2014年4月29日 星期二

Comments to "The Ghost in the Mountain"

Greetings Fang-Tzu,

Congratulations on your recent accomplishment! You should be very proud of your writing and your ability to showcase your skills. The judges enjoyed your piece and provided the following feedback on your writing:

"This story has some very interesting elements and you undertook the challenging task of blending reality and fantasy (fable). There needs to be a clearer more understanding link between the real world moments and the fantasy moments and the final result of blending them should have a stronger pay off or impact on the reader at the conclusion of your story."

"Some nice images, but this piece remains a bit cryptic. I needed something more concrete. I do appreciate some of the atmospheric touches."

"I love how wise she is and how she looks at him and says "You look like him. But you are so different." The difference doesn't have to be explained- I'm so glad you don't. The fairy tale aspect makes me think of the English writer Neil Gaiman. You should check out his stories."
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Well, of course, if readers have more background knowledge about the meaning of "September 9", and Chu Ci, this story will probably be more interesting. However, this is my intention that not to explain these cultural meanings. I do believe a good story should allow readers have their own fantasy. This is, indeed, not a Chinese cultural dictionary. 
However, I notice cultural difference still exist. Asian countries seem to be in the other world.....
But again, it is not that different actually. We still share the same Neil Gaiman story!!

LACMA, I really like this outdoor design. Put this photo for no reason.
  

第一篇試寫的英文短篇小說:The Ghost in the Mountain 2(山鬼)

Maybe he was crazy.
    In his dreams, she was a divine mystery. She came only in the midnight of the deep dark dreams. Sometimes she dressed in flowers, but most of time she dressed in leaves. They always met on an old mountain trail, except one night.
    She rode a red leopard like an Amazon warrior.
    “Why you never speak?” He asked.
There were no answers. She stared at him as usual. As if she was waiting for something.
Then, there was a voice in the wind.
“Come.” the voice said. “Come to the mountain. It is time to return.”
He remembered who said that before.

He was awakened from the dream, when the clock knocked twelve.
Then he noticed that day was September 9th .
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He did go to some mountains.
He visited Mount Rushmore to see the four heads. He went to Yellowstone to see its fierce beauty. He stood on the Eagle Point…
But none of them had the old trail in his dream.

He sat by the bonfire in Yosemite Park at that night.
It was in a late September. He went to the place with a group of people, but during the night, he was alone.
He was in the mountain, a deep quite mountain.
Suddenly, he heard that voice.
“Here you are.”
She was here!
He saw the woman in his dreams. She stood in front of him. Under the shadow of trees, she looked like an ancient Greek status under the moonlight. She dressed nothing. She was naked.
“Come with me.”
He followed her order, as if there was no choice.
Then they walked on that mountain trail.
When he walked he saw her body. He knew it was not belong to a human being, but still, he thought it was charming. That was nothing related to sexual desire. Actually, when he thought about sex, it made him feel guilty.
They kept silent.
They walked through the forest without a voice, just like ghosts in the mountain.
It was just like his usual dreams, except the ending part. She led him to the end of the trail, which never happened.
“This is it.”
He wondered what was behind the tall trees.
They walked through the trees.

The glare of the suns almost blinded his eyes.
After he got used to the light, he saw there were nine suns on the east sky. On the west sky, however, was a crystal moon. There was a woman on that.
He was shocked. He was stunned. He saw flying dragons playing on the clouds. He saw them bringing the water from the heaven to the earth.
He saw a giant running across the land. The giant drank the rivers when he got thirsty and rested by his walking stick, which grew into a giant tree.
In the tree, there were thousands of unnamed birds. They sang different stories with human voices. Most of the stories had already been forgotten. Most of the stories he had never heard.
They were far, far away and long, long time ago…
“You are Shan-Gui.” He called her name. “You are the goddess of the mountain.”
She smiled as usual.
And she talked.
“Several years ago, you took away something from me.” She spoke in fluent Chinese, which he could hardly understand. “Now it is time to return.”
She put her hand into his chest pocket, and took out something.
It was the tin box.
“It must be important.” He remembered what his father said.
She opened the box and poured it out.
There was nothing but black dirt.
The same color of the ground, where they stood on.
“It is just dirt.” He heard he said.
Shan-Gui looked at him surprisingly. She stared at him.
Then she smiled sadly as if she noticed something.
“You look alike.” She said. “But you are so different.”
He noticed he made a mistake. He wanted to say something to remedy, but it was too late.

