Since the recent proclamation - namely that I was going to put White Rose aside for a while and concentrate on other writing projects - I have done nothing but White Rose. Funny how that works, isn't it?
It has seemed like every time I've wanted to pick up The Generation and finally get Joanie and Sid to understand that their vastly differing opinions on the peace process in Israel mask common goals and aims... Or when I've decided I must finish the rewrite of Hansi and Frog, at least to the point where the very-Bavarian "Hansi" and the very-Texan "Frog" find their footing as they stumble into friendship... Or as I've re-thought and re-puzzled the Butterfly Lace events in Brussels that first summer so long ago...
...Every time, I've had to put the newly-revived manuscript aside and go back to one thing or the other associated with the White Rose. Not exactly how I planned to spend my summer!
But yesterday it hit me that all this work is incredibly intertwined, connected, the fruit of the same tree. These works of fiction are informed by the same worldview that drives the White Rose work. Simply stated, it's a desire to contribute somehow with might of pen over might of sword to tikkun olam, repairing the world. [Although I will admit that the fiction is easier to enjoy while writing, because even when strongly based on real life, e.g. Hansi and Frog, I don't have to stick to absolute fact, as is the case with White Rose work.]
I realized this yesterday as several things came into focus all at once. These concepts and notions had been simmering on a back burner at least for several months, if not several years. But a late-night conversation provided a Eureka moment for me. Let me see if I can explain.
Hansi and Frog is an important story for me to tell, because it chronicles the evolution of a friendship that nourished me for a lifetime, a friendship that nearly was stillborn because of difference in religion. That friendship still provides sustenance, although the basis for the fictional Hansi character died in 2003.
The Generation speaks to me because - sitting here in the U.S., far away from debates over settlements and Hamas rockets launched into homes and playgrounds - it forces me to think about people who live in Israel and work for peace on a daily basis. Different people, different approaches to diplomacy and the efforts required to end the violence. Once again, common goals.
Butterfly Lace takes me back to that very first trip to Germany via Brussels, when I was exposed to markedly different ways of doing things than I had known before. Not only were my experiences mindboggling (for me!), but then for 25 of us to sit in a hotel room singing "Take me ho-ome, Pom Air, to the place I belong" [TM Not-John-Denver], talking about our collective mindboggling experiences...
And how we all had come to the shocking realization that despite the illusion-shattering differences, our humanity bound us 25 as well as the people we had come to know over that summer together. Despite the illusion-shattering differences, or perhaps because of them?
Elements of these fictional narratives exist within the structure of the nonfictional White Rose account. Wildly divergent viewpoints merged within that group of friends around a common theme, specifically that of bringing an end to a criminal regime that was systematically destroying their country. Religion could have divided them, kept them from working together towards this common cause, could have irreparably splintered them before they penned the first leaflet. Differences in perception, in education, in experience, in expectations could have prevented the friends from unifying in an almost-quixotic battle against a mass murderer.
Driving home at 2:30 in the morning after this refreshingly honest conversation, I understood (maybe for the first time ever) that not only have my life experiences figured into the reasons I write about the White Rose, but the White Rose work has also affected how I approach and deal with past events. And why.
This personal-private-business-historical-philosophical discussion opened a thousand locked windows into the Whys of my life and work. Why the theme of difference <=> common cause <=> unity recurs, regardless of how expressed. Why "cultural diplomacy" and political activism are not mutually exclusive in my worldview. Why I shun orthodoxies in favor of faith that seeks to "do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God." Why I always have time for people who are not afraid of truth, and have little patience with those who put on airs. Why late-night conversations like this one will stick with me for the next twenty years, while I will forget Letterman's Top Ten from one day to the next.
Still sifting, still thinking. The Nigerian proverb says you hold a true friend with both your hands. I guess that means that the words of a true friend are held in the heart, not the hands.
