Facing Fears

I can't say that I've craved adventure all my life.  In fact, I was a pretty skittish kid:  timid and shy, afraid of everything from vampires to mushrooms.  Yup, if there was a mushroom growing in my backyard, I wouldn't go outside.  It was that bad.

I've come a long way since then.

I'm not sure when all that passed, though I guess it wasn't until high school that I started to really thirst for adventure.  For danger.  For a story like the the ones I read about in my books.

That's one of the reasons I'm abroad.  Though I started having adventures the moment I stepped foot in Madrid ("Sorry, miss, but you can't get on this plane"), my first adventure à la Indiana Jones happened last weekend:

Signs to Inspire Fear #1

Ronda:  Acrophobia

One misplaced step, and I'm dead.

That's the thought that rung in my ears last weekend.  Well, not really.  Thinking back, that's probably what I should have thought.  Maybe it skittered through my mind once or twice, but the adrenaline kept pushing it away.

We were in Ronda, a city in the clouds, most famous for the bridge that spans the Tajo Canyon.  It also hosts Spain's oldest bullfighting arena and served as a vacation spot for Ernest Hemingway.  In fact, part of Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls takes place in Ronda.  If you've read it, then you know the scene in which the Fascist sympathizers are thrown off a cliff?  Yup, that's Ronda.

You see that path?  Yeah, that's it.

You see, falling off a cliff is a very real possibility in Ronda.  Even more so once you start meandering down the shoddy donkey path that leads to the bottom of the canyon.  Parts of it are wide and well-kept, but others…Well, just don't lose your balance.

If you have any sense of adventure, you can't not go down this path.  Here is where the view is best:  to your right you have the bridge, which spans a magnificent waterfall; to your left, a beautiful countryside that stretches toward breathtaking mountains.  And surprisingly, the view doesn't get any worse as you make your way to the bottom; rather, the canyon walls loom all around you, making the bridge seem even more impressive.

Our view while eating lunch on a ledge.

If you're feeling especially adventurous, you can enter an old cave that supposedly used to serve as a hide-out for bandits.  There are also a few ladders you can climb and old buildings to explore, if you're so inclined.

Gibraltar:  Monkey-phobia

Apparently, Gibraltar is native for great.  Big.  ROCK.  (Name that reference?  The Road to El Dorado.  Yeah, I'm cool.  Get over it.)

But actually, Gibraltar really is a great big rock.  It's just a rock that happens to be an entire British colony.

Signs to inspire fear #2
"You are crossing an active runway.  Dropping Litter can lead
to a fatal accident.  Remember one day it could be you in that
aircraft."

That's right.  Gibraltar is part of the U.K., so for a few hours we left tapas and siestas behind in exchange for tea and biscuits, fish and chips, and bright red telephone booths!

The adventure begins as soon as you cross the border.  To get from passport control to the actual city, you have to walk across an active airfield.  Don't get hit by a plane!

After that, we clambered through an old tunnel, probably once part of a fortress, that dumped us right into the city.  Unfortunately, we didn't have a lot of time, so we took the obligatory tourist photos and then hurried off to the cable car that would take us to the top of the rock.

Oh yes, the cable car.  On a scale of 1 to Sketchy, this cable car seemed pretty darn sketchy.  But we didn't have enough time to walk up, so in we went.

If you're afraid of heights, Gibraltar is not for you.

The cable car dumped us at the top of the rock.  Greeting us with greedy hands were…

Signs to Inspire Fear #3

Monkeys.  Macaques, to be specific.

I've never been a fan of monkeys, but I decided right then and there that I really don't like them.  They're pickpockets and identity thieves, and if you don't give them what they want, they'll rip your face off.

A minute after we stepped off the cable car we witnessed a showdown between a grown man and a monkey over the man's backpack.  The monkey eventually threw in the towel, but then he came after us.

Uh uh.  I don't think so, Monkey.  Try to steal my wallet, and I will pick you up and throw you off the cliff.

There were monkeys everywhere.  Sitting on the walls.  Riding on the tops of cars.  Climbing on people.  As my roommate would say, "I ain't about that life."

But there was no escape.  They were everywhere, which meant I had to face them.

Walking along the path down the mountain was like walking through a haunted house.  You know the ones in which people jump out at you?  Yeah, just like that.  With every step, I had to worry that a monkey would launch itself at me.

Don't be fooled.  These things are evil.  (This is a little one.)

But it's one of those things that I had to do.  Was I afraid?  Sure, but I didn't cower behind my friends, either.  In fact, there were points when I led the way.  That didn't mean I was any less afraid; rather, I knew that I had to do this if I wanted to get back down the rock.

At one point, our friend was attacked.  She pulled out a muffin, and bam!  A giant monkey appeared out of nowhere and threw itself at her.  She tossed the muffin as he climbed up her body; he went after it, and we hurried away, only to mount the Platform of Doom.

Imagine boat dock that juts straight out of the side of a mountain.  Or a giant diving board.  This was the midway station to catch the cable car.  Yes, there were railings, but the platform below was made up rickety wooden planks that rattled as the cable car approached.  I'm not afraid of heights, but my stomach twisted into knots as we waited.

Looking up from the Platform of Doom.

Now for writing.

We want our characters to be brave.  It's one of those traits that's usually required of a protagonist; otherwise, he'd never do anything, and there wouldn't be a story.

