Flappers and Narwhals: A Thesis Adventure!

Formspring time!

How is your thesis book coming along?

Very well, thank you. It's a little slow at times, but I'm only a few weeks away from writing the conclusion.

If anyone's been checking my Figment page over the last few months, you've probably noticed that besides the occasional contests, my updates have slowed down considerably.  There's a good reason for that. 

My third and final year of graduate school is approaching and in order to earn my diploma, there is one last epic task that I must complete: writing a finished, polished manuscript. My thesis. 

No matter what genre you work in - whether it be fiction, nonfiction, or poetry - this is the usual requirement for graduation (besides, you know, getting good grades and all that). Fiction writers have the option of either writing a novel manuscript or a short story collection manuscript for their thesis. 

After much deliberation, I decided to take on a novel. 

The last year is usually spent working closely with one's thesis director and committee; we gather together, talk about revisions, and then I go back to my office and scratch my head until I figure out the best plan to attack my editing. In order to this successfully, and get the best feedback I can, I must complete the first draft of my thesis before returning to school.

So that's what this summer is for. I have been writing every single day to reach that goal.

Because it's a school-related writing project, I'm not able to share it. However, I can tell you a little about it. 

My thesis is set in a fantasy world inspired by the 1920's. There is a girl who studies shipwrecks and lore. There is a boy who speaks to numbers. 

This novel is bursting with flappers, lighthouses, gramophones, an adventurer's club, deaths, narwhals, pocket watches, keys, wooden props, a castle, islands, witching waves, candy floss, ocean liners, violets, a carnival city, squash racket matches, captains, sailors, saltwater swimming pools, childhood crushes, fire, and foul storms. 

I've been listening to a lot of The Hush Sound and A Fine Frenzy, two bands I've adored for a while. I've also been filling my iPod with a ton of electro swing. 

My research books include, but are not limited to a 1927 reproduction of a Sears catalogue and an early history of ocean liners. 

And of course, there's always bits of inspiration to be found along the way: 

Richard Barthelmess, you're terribly cute.

The anatomy of a 20's girl!

Narwhals!

And of course, a happy helping of Fatty Arbuckle and Buster Keaton's misadventures.

The Sea in Winter

For some inexplicable reason, I miss the sea. I didn't know I did. This evening, as a I wind down from a long day of school, I'm thinking of nothing beyond the normal mundane worries of catching some sleep and wondering how much planning I'll be saving for Procrastination's capable hands.

And then, like magic, the television shows this surprisingly endearing commercial.

Suddenly I find myself looking around the living room, wondering if I have a shell that's waiting patiently for me to pick up. It's unlikely since I've developed a love for very tiny, broken shells. I have a small plastic bag with a handful of them inside, all specks of swirling colors that I pried out of the sand before the tide came in. But that was years ago - I'm not a beach person and I don't go very often. My idea of a fun beach trip is spending the evening there, when the sun is setting and the air is cool. I'd take off my shoes and walk into the ocean up to my knees, letting the waves soak my rolled up jeans. I wither in the unrelenting Florida heat (hence, the almost vampirelike preference in beach time), turning grouchy within minutes of sitting out under a cloudless sky.

When I was little, I used to jump fearlessly into the water and bob about, ducking under waves. My father would carry me out further and we'd laugh as the larger waves knocked us over. But then... I was a tidy kid. After getting seaweed stuck up my swimsuit and finally tired of sand caked into every curve, I stopped going in the water and switched seashell-hunting strolls instead. I didn't regret it (after all, I love pools, haha).

Anyone who has been following this blog knows how much I love commercials. When they are done well, I think that they can be pieces of art. So it was with this one - a cruise commercial, of all things! But as soon as it aired, I looked up from my laptop with an open mouth. The sea has a lovely, coaxing voice. So unlike the haughty, fickle oceans I've been writing about in a particular project of mine. Not that I don't see the beauty in the sea (who can forget), but the touching nature of the sea in this commercial made me think of those calm evenings on the shore.

Perfect, right? Thinking about the sea in the winter. But it's hot again here and the air conditioning was severely lacking in the school building today. If only a seashell with a ringer had been hidden under a mound of last semester's papers or tucked behind the coffee mix. But I guess that's what commercials like this are for :)