All of a sudden, he found himself falling into a dark world.
It was night. It was quite.
He sat by the bonfire alone, but he felt so cold.
He returned to his world again. It was the world with no magic, no tales, and no memory.
He saw the tin box on the ground. He picked it up and looked into it.
But it was empty.
Suddenly, he felt so tired.
He closed his eyes.

He knew there would be no dreams tonight.  
I do not know who draw this, but I like this feeling. you can hardly tell how this goddess looks like.
She is no more than a concept.

第一篇試寫的英文短篇小說:The Ghost in the Mountain 1(山鬼)

如果是中文讀者的話,看到"山鬼"應該就知道這篇內容用的是什麼神話了吧。
If you are a Chinese speaker, you probably know which mystery this story is based on.
這是我第一次創作的英文故事,比中文要困難很多。
This is my first English story. Indeed, it is much more difficult than creating a Chinese one.
雖說是為了投稿UCLA Kurnitz Award寫的,但也算是我給自己的一個挑戰。
Although this is for UCLA Kurnitz Award, I see this as a challenge which I set up for my self too.
僅以此文獻給我的爺爺,一位二戰戰士,我們家族中第一個來美國留學的人。
I dedicate this story and its meaning to my grandfather, a WWⅡ warrior, the first person who went abroad study to the USA in my family.
順帶一題,以下的就只有英文,沒中文翻譯了,因為我很懶。
No translation! I am lazy!!!(??)
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There was the same woman in his dreams.
She was the most beautiful woman that he had even seen. She was, an Asian, just like him. Her hair was dark as night cloud, her lips were red as cherries, and her body was covered by unnamed plants.
She was there.
    He still remembered how his dreams started.
They started with an old trail in the mountain, a deep quite mountain. There were tall trees surrounded. He looked upon, but the green leaves cover above. He could barely see the sky.    
    She smiled.
    “Who are you?” He probably has asked, but there was no answer.
    He heard the whisper of gentle wind.
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    He could not remember when the first time they met in his dream was. Probably right after September 9th, the day he became a university student, the day he moved to west Los Angeles, and the seventh day after his grandfather passed away. The death of his family member made him more sentimental than usual, but he could not tell whether this change was owing to the sorrow, or the shock of death itself.  
    He could hardly know who his grandfather was.
    Of course, he knew something. He knew that his grandfather was a soldier, who served for air force. It was the late World War, while Chinese and Japanese were fighting fiercely in the far east battle field. A few years after people celebrated the victory of China, for some reasons that he would never know, his grandfather immigrated to the U.S.A.
His father said it was because of the Civil War in China. Many warriors, who were like his grandfather, got killed during that time. But his grandfather survived.
    However, he did not win his last war.
    That was a painful memory about grandfather’s last few days. Grandfather slept a lot. But sometimes, when he woke up, he called out people’s names and chatted with them as they were there. They were his family members, his friends, and his colleagues, who stayed in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China. Grandfather was happy, so no one dared to remind him that those people had already gone.
At one night, he heard his grandfather singing. He sang softly. He sang quietly. He sang, just like the whisper of the gentle wind.
“It is time to return.” Grandfather sang.
    On the next day, he had gone.
    Grandfather died in his garden. No one knew the reason why he walked outside in the midnight. When they found him, he had something in his hand. It was a small tin box, which no one had ever seen.
    “It must be important.” His father said.
    But no one knew what was inside. The box was locked. There were no ways to open it.
He kept the box as a memory of his grandfather.
    The day after the funeral, she came into his dream.
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    “She must be a ghost.” His friend Sam guessed. “She was probably your grandfather’s friend.”
    “Perhaps.” He said. “But I do not understand. Why we always meet in the mountain?”
    “Maybe she lived in the mountain.” Sam shruged. “Or she died in that mountain.”
    He tried to find the clues about the ghost in the mountain. Frustratingly, neither encyclopedia nor Google helped. Most of the ghost stories he found were no more than dumb stories written in cheap novels, except one.
    That was an ancient Chinese tale.
    “…She is the ghost in the mountain. She is the forgotten goddess. She clads in the creeping vine and ivy. Her vision is gentle and her smile is charming…
    “Shan-Gui.” That was how people called her. That was her name.
    She was a beautiful goddess who waited in the mountain for her lover.
    He would rather believe she was the one in his dream.
    He never told his parents what he found. Actually, he did not even mention about the woman in his dreams. His parents were devout Christians. Both of them were active members of the community church. He could imagine what would happen if they know there was a ghost.
    “She is such a beautiful woman.” He explained to his friend. “I mean, you won’t feel creepy when she looks into your eyes. Her smile is so lovely and so real. It doesn’t look like imagination. It is like something comes from your old memory…”
    “You are nut.” Sam said.
When my grandfather was still alive, he said he was trained as a pilot in the USA during the end of WWⅡ.
He did not really join the anti-Japanese battle, but he did fly for the Civil War.
I am not sure whether I inherit this pilot spirit, but I do like to image what is above the sky.

