Conjured by Sarah Doughty
“Here’s a good rule of thumb:
If you don’t want to be called Tiny,
then don’t call me Baby.”
© Sarah Doughty
This was just a small sample of a much larger badass collaboration about etiquette in the online community. Once again, I’m honored to have been a part of the Weyward Sisters. It was fun to write, with some spice added on top. Special thanks to Sudden Denouement for publishing the piece. To read the full piece, click here.
“The words may be on a break. But they’ll
be back. They always come back.”
— Returning
I’m often asked about writer’s block. What to do? How to overcome it? How long will it last? These are all good questions, but they only really need one answer. Keep writing. Every day.
You may feel uninspired, like nothing you put on paper or type on the screen holds any value, but odds are, there is something there. Don’t delete them or throw them away. And the worst thing you can do is to put the pen away and do nothing.
There’s millions of things you can try to wake up your muse, but even if your mind comes up blank, you should write something. Even if it’s only a journal of what happened during your day.
My first fiction novel, Just Breathe, was based on a dream. Back then, I tended to forget my dreams and move on, but I was fortunate enough to journal the next day, and my mind kept going back to that scene. My focus shifted, and the story began to unfold. So, lovelies, don’t ignore your muse when it stirs, you might miss something incredible.
© Sarah Doughty
In the comments, let me know what you do to overcome creative blocks.
To receive one of these rare, highly-intuitive and overwhelmingly positive reviews is never to be taken lightly. Not only am I a little speechless, grinning ear to ear at Ian Gregoire’s thoughts, I’m beyond honored. To know from an unlikely (male) source that my first book was everything I hoped it would be is a gift in and of itself. It reiterates that my decision to write and then share this story — the story that in many ways hits very close to my heart — was the right one.
This was written in response to the discussion posted by Tyson Adams.
I was a fan of the Goosebumps books when I was six. So naturally I thought I was perfectly capable of handling the “It” miniseries when it was released. To say I was terrified was an understatement. But I was hooked. I dropped those Goosebumps like a bad habit and started reading Stephen King.
It, the book, was quite engrossing, but not so much scary. I liked the way the news reports were presented, and even the narrative of Pennywise gave us a new way of seeing him. But the chemistry with the Loser’s Club was really the core of it. Of course, there was that strange scene near the end of the kid’s journey that unified them and allowed them to become adults all in one go. Let’s just say, King’s voice of how was quite the odd method of achieving that goal. But otherwise, I rather enjoyed the story.
I’ve seen the miniseries from time to time over the years and remember those frights with fond appreciation. But I waited to watch “It” again in favor of having a somewhat cleansed palette. The theatrical version was so far beyond what I’d hoped for, that I saw it again a second time this past weekend. (Trust me, having C-PTSD and carefully planning an excursion into a dark theater full of people wasn’t easy.) The new Pennywise isn’t like Tim Curry’s portrayal, where he was apt to start cracking jokes, playing on actual clown humor around the few “scary” moments where he appeared as period-specific monsters.
Bill Skarsgard’s version is childlike in nature, but he has a deep hatred for kids. You can tell from the first, and notably more infamous “Georgie” scene. The way he terrifies his victims before attacking them is almost like marinating his food just the way he likes, and when the kids are good and terrified, he’s ready to save them for hibernation time. And he does this in various forms, depending on the individual fears of that child. For instance, rather than seeing Pennywise as the wolfman, Ritchie is just afraid of clowns, and naturally gets stuck in a room full of them. This adds a bit of timelessness to the movie. But when It is ready to take them for good, he toys with the kids in an almost animalistic way, much like a lion might play with a gazelle before ripping out its throat. But when he does this, his movements, voice, and abilities to shift reality are erratic, sometimes disturbingly fast, and very unpredictable, which is ultimately what makes this Pennywise so terrifying.
Of course, after my second viewing of the new movie, I went back to watch to miniseries. I have to say, the miniseries doesn’t do the movie justice. I spent most of my time rolling my eyes at the horrid acting (aside from Curry’s portrayal) and wondering how I was actually that scared at all in the first place. But the eyes of a young child, see much differently than adults. I can’t imagine how kids will react to this movie. I’m certain I won’t be allowing my son to see it until he’s at least the same age as the Loser’s Club.
© Sarah Doughty
This was written as part of a discussion with the lovely Mandie Hines.
I think spectrums are everywhere, involving a great many things. When I started down this path of sharing my writing, I did it with the “fake it till you make it” idea in mind.
Outside of a few random pieces in high school and university, I’d never been published professionally before. But I wanted people to know I was serious about what I was doing. Yet, my confidence was very low. Showing that vulnerability wouldn’t quite be faking it, would it?
So I kept my head high and pushed through the anxiety that came with every post. Eventually, as I worked on my first novel, and my number of followers was growing, that anxiety eased. Eventually, it stopped. Several published (albeit free e-books only) books later, I feel I can safely say that I’m a writer now.