However, everyone is afraid of something.  Turns out I'm afraid of monkeys.  Some people fear  heights.  For others, its spiders that give them the heeby-jeebies.

Then there's the basic fear of failure that drives most plots.  In order to build tension, every MC has to have this fear to some extent, even if she won't admit it out loud.  But in my opinion, the best books add a few more fears, which hopefully contribute to the plot:

Just one of the many many reasons Harry Potter is so fantastic is that the main characters are brave Gryffindors, but they also all have personal fears:  Harry's fear of dementors is fantastic because he recognizes that he's afraid and seeks out a way to conquer that fear.  There are a lot of reasons my favorite Harry Potter book is Prizoner of Azkaban, but one of them is the boggart, the creature that shapeshifts into your worst fear and can only be defeated by laughter.  (You don't need me to tell you that J.K. Rowling is absolutely brilliant, but she's spot on when she says that laughter is the best way to combat fear.  Sure, I was terrified of those monkeys, but I kept my fear at bay by imagining the monkey stealing my bag, which contained my passport and credit cards, and then causing mischief all over the world, using my name to do so.)

Honestly I think fear is one of the hardest feelings to write.  At least, for me.  It's one of those emotions that's as easy to overdo as it is to leave out completely, and finding the correct balance sometimes seems impossible.

But I'm a writer, and writers are a little crazy obsessive.  They think about writing all the time.  Which is why I like to put myself in situations that scare me, whether its peering off the side of a cliff or passing through a wild monkey den:  "Hey, I'm absolutely terrified right now.  How does it feel?  I can totally write about this later."

That's as close as I was getting.  This is my face of utter distress.

Have you had any adventures à la Indiana Jones?  What would your boggart turn into?  Do you ever put yourself in unpleasant situations just so you can write about them later?

When to Put Down the Book

Another weekend, another adventure!  Where, you ask?  AFRICA.

It's casual.

The most glorious sunset.  That's Africa.

Yep, I spent three days in Morocco, exploring the beautiful cities of Tetuan, Chefchaouen, and Tangier.  Cool, right?  Way cool.  Every few minutes I said to myself, "Is this real life?  This cannot be real life."

Guess what?  It was real life.

We left Spain on Friday, crossing at the Straits of Gibraltar.  As we sailed for Ceuta, a Spanish city located in Morocco, we watched the most glorious sunset I have ever seen.  With Africa to one side, and Europe to the other, the sun dipped below the Mediterranean horizon, momentarily lighting up the sky with a million colors.

A street in Chefchaouen.  Notice the mountain.

We spent most of Saturday in Chefchaouen, a picturesque town on the side of a mountain.  (Almost all the towns are on the sides of mountains).  There I had my first experience with a Moroccan market:  unlike in the States, it's acceptable--no, expected--that you haggle.  I'm terrible at it, but it was still a ton of fun!  Like when I turned my back on the shopkeeper, strutted away with mock confidence, and sure enough, he called me back:  "Okay, okay, you can have for 70 dirham!"

I thought so.

Anyway, now I'm loaded up with a beaded shirt, a sundress, three giant bags of Moroccan tea, several grams of saffron, some soap, earrings, a scarf, three pairs of harem pants, and a magic lamp.  (The Disney nerd in me could not in good conscience go to Morocco and not get a magic lamp).

I'm on a camel!  In MOROCCO.

After a Moroccan lunch, we headed for Tangier.  The next day we rode some camels, explored Tetuan, and finally, went back to semi-reality, a.k.a. Spain.

So what does any of this have to do with reading and writing?  Lots, actually.  I could talk about cool settings, or gender roles in books, or world-building, or fun dialogue (I mean, just think about the banter between a shopkeeper and a potential customer).

But instead, I'm going to talk about not writing and not reading.  Sometimes, it's actually a good idea :)

The three cities I visited are relatively far from each other:  at least an hour, sometimes two or more, on a narrow road that winds through a rugged countryside.  Lots of bus time to get work done, right?  Good, because I had a ton of reading to do:  reading for class, reading for my internship, research reading for my WIP, reading friends' manuscripts, and so on.

Moroccan countryside.

I turned on my Kindle.  Looked down.  Read a sentence.  A paragraph.  And turned it off.

How could I stare at a page when the beautiful Moroccan countryside was rolling by my window?  I can read anytime, I can write anytime.  But who knows when I'll next see Morocco?  Even if it's from a bus, through a window, the vista is so breathtaking, so awe-inspiring, that I'd be a fool to miss it, even for a gripping page-turner.  Because guess what?  This is real life.

Market in Tetuan.

It's those moments when real life becomes as awe-inspiring as fiction that it's time to put down the book, look out the window, explore and dream and live.  Writers always inhabit the heads of their characters, but every once in awhile, they need to leave those characters behind in order to go on their own adventures.  Otherwise, they'll miss the wonderful story called life.

What if I had been a good student and did my assigned readings while on the ferry?  I would have missed the Most Glorious Sunset.  And if I had read on the bus?  Or if I had been writing?  I'd never have noticed the rippling streams that course through the hills, or the little boy riding a donkey, or a multicolored herd galloping in sync over a field.

Books are great.  I love books.  I love words.  They truly are magical, but it's important to remember that they are just words on a page.  Powerful words, but words nonetheless.  Simple inkblots.  Turn away for a moment, and you'll find that the real story is the one that's all around you.