The funny thing about this? Driving home last night, all at once - my own private "Mozart moment"! - Joanie and Sid found their work with Jewish National Fund and Rabbis for Human Rights on a collision course and were forced to come to terms with ethics versus politics. Hansi and Frog wandered back to Bad Heilbrunn the long way, with Frog finally comprehending that Hansi's silences were rarely anger. And the fictional "me" in Brussels heard Greece and Spain and Italy and Germany erupt into a raucous dance in that half-star Belgian hotel. Accompanied by John Denver, of course.
Now if only I could write all three books at once, as well as keep up with White Rose work!
Reference to Mozart Moment: In educational psychology, we learned that Mozart famously said that when he began composing a new symphony, he "heard" the entire piece in a split second and then had to set about the work of putting that split second down on paper. That is how I felt last night, driving the Hollywood Freeway at 2:30 a.m. It was such a glorious moment, I even missed my exit... The price of genius. Ha! - RHS.
Showing posts with label Hansi and Frog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hansi and Frog. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Taking Inventory
While Holocaust education will likely always be a piece of the patchwork quilt that is my life, California's sunshine has reminded me that I long to leave life-affirming literature as my legacy. True stories of heroism during those dark days qualify.
But it's not enough.
I've recently started taking inventory of the "other" stories mulling around my psyche. Characters I have enjoyed 'interacting with' as they grow and develop, as plot lines gel and dialog becomes audible. I had been so immersed in research that I had almost forgotten how stimulating the creative process can be.
By the end of this week, I should have chosen one of the works-in-progress below as primary project.
Joanie and Sid. I keep returning to this concept due to the continued and continuing unrest in the Middle East. It's my only sci-fi work-in-progress. The science fiction angle defuses the more sensitive aspects of the plot, permitting Gu-Shalom (peace now) arguments to be viewed from a detached perspective.
The protagonists explore the complexities of war and peace from the POV of high school seniors ~ knowledgeable enough to debate rationally, but idealistic enough to debate passionately. I love this story because it combines the unanswerable questions of the Shoah with the political aftermath we are still experiencing in 2009, and underscores how crucial it is to seek peace with reconciliation in order to break the cycle.
Hansi and Frog. My sentimental favorite, as it is based on the life and (Bavarian) hometown of my real-life friend, Hans Forster. Everyone needs a friend like him. This story encourages young adults to persevere in friendship, not to abandon relationships when they get hard, but to hold true friends close.
Every time I return to Hansi and Frog, I smile at sweet memories. But the danger with this story lies in making it too sweet.
Butterfly Lace. My personal version of Canterbury Tales, again based on my own real-life adventure. In reality, 23 of us were stuck in a hotel in Brussels for three days while our bankrupt charter airlines figured out how to get us all back to Texas. I remember the adventures we related to one another as if it were yesterday. The tales are too good and in some cases, absolutely hilarious!
Postcards. Well, I cannot do this one this week, because "the postcards" are in storage. Perhaps I could do background research in anticipation of retrieving them soon. I like the story, yet another one with basis in real life. Years ago, I bought a postcard collection in a small German town. Turned out that the postcards traced the courtship of a young couple from 1905 to around 1915, from his romantic notes to her as he was stationed in Munich, Bayreuth, and even Oostende (Belgium), to postcards from friends addressed to the newlyweds.
On second thought, while this story is fun to work on, "research" is something I'd rather not do right this minute. Later!
But it's not enough.
I've recently started taking inventory of the "other" stories mulling around my psyche. Characters I have enjoyed 'interacting with' as they grow and develop, as plot lines gel and dialog becomes audible. I had been so immersed in research that I had almost forgotten how stimulating the creative process can be.
By the end of this week, I should have chosen one of the works-in-progress below as primary project.
Joanie and Sid. I keep returning to this concept due to the continued and continuing unrest in the Middle East. It's my only sci-fi work-in-progress. The science fiction angle defuses the more sensitive aspects of the plot, permitting Gu-Shalom (peace now) arguments to be viewed from a detached perspective.
