Years ago, my brother gave me the book The Alchemist for Christmas. Some people criticize it as simplistic, but 65 million people appear to have another opinion.
Within writing circles, it’s often referenced as a classic example of a quest story. It employs archetypal characters, a clearly delineated three act structure, and executes one of my favorite elements for emotional resonance: book-ending. In other words, if you write, even if The Alchemist isn’t your cup of tea as a reader, it’s worth studying.
If that weren’t enough, its author is often spoken of as a blogger extraordinaire — one who knows his core audience and caters to their taste. Since Paulo Coelho‘s posts can hit 31,000 Facebook shares, methinks there’s some truth to that opinion.
Have a peek at his blog, and you can get a sense of why it works for him. Here’s a screenshot capture from this morning:
One of my family’s inside jokes is that whenever we have the occasion to say “label”, the word cannot be left alone and naked like that. It must be said, “labellabellabel” with exactly the inflection of Alastair Sim in minute 5:40 of this video:
Accordingly, I wish to speak of labellabellabels today — specifically “author”, “writer”, and their attendant modifiers, such as “pre-published.”
Should we try a repeat of Friday’s delayed post, and ignore the crazy that precipitated it?
Who am I kidding? If you hang out around here, you probably got up close and familiar with “crazy” some time ago. (Actually, more to follow, but let’s make today about celebration rather than intellectual excercise.)
This was the original post:
So…I have more changes, prompted by the need to register my domain. I figured while I had it, I might as well park a very simple website to collect my links and refer people here, if they are interested.
Unfortunately, the dot com domain had already been claimed by a gentleman in South America, who I’m certain is very nice, but entirely too smart for my own good. Therefore, I got the next best thing — appropriate to a Canadian writer anyhow: janohara dot ca.
Some of you have asked how I came up with the title for this blog and until now I have kept that secret, as if it were the eleven herbs and spices developed by Colonel Sanders.* However, because I aspire to be as generous a person as I am modest, I have reconsidered.
Also, I needed a blog topic for today.
Also, I get to use diagrams and pointers and wear my ex-professor face — which is to say it will be great and goodly fun and possibly involve chalk. Are you ready? *rubs hands* Isn’t this thrilling?
This is how the title “Tartitude” came into being:
I don’t know. This could be scary, people. I don’t mean in the sense we’ve reached the End of Times, that I just saw a zombie drive past as I halted at the four-way stop, or that I cooked. Nothing that horrific. But it’s possible that a few days of earnest cleaning and organizing might be turning into a habit.
Will you still like me if I’m not quite as undignified, or as…human?
Please think carefully, because this is not a cruel practical joke designed to make you dig deep, expose your innermost feelings to the Internet, then point and laugh.
For instance, look what I ordered last night for the upcoming Romance Writers of America conference:
Yesterday I switched Twitter identities and avatars. A mistake? You be the judge.
A few months ago I posted here and on Twitter under the name “hope101/Tartitude.” I wasn’t truly anonymous; I had a link to my blog on Facebook; many of the people who followed me here are writing friends, and were already privy to my real life name. But I left it that way for a few reasons:
- Inertia: it takes a lot of effort to evoke change, then follow its ripples through all the venues I frequent these days.
- Sentimental attachment to the name “hope.”
- When I pretended I was anonymous, I gave myself permission to experiment and be playful — two things I embrace and want to do more of in my life.
- I was subconsciously hedging my bets so that if I “failed” to make it as a writer, the fallout wouldn’t contaminate my personal life.
Then a few things happened in the Tartiverse: