Write Early, Write Often…Write Something!

With the first Sunday of the Roman Catholic new year, this year, November 27, 2011, we return to the original Latin, translated into English. So for those of us, aware and cognizant of the mass pre-1963 and the Ecumenical Council called by John the XXIII, the change is a ‘not so much moment’. And, we were young, I was in college when the mass changed into English. I can remember being at the University of Portland, run by the Holy Cross priests, [Fr. Tom Fitzpatrick, C.S.C., called it the only school built on a bluff ]  and standing around the altar for mass, the guitars, the holding hands, the singing, but most importantly, the closeness of the Eucharist and the immediacy of the miracle of the mass less than an arm’s length away. I’m a product of catholic schooling from kindergarten through my freshman year in college. Nope. Never rebelled. Never stopped going to mass. Never thought it stupid. Sometimes I argued with God. We had many a fight. I ranted and railed. But in truth, I enjoyed it. It fit me like a glove. Still does. And with Thanksgiving just a day ago, it is something I add to my list of ‘grateful for.’

After the Second Vatican Council, the language of the church, Latin, was translated into the language of the people, the vernacular, for us, English. But. They had to get it done quickly. These were tumultuous times. The translation, using what is called the dynamic equivalence, meant they wanted to get the overall meaning rather than a word-for-word translation. That’s what is changing now. We are moving to a formal equivalence. Correcting how we should speak to God in our mass. A brochure from the Federation of Diocesan Liturgical Commissions in DC states “…there is more than one way of saying the same thing. “Hey, pass the salt!” or “Would you pass me the salt, please?” are all basically saying the same thing and will all likely result in you getting the salt shaker. But some ways of speaking are more appropriate for one context than another.”  It is the difference between sitting at the kitchen table having supper or at a formal dinner. And, after all, the mass is the most formal of festivities, it is the marriage feast.

Our priest, Father Jim Collins, hopes that by reverting to more formal language, the reverence with which we participate in the mass will increase. This will be strange for those who have converted in the last forty years. And, for our children, who like us have to see the church anew. I hope Father Jim is right. Kinda reminds me of when I first when to work, the suits, the silk shirts, the high heels. And, you acted with panache, well, because, you looked the part. Yeah. Kinda like that!

…for now, at least. Watched the first 40 minutes of Page Eight. A Masterpiece Contemporary, I think they call it. Put it on the DVR when I saw the review in The Wall Street Journal. And, anything this terribly British means that I have to watch it for a bit of time, then watch it again. My ears have to get use to the fact that they all mumble, well, except for Rachel Weisz. They use some different terms than we use here. The story so unsubtly British, so spy-driven, for the first several minutes I thought I was watching a John le Carré , Cold War, circa 1960′s, going-to-the-dark-place book.  So much so I was surprised at the talk of a website, the use of a computer and a blackberry. Somehow, it seemed very out of place. Not very Brit spy. Oh, but it is.

Maybe tonight I’ll get through the next 40 minutes. And then there’ll be another 40 minutes after that. Who knows. I do know that while it takes a while to process all that is going on, I won’t forget it.  There are relationships inside, outside and through the story. Which ones are real is the challenge. They all look fake, no, not fake, unreal. Set up. Maybes. After all, they are all spies, well, except for Rachel Weisz. And they are all jockeying for position, of some sort. And it’s spare. Lean. The LA Times calls it a ‘low-boil thriller. Mainly, because of the magnificent cast, little needs to be said. There is the eye-brow lift. The pursed lip. The quiet, almost non-look look.

The plot so far, from those first 40 minutes is this: there’s this file that shows the highest position in the land, the PM, knows where the Americans are keeping and torturing terrorists. The fact is, he knows, and failed to tell his cabinet or his security forces. Oh, those nasty Americans, keeping the Brits as their lapdog. But are they? I mean, if he knows. Michael Gambon as Benedict Baron, head of MI5 [Professor Dumbledore!] is close friend and boss of Bill Nighy, Johnny Worrnicker, security analyst, our hero. Sort of. But is he. Baron is married to Worrnicker’s ex-wife. Worrnicker’s daughter, Juliette, paints the most depressing pictures and is pregnant. I’m not sure where this goes in the story. They all talk so civilly to each other. And, Rachel Weisz, Nancy Pierpan, Senior Editor, and Johnny’s neighbor have this ‘chance’ encounter. Johnny’s main problem is he’s a purist. And he trusts no one. So. Will he trust Nancy?

I left the story where his goes to a dinner at one of those very British old’ boy school functions. All the participants are in evening dress, and all the students are, well, students. The PM comes. Apparently they’ve all gone through Cambridge together. Although, somehow, I wasn’t getting a Cambridge vibe, just me.

But. What I’m really interested in is the file…

hmmm…time to pick what sessions I want to attend at the SCBWI LA conference this coming August so that the fabulous, amazingly organized and charming Patricia Wiles can schedule RAs/ARAs working assignments.

Sheeze, first I have to get my own manuscript consultation in the mail, finish the  planning for the SCBWI Carolinas conference, one wedding, critique submissions AND then, I go to the conference. Feels like that’s eons away.

What in god’s name will I want to hear in August. Do I want to hear Melissa Stewart talk about non-fiction, or Liesa Abrams talk about Middle Grade Commerical Fiction? Bonnie Bader’s on the program, I could always learn something from her, always. Then come Saturday, will I be ready for Emma Dryden talk about the new models for publishing or do I want to hear Alessandra Balzer talk about what editors want? By this time I’m expecting the information monitor I keep on the right side of my brain to start buzzing, telling me that I’m nearing the failsafe point, because, you see, I haven’t factored in all the keynote speakers; Bruce Coville, Jerry Pinkney, Libba Bray, Emma Dryden, David Small, John Green. Is your head beginning to hurt? My brain is threatening to shut down just thinking about this.

And, I’m not even up to Sunday yet! <she said with a slight shrill edge> And, more choices. The good news is that there are choices. The exceptional good news is that IF I pay attention AND stay engaged for the full three days, I will walk away with knowledge. Maybe not something I can use immediately. But something I can use. Yeah me!