The protagonists explore the complexities of war and peace from the POV of high school seniors ~ knowledgeable enough to debate rationally, but idealistic enough to debate passionately. I love this story because it combines the unanswerable questions of the Shoah with the political aftermath we are still experiencing in 2009, and underscores how crucial it is to seek peace with reconciliation in order to break the cycle.
Hansi and Frog. My sentimental favorite, as it is based on the life and (Bavarian) hometown of my real-life friend, Hans Forster. Everyone needs a friend like him. This story encourages young adults to persevere in friendship, not to abandon relationships when they get hard, but to hold true friends close.
Every time I return to Hansi and Frog, I smile at sweet memories. But the danger with this story lies in making it too sweet.
Butterfly Lace. My personal version of Canterbury Tales, again based on my own real-life adventure. In reality, 23 of us were stuck in a hotel in Brussels for three days while our bankrupt charter airlines figured out how to get us all back to Texas. I remember the adventures we related to one another as if it were yesterday. The tales are too good and in some cases, absolutely hilarious!
Postcards. Well, I cannot do this one this week, because "the postcards" are in storage. Perhaps I could do background research in anticipation of retrieving them soon. I like the story, yet another one with basis in real life. Years ago, I bought a postcard collection in a small German town. Turned out that the postcards traced the courtship of a young couple from 1905 to around 1915, from his romantic notes to her as he was stationed in Munich, Bayreuth, and even Oostende (Belgium), to postcards from friends addressed to the newlyweds.
On second thought, while this story is fun to work on, "research" is something I'd rather not do right this minute. Later!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
History: January through December 2003
December 31, 2003
It's hard to remember on days like these that somewhere tulip bulbs lie dormant, expectantly awaiting warm spring mornings. Or that our mulberry tree will ever have leaves. Everything looks like death, yet hopes of new life. Difficult year...
It's hard to remember on days like these that somewhere tulip bulbs lie dormant, expectantly awaiting warm spring mornings. Or that our mulberry tree will ever have leaves. Everything looks like death, yet hopes of new life. Difficult year...
In addition to our own health issues, our family lost a dear friend in August. Dr. Johann Forster ~ Hansi to me and Denise ~ died tragically on August 4. He was only 46. His encouragement, both emotional and tangible, in the White Rose work had kept us going through some discouraging days.
Besides his encouragement with White Rose work, he also inspired me to pen the Hansi and Frog series. His superior intelligence and remarkable wit contributed more "material" to these books than I could ever use!
2003 was also a time when we learned how closely mental, physical, and intellectual health are related. When one goes, the others are hard put to stay intact. It's nearly impossible to work well when you're not.
April 4, 2003
A week to play catch-up and not much else. Loads of emails to answer. Very tired. Hard to get motivated.
A week to play catch-up and not much else. Loads of emails to answer. Very tired. Hard to get motivated.
March 14, 2003
We're trying to get our History Project moving. Goal is to do for other projects what has been done for the White Rose. A ton of submissions that require all of us reviewing and discussing and trying to decipher what we know enough about to tackle. It's painful telling someone we can't accept their work, especially when it's something that is in fact interesting.
We're trying to get our History Project moving. Goal is to do for other projects what has been done for the White Rose. A ton of submissions that require all of us reviewing and discussing and trying to decipher what we know enough about to tackle. It's painful telling someone we can't accept their work, especially when it's something that is in fact interesting.
March 7, 2003
Yea! Sometimes I can just get on a roll and write like I'm talking to someone face to face. Inspiration seems to come easy during weeks like this!
Not only completed the essay for the Dreyfus conference, but submitted a market-article to Children's Writer newsletter about religious markets for children's writers. It was one of the hardest ones to research ~ funny how editors for multi-cultural books seem to thrive on their work, but editors of children's religious books seem constantly constipated.
Both are done, out the door, finished, filed away. What a lovely feeling.
February 28, 2003
I have to finish the Dreyfus Conference speech. I love the material, it's just hard juggling everything.
