Do you ever think the writers of House of Cards were ever like, "Hey, what do we name this wacky show? I know, Game of Thrones! Crap, that's taken? Game of Cards! Too close? Hmmm ..."
We can agree, right, that Frank Underwood is the Cersei Lannister? Excellent.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Book thoughts?
I got a Kindle gift card a few days ago, and I'm having a terrible time deciding what I want to buy.
Gone Girl?
Silver Linings Playbook?
Code Name Verity?
Help, friends!
Gone Girl?
Silver Linings Playbook?
Code Name Verity?
Help, friends!
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Do you want to do a good deed?
Click HERE and find out how you can be charitable and get your read-on at the same time.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Playlist
JAIMA RODGERS GOES TO COLLEGE
You may recall that a few months ago I finished writing a book. Well, that book is out on submission now (which sounds so pretentious to say -- I sent it to some publishers that I like and that don't require an agent, look at me! -- but it is what it is. PRETENSION!). To celebrate that, and my upcoming opportunity to draft again (yay!), I wanted to share some music that feels like Jaima Rodgers music.
Enjoy :)
Monday, March 4, 2013
A light at the end of the tunnel
My busy season at work is, ever-so-slowly, wrapping up over the next few weeks, and I am looking forward to my next big project: 30 before 30.
I have a few goals that are tumbling around my brain (Get an agent/publishing contract/or self-publish by 30? Go out of the country? Redo my kitchen? Run a 10K? Ski a black diamond run without falling?) and I'd like to hear what some of you did/would do to commemorate your last year of your 20s. I need suggestions, friends, so lay them on me!
I have a few goals that are tumbling around my brain (Get an agent/publishing contract/or self-publish by 30? Go out of the country? Redo my kitchen? Run a 10K? Ski a black diamond run without falling?) and I'd like to hear what some of you did/would do to commemorate your last year of your 20s. I need suggestions, friends, so lay them on me!
Friday, March 1, 2013
My beef with Ayn Rand
It's actually quite simple. I don't totally object to her bizarrely compelling, yet ultimately unworkable philosophies. I can't even hold her terrible prose against her (I'd consider myself lucky to get a book published in my native tongue, much less an adopted one).*
It's the way Rand, much like Stephenie Meyer, cleverly bootstraps her reader into the place of her main character.
The Twilight novels owe a great deal of their runaway success to the fact that anyone reading them can imagine herself (it's almost always "herself") in the shoes of Bella Swan. Who doesn't want to imagine that the reason a hot guy seemingly doesn't like you is because, in fact, he LOVES you? And would do anything for you? Has, in fact, waited his whole immortal life for you? And that despite your ordinariness, everyone is falling all over themselves to befriend and date you?
It's seductive, this vision of self-as-Bella. And as it has made Stephenie Meyer a bazillionaire, I won't throw any shade her way for recognizing that and capitalizing on it.
Which leads me to Ms. Rand.
With novels like The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, you have the EXACT SAME PHENOMENON. Only instead of being able to fantasize about being the It Girl, you get to fantasize that you're the only one who Gets It. Everyone who reads Ayn Rand identifies with Howard Roark, the brilliant (brilliantly brilliant! the brilliantiest!) architect who is Up Against The World. Dagny Taggart and Hank Reardon, capitalists and scientists! They're Unique! They're Special!
Wouldn't you know it -- they're JUST LIKE THE READER!
Much like Twilight asks us to ignore the obvious (that a girl as supposedly mediocre as Bella would not, in fact, attract a guy like Edward, who also doesn't exist -- and that any girl casting herself in Bella's shoes is similarly destined for real-world disappointment), Ayn Rand asks all her readers to pretend that they are the Atlases who might Shrug, overlooking the fact that none of us know anyone like Roark, Taggart, or Reardon in real life, much less resemble them ourselves. Forget about that little detail -- YOU hold the world on your shoulders! Not all these losers and users. You know who John Galt would invite to his oh-so-exclusive retreat? Why you!
Cough.
Ahem.
Not really, can we all admit?
* The exception to both of these is her novella Anthem, which is quite lovely, in my opinion, and expresses the most coherent, concise vision of Objectivism, which is still kind of nonsense.
It's the way Rand, much like Stephenie Meyer, cleverly bootstraps her reader into the place of her main character.
The Twilight novels owe a great deal of their runaway success to the fact that anyone reading them can imagine herself (it's almost always "herself") in the shoes of Bella Swan. Who doesn't want to imagine that the reason a hot guy seemingly doesn't like you is because, in fact, he LOVES you? And would do anything for you? Has, in fact, waited his whole immortal life for you? And that despite your ordinariness, everyone is falling all over themselves to befriend and date you?
It's seductive, this vision of self-as-Bella. And as it has made Stephenie Meyer a bazillionaire, I won't throw any shade her way for recognizing that and capitalizing on it.
Which leads me to Ms. Rand.
With novels like The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, you have the EXACT SAME PHENOMENON. Only instead of being able to fantasize about being the It Girl, you get to fantasize that you're the only one who Gets It. Everyone who reads Ayn Rand identifies with Howard Roark, the brilliant (brilliantly brilliant! the brilliantiest!) architect who is Up Against The World. Dagny Taggart and Hank Reardon, capitalists and scientists! They're Unique! They're Special!
Wouldn't you know it -- they're JUST LIKE THE READER!
Much like Twilight asks us to ignore the obvious (that a girl as supposedly mediocre as Bella would not, in fact, attract a guy like Edward, who also doesn't exist -- and that any girl casting herself in Bella's shoes is similarly destined for real-world disappointment), Ayn Rand asks all her readers to pretend that they are the Atlases who might Shrug, overlooking the fact that none of us know anyone like Roark, Taggart, or Reardon in real life, much less resemble them ourselves. Forget about that little detail -- YOU hold the world on your shoulders! Not all these losers and users. You know who John Galt would invite to his oh-so-exclusive retreat? Why you!
Cough.
Ahem.
Not really, can we all admit?
* The exception to both of these is her novella Anthem, which is quite lovely, in my opinion, and expresses the most coherent, concise vision of Objectivism, which is still kind of nonsense.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Oh friends
I am so fried. Can you tell? I feel like everyone in my real life is giving me a side-eye at the moment, so it wouldn't surprise me at all if this lack-of-togetherness is coming through the Internets as well.
What's going on in you lives? Anything exciting? What are you reading, watching, listening to?
What's going on in you lives? Anything exciting? What are you reading, watching, listening to?
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