2014年4月20日 星期日

4/21 我們該不該談政治?

最近因為太陽花運動的關係,讓許多教育界和文界的知名人士跳入戰場,發表自己的政治理念,更有教授級的學者表達自己的立場。有些甚至還變成考題XD(不引用了,請自行估狗李茂生教授的神奇考題)

跳脫那些鬼打牆的藍綠統獨問題,我今天想問的是:教育和藝術創作到底該不該牽涉政治?

在回答自己的問題以前,我想應該先稍微談一下政治的定義。"治理眾人之事"應該是個耳熟能詳的定義,不過我更喜歡以下這個:
“Education as a specifically human action has a “directive” vocation, that is, it addresses itself to dreams, ideals, utopias, objectives, to what I have been calling the “political” nature of education. In other words, the quality of being political is inherent in its essence.”
"教育是一種人類特有的行動,它是種具有引導性質的職業。也就是說,教育導向的是夢想,理念,理想世界,和某些目的。這就是我說的教育的"政治"本質。換言之,教育的本質就是政治性。"(出自保羅‧弗雷勒遺作"自由的教育" p.100)

在這個定義裡,什麼是政治?一切有關人與人間的不公平,不正義是政治,因此舉凡性別、種族和階級的差異都是政治。
什麼是政治?一切關於人類對美好社會的希望,對人類基本權力的追求,與對自由、民主、正義的理想,都是政治。
政治無所不在,因為這些就是存在於我們人類社會中每天經歷到的一切。我們會對社會的亂象感到傷心,會對自己受到不公平的對待感到憤怒,都是政治的一部分。因為我們的比較基準,和我們對世界的期待都指向一個目標:我們心目中的理想世界。

但是我們好像常聽到這些話:
"教育應該秉持中立原則,請不要在課堂上討論政治。"
"我的創作是純藝術,不要用色情或政治的眼光批評。"
這樣一來就很奇怪了,才說教育的本質是政治,現在又說不要碰政治,那教育的本質又是什麼東西?

有的人會說:啊,是因為對政治的定義不一樣啦。Freire的定義這麼廣,法律的政治定義是說不能碰敏感議題,當然不同囉。
是嗎?
因為我是教育所,所以還是從教學來看吧。
今天假設學生問我  "老師,太陽花學運到底在吵什麼?"
我的回答能不政治嗎?
我一旦回答就會有某個立場,而那個立場會基於我對理想社會的期待來決定。那麼我的回答不就一定有政治性了嗎?
要做到政治中立的無菌室,只有一個回答有可能:
"這個我不想談,來上課吧。"
"你們在學校裡學的都是知識,和政治無關。"

"我的作品是為藝術而藝術,沒有別的目的。"
聽起來很有異曲同工之妙吧?

今天是復活節,我和教會裡一位英語系大學部的同學談到教學的事。他是位拉丁裔美國人,他說他要用Hip-hop 為非裔和拉丁裔的學生進行文學教學。他希望他未來的學生能從這些政治反諷的創作中,抵抗社會的不公,挺身為弱勢族群發聲。
他不是第一個要用藝術對抗體系的人,但他的問題卻讓我深思了。

"你們台灣流行音樂沒有對社會的批評?那你們的流行音樂有什麼?"
我說,大概是愛情之類的。
我對自己的回答感到很震撼。因為同樣的問題可以繼續延伸:
"台灣的文壇不討論社會議題,不關心弱勢族群,那這麼這些文章都在寫些什麼?"
"台灣連社會科教學都不敢談論時事,連法律系都不敢碰政治議題,那學生怎麼知道要如何解析社會上發生的事?"
對此我只有一個推想,就是我們雖然已經走出歷史陰影,成為民主國家,但我們的民主素養還不足以導向自由。我們很怕被迫選邊站,很怕被某些族群歸類,所以我們就"為教育而教育,為藝術而藝術"全都搞傷春悲秋的後現代文學,全都搞藝術性很高但正常人完全讀不通文句的作品,全都關心自己遭遇有多悲慘,全都搞私小說去了(啊,得罪得罪。)

我們忘了什麼?
我們忘了文學與教育的力量來自對理想社會的期許。
我們忘了文學與教育的力量來自對社會正義的追求。
我們忘了只有人類本質與人類尊嚴超越藍綠統獨。然後我們以為吵贏藍或綠就好了,我們以為喊統一或獨立喊的很大聲,就可以改變我們沒有國際觀、沒有文化競爭力,虧待自己人民還沾沾自喜,目光短淺只看島內,對某些國家彎弓哈腰,對某些國家又種族歧視的事實
如果這些不是政治,還有什麼是政治?
Hammer美術館牆上標語"現在你們不該把對方搞瘋"
此展覽是60-70s一群藝術家透過作品對當代
性別,階級與種族歧視的批評(這次圖文終於有關了)

2014年3月7日 星期五

出外蒐集題材(並不是)

......其實是因為要趕論文所以沒辦法更新。
嗯......雖然平常好像也沒什麼在更新啦。
絕對不是沒工作喔!
越講越心虛...

2014年2月22日 星期六

2/23 所謂"藝術工作"

這篇不太像是抒情散文,純粹是心血來潮打的一些"個人經驗"。當然,其中也有一些是別人的意見,我引用時會附上APA

其實我很猶豫到底該不該談這些,因為某些事實說出來滿打擊人的,但不說出來就是資訊不公開,可能會導致很多人誤入歧途。
"靠寫故事賺錢真好,既能滿足興趣,又有薪水。"好像是大家對作家的一致認定。
"我從小就對寫作有興趣,要怎麼樣才能成為作者呢?"又是一個中學生常面臨的問題(作者可以代換成其他職業啦,像是漫畫家)
"出書以後慢慢就會有名了,真好。"這也是另一種聲音。

        雖然這樣講有點黑暗(真是不好意思,現在你們知道我是個負面能量強大的人了),但以上常聽到的評語可能帶出的回應都既辛酸又複雜啊。
        第一是靠寫故事賺錢作為志業---我想這已經不是什麼秘密了。臺灣是絕對不可能做到這點的,就算你聽過有人賺了錢,那也是少數案例。多數人寫故事賺不了錢,或者倒過來,有人賺了不少錢,但根本不是為了興趣在寫。前者的理由應該不難猜,就是因為臺灣文字創作者(其實是所有藝術創作者)的薪水都少到悲慘的地步。我知道有些人會把這點怪到出版社頭上,但這不是我的作風,因為我覺得出版社其實也是這整個不健全系統的受害者。受到書本最高"不能超過500塊,不然大家寧可看盜版或不買"的潛規則影響,臺灣出版社都是在苦撐。所以說,作者和出版社的關係應該是戰友同盟,而不是其他商業領域的雇主勞工。
        還是來算算作者收益吧。
        作者的薪水有兩種算法,一種是照字數算錢,一種是版權算錢。版權的話看出版量,但台灣市場這麼小,一刷本數自然不可能像美國之類的一下就五千或一萬起跳。為了簡化計算,還是用字數算錢好了。假設一字一塊,一篇小說就算有十萬字,那麼也就是十萬元。但一篇十萬字小說會花作者多少時間呢?
        草稿:順利的話會花掉至少半年,一天寫得快的話兩千到三千吧,但寫過論文的人都知道,實際一定會低於這個數字很多(哈哈哈)。更不要說國定假日天倫同樂的美好時光,自然是罷工狀態,所以半年真的是"非常順利"的情況了。
        校稿:草稿其實不是最難的,真正花精神和時間的是校稿。以我自己的情況,校稿花掉的時間至少和草稿等同,有時碰到大變動(好比你覺得某個劇情接不順,某些人的出場要改變),那校稿的時間就還要延長成兩倍。校稿絕對不是改改字,抓抓錯字而已。有時候比較像整骨,要把所有的劇情都順過一遍。不過我還不是最極端的,因為在上Virginia老師的兒童文學課時,她請來的那個作家為了改一句話改了36次(而且每次都要她老公讀一遍)。
        "這不是什麼新鮮事,我們(作家)同好會裡還大有人超過這個次數。"
        所以我用一年來算應該算快了吧?
        一年十萬塊收益(這是非常好的情況了),這絕對比所謂的2.2少吧!也就是說,作家如果光靠出書的收入,是遠低於臺灣最低薪資的。
        這已經不是夢想能不能填飽肚子的問題了,現實就是,臺灣作家絕不可能光靠這行就活下來。
        我看過有人在網路上說作家只要有筆就能寫,比其他工作的門檻要低,更為輕鬆。
        嗯,也許對某些人是這樣吧。但對我來說好像不太輕鬆。因為我還沒計算情緒成本,時間成本和精神成本下去呢!就像演員一樣,作者就好比導演,要進出許多角色的心靈,當然一個不小心也會發生出不來的情況。這種精神成本沒有勞健保,別人可不會算入考量唷。

        再來順著談會不會有名吧。嗯,其實要給個簡單的答案的話:依我的了解,不會。
        事實上是,寫作本來就不該是為了名氣,要出名怎麼不去搶電視新聞的鏡頭算了?
        矛盾的是,作者又很需要名氣。今天務實點說,一個作家的名氣就是他的品牌。換個角度想,如果讀者-消費者對一個新品牌沒印象,又不想踩坑,不也是會上網查評價之類的嗎?所以就我的觀點,名氣不是目的,但和薪水一樣絕對都是作者要考量的。
        不過我會把這兩者排在社會道德責任之後就是了。因為我念教育系,又是超機車的研究生嘛!
        但回歸正題,出書還是不保證你有名。你花費腦力,時間和精神的創作很可能乏人問津,還比不上一本日本漫畫單冊的銷售量。甚至得獎也不能擔保什麼,大家都知道,臺灣獎項已經氾濫到詭異的地步了,評選機制又非常的......嗯,有趣(大家都知道的)。
        外加臺灣讀者不會把臺灣作家和外國作家放在一個平衡桿上比較。外國作家通常是"檔次比較高"的領域,不分所謂純文學(這分類真的很詭異)或休閒讀物。臺灣很多作品是處在"看在是國產份上,無聊翻一翻好了"的狀態。
        所以你要是聽到身旁的人完全沒聽過你出過的書,也不要太驚訝啦。換句話說,出不出書得不得獎,也不需要一直強調。
        因為真的沒那麼多人在意。適當介紹,偶爾當茶餘的話題。全力投入作品品質才是上策。

        所以碰到對寫作有興趣的人,到底該不該鼓勵他們走進這行呢?
        大家可能發現,我講了這麼多,都還沒說到真正寫作能力和技巧的部分。那些要是談起來又是一堆,限於篇幅,我只給一兩個簡單的結論。
        1.作家是很靠負面能量生產的職業。要有精神方面的準備。
        2.門檻也許沒那麼高沒錯,但大多數的人都撐不過煎熬期。就算撐過,成功也可能維持不久。
        3.技巧可以鍛鍊,但要出異於一般的作品,有某些寫作能力是練不出來的。這其中包含了天生的部分(好比想像力和思考連結力),以及後天的能力(你的人生歷練,對社會的掌握度,運用所學理論的精熟度,素材資料庫的大小,和觀察力等等。)
        因為那些真的練不出來,所以不要迷信寫作補習班之類的。至少如果你的目標是小說家,最好別靠所謂"文壇定律"。
        不是小說就不用技巧,不,小說需要非常多寫作技巧,包含劇情安排,節奏速度,人物掌握都是。但技巧只是基本盤,有更多東西是發生在紙筆之外的。完全考驗你對生命體悟的深度和掌握度。
        雖然不少人主張私小說,但我的觀點是,如果越把生命放在社會關懷,越少把焦點放在自己身上,你的小說強度就越強,觀點就越多元。
        啊,結果還是沒回應到底該不該鼓勵嘛。
        我還是保留答案吧。反正如果有人能承受以上金錢,精神,時間,甚至人際之類的考驗,自然會出線的。
大家要一起努力唷!為臺灣的未來加油!
(理所當然和本文無關的圖攝影於紐奧良)