February 21, 2003
The big snow! In many ways, it felt like a "reward" for all our hard work of the last couple months, and especially the last few weeks. Everything was quiet, peaceful, and when it stopped, there was laughter on the street as people worked together to move all the white stuff. Funny how difficult situations can bring out the very best in people!
Yea! Sometimes I can just get on a roll and write like I'm talking to someone face to face. Inspiration seems to come easy during weeks like this!
Not only completed the essay for the Dreyfus conference, but submitted a market-article to Children's Writer newsletter about religious markets for children's writers. It was one of the hardest ones to research ~ funny how editors for multi-cultural books seem to thrive on their work, but editors of children's religious books seem constantly constipated.
Both are done, out the door, finished, filed away. What a lovely feeling.
February 28, 2003
I have to finish the Dreyfus Conference speech. I love the material, it's just hard juggling everything.
February 21, 2003
The big snow! In many ways, it felt like a "reward" for all our hard work of the last couple months, and especially the last few weeks. Everything was quiet, peaceful, and when it stopped, there was laughter on the street as people worked together to move all the white stuff. Funny how difficult situations can bring out the very best in people!
June and California
I hate to say this and possibly offend truly-good friends made in Utah. But I will say it anyway and trust that they know my heart well enough: I am so happy to be out of that state, living and working in California.
The last two years now feel like a void in my life. Almost everything about Utah is harsh. Climate, high altitude, theocracy that poses as state government... add in lack of trees, lawns, shrubs, and flowers in most neighborhoods (including ours), and little of Utah cheers the soul or provides solace when a body hits the inevitable bump in the road.
No pretenses about California. Even with the overwhelming beauty of this place, with flowers peeking out of nooks and crannies, and waves crashing on pristine beaches, I know it is not paradise. Traffic, high rent, crime, state government on the verge of bankruptcy, these too are California. Even were I to strike it rich, landing somehow on the A-List, it would not make me or my family immune from LA freeways and daily headaches associated with the second largest city in these United States.
And yet I love the sunshine, the roar of the ocean, flowers casually draped on random walls. When the body is warmed and nourished, one's spirit may also revel in the abundance of Nature, an abundance that draws out stories and renews laughter.
My dear Joanie and Sid, abandoned in Utah for lack of breathing room, beckon me once again to tell their story. Last I wrote about them (The Generation), I could not imagine them in love. Here, I cannot imagine them otherwise.
Hansi and Frog, Ursula Grimm, Fritz and Lotte, Butterfly Lace, those other manuscripts buried under Utah's dust, now stand a chance of completion. I can "hear" the stories more clearly. Once again, I know the sound that red makes.
The last two years now feel like a void in my life. Almost everything about Utah is harsh. Climate, high altitude, theocracy that poses as state government... add in lack of trees, lawns, shrubs, and flowers in most neighborhoods (including ours), and little of Utah cheers the soul or provides solace when a body hits the inevitable bump in the road.
No pretenses about California. Even with the overwhelming beauty of this place, with flowers peeking out of nooks and crannies, and waves crashing on pristine beaches, I know it is not paradise. Traffic, high rent, crime, state government on the verge of bankruptcy, these too are California. Even were I to strike it rich, landing somehow on the A-List, it would not make me or my family immune from LA freeways and daily headaches associated with the second largest city in these United States.
And yet I love the sunshine, the roar of the ocean, flowers casually draped on random walls. When the body is warmed and nourished, one's spirit may also revel in the abundance of Nature, an abundance that draws out stories and renews laughter.
My dear Joanie and Sid, abandoned in Utah for lack of breathing room, beckon me once again to tell their story. Last I wrote about them (The Generation), I could not imagine them in love. Here, I cannot imagine them otherwise.
Hansi and Frog, Ursula Grimm, Fritz and Lotte, Butterfly Lace, those other manuscripts buried under Utah's dust, now stand a chance of completion. I can "hear" the stories more clearly. Once again, I know the sound that red makes.
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