lost in memories of men. Men who were not men, but monsters, of those who feasted upon the flesh of his brothers. He had chosen to say with these people, strangers, who had brought him back from the cusp of the abyss. He had aided them, taught them skills from his homeland, told them stories of his childhood and travels. Now, many months later, he was one of them, brought into this village by a wife. A beauty who was kind and soft. For him this was now home, a place of refuge and comfort from the torments of the world.

This was not how it was meant to be.

He had went to see his friend, who had lost his wife in childbirth. Going to give comfort as was the way of his old people. But his friend was unconscionable, rebuffing his kind words. Confused, he asked why his friend was so morose. In answer, his friend wailed the truth. No married couple went to the grave alone. His friend would be buried with his departed wife, alive. He watched as his friend was lowered into the catacombs alongside the body of his spouse. He watched as seven days worth of rations and many resplendent jewels were lowered down with the doomed man, and he feared for himself. Dread crept up his spine as he watched the village seal the mouth of the cave.

He went home, terrified and on edge, feeling as if death was grasping his shoulders and pulling him towards that forsaken tomb. Several years past, he remained skittish around the village. He could not leave. When he left to hunt people followed him as if they could smell his fear and would not allow him to flee. Everywhere he went someone accompanied him, like some guardian of the dammed. Then the unthinkable happened, his wife caught ill and perished.

What dreadful circumstance

They stood there watching him, waiting for him to break. Then, when he shattered and ran, they caught him. They dragged him terrified, screaming and thrashing, to that living crypt. They held him as he watched his wife be lowered into that chasm; as he watched the jewels and riches poured into that hole, as the food was placed into the crevice. Then they watched as he was placed upon that pallet and lowered into his tomb. Their cold eye followed him as he went bellow that final precipice, until he could see them no more. He watched as their shadows made demons upon the walls, heard as their voices mutated into a psalm for he dammed. He watched as the stone was moved to the mouth of the cavern. Then he was alone with no light to see but a small touch, about to be burned away entirely.

Trapped in the land of the dead.

He did not know how long he had been there. He was out of food and was running low on water. Already, he was more of a wraith then a man. He was a mad man, talking to the shadows. He had entire conversations with the the dead as his captivated audience, but the dead were not supposed to talk back. The smell alone was enough to drive someone to hysteria, the sweet stench of rotting flesh, that sickly fragrant aroma. The darkness was worse. It put visions in his mind, a none existent flicker of firelight, a touch or a wispier of a passing man, a shade from the beyond. He was living, but living as if he were dead.

Suddenly, there was light in his dark world, the rock had been moved from the lip of the crypt. A new death, the next unfortunate soul, was being brought to the cave. Then he smiled. Here was life, sustenance. He waited as the body was lowed. Hid as the gems were deposited. Prowled in the shadows, waiting as the new sacrifice was deposited into his cave. When the stone was once again rolled into place he struck, catching the young woman on the head with a femur. She fell, dazed. Then, he dragged a sharp stone across her neck, killing her. He hesitated, here was meat, warm and fresh. Then, like the wild men who had eaten his brothers before, he descended and ate upon her flesh. As he waited for his next meal, he took the bones and decorated his new kingdom, caught up in his madness. Soon, yet another was lowed into his grasp and yet again he tore into the man.

Never before had insanity tasted so sweet.

Catacombes by Spex84
DeviantArt

Author's Note- There is a lot of this story that I kept true to the original. This story is based off of Sinbad's Fourth Voyage. This if the only voyage where Sinbad had his own ship and this particular voyage caught up in a bad storm and wrecked. Sinbad did actually encounter a tribe of cannibals and was able to escape by starving himself. Then he was rescued by another tribe and married one of their women. As in this story he was buried with the dead body of his wife, as was the custom of the tribe, along side jewels and a weeks worth of food. Similarly, Sinbad did kill the next person to be put down in the hole. However, unlike my story he did not eat her. Also, unlike my version, Sinbad eventually escapes and makes his way home. Whereas mine stays in his 'kingdom'. What I really wanted to show is just how much strain all these event would have put on Sinbad, and write a story where he broke under it. When exactly he broke I will leave up to you. I do apologize for the morbidity but the story ended up writing itself.

Biblography- Voyages of Sindbad by Andrew Lang, Online Reading