However, my confidence level hadn’t really changed much. Sure, I can see when people are just starting out, or if English isn’t their first language, but that doesn’t mean they can’t grow and learn. And when people do approach me, often on Instagram DM, they ask for advice or help because they see me as an authority figure. Or that I’m famous. A household name. But I’m no Stephen King. Even he, a repeating member of the #1 New York Times Bestseller club, says he’s the “literary equivalent of a cheeseburger and fries.” If that’s true, I’m the moldy cheese underneath a toddler’s carseat in a minivan.
I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, and I certainly don’t put myself in the category of being pretentious. There are several writers on Instagram that share parody pieces that is not only meant to insult readers, but the writers with a similar style. I cannot stand it when people do this, and I’ve spoken out against it before a few times. Art is subjective and not everyone is going to love a writer’s work. The same goes for Stephen King. Or J.K. Rowling. I see no reason why I should think I’ve hit some arbitrary milestone that makes me better than anyone else.
© Sarah Doughty
What Was Done Right: Part One
**Spoilers Ahead — proceed with caution.**
I’m back with another discussion post about the controversial TV show, Thirteen Reasons Why. If you haven’t already, feel free to read the introduction, The Problems: Parts One, Two, and Three.
From the moment the show begins, up until that last moment before the final credits roll in episode thirteen, the writers and showrunners did many things right. These things, probably more than the problems combined, are what has stirred up so much controversy and conversation.
Many of these details are things you probably didn’t notice or fully understand unless you’ve watched this show from start to finish more than once or you’ve experienced something similar. And like any good story, very little was left to chance in the final editing and production.
What really sets this show apart from most others was that there was so much more going on under the surface. Things like symbolism, hints and clues, even in the most heartbreaking of moments: the accuracy.
Today, I’m talking about the little details.
To save you the trouble, I’m going to break them down for you. If you have watched this show and choose to revisit it to recognize these for yourself, you’ll at least know where to look.
The first, and arguably the biggest of these was the differentiation between the “current” and the “past” — more specifically, when Hannah Baker was still alive. While watching, you may not have noticed the underlying theme in these time shifts. You see, it wasn’t just an indication of time. It’s a subtle reminder, but of what?
Think about it. Whenever Clay is listening or going about his post-Hannah reality, we see that not only are the days shorter and colder, but so are the colors. Did you notice that the leaves aren’t fiery reds, oranges, and browns, but more muted? Did you notice how everything is tinged with blue?
Compare that with the flashbacks of Hannah, narrating each moment that led her to take her life, the moments Clay remembered as she did so, do you see it?
Everything is more vivid, colors are alive, and the warmth is evident, especially when time shifts. You can visibly see the change. This wasn’t done by chance. And though it is helpful to differentiate time, it also shows people that the world is darker and colder without Hannah in it.
You may have also noticed that Jeff wasn’t present in any of the post-Hannah scenes, except when Clay was dreaming or hallucinating. My first time watching, I didn’t make the connection that Jeff was the other student who was lost, shortly before Hannah’s death, until tape number ten.
How about the significance of the songs that played throughout the show? Did you like the way they sounded, or did you actually listen to the lyrics? Take the very first song in episode one as we see Clay at his locker. “More Than Gravity” by Colin and Caroline is playing. Here’s a line you can hear, “I can’t love you, I’m too scared to.” Significant? You bet. Heartbreaking too, if you know the rest of the story already.
What about the throwback songs (or covers) to the era of the cassette tapes? Did you happen to notice that many of them committed suicide or they were significantly tied to people that did? Take Chromatics’ “Into The Black,” which was originally written by Neil Young. “It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” was quoted in Kurt Cobain’s suicide note.
How about “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron? “Haunted by the ghost of you” not only refers to Clay’s current state of mind as he listens to the tapes, but those moments they danced together.
Take some time and give the songs a listen and maybe look them up for their significance. You might be surprised at what you find.
Did you notice the entirety of Hannah’s published poem? As Clay reads the second half of the poem to Hannah in the Crestmont Theater, it’s clear that the poem takes a much darker turn. Try going back to episode eight and listening to the words.
How about the semicolon tattoo on Tony’s arm? Did you miss that? What about the glances and questions surrounding Jessica’s “encounter” the night of her party? Did you notice them?
In the next post, I’m going to delve a little deeper into what happens with Jessica, and how one incident can change a person forever. So stay tuned for that.
© Sarah Doughty
The Problems: Part Three
**Spoilers Ahead — proceed with caution.**
I’m back with another discussion post about the controversial TV show, Thirteen Reasons Why. If you haven’t already, feel free to read the introduction, The Problems: Parts One and Two.
In this discussion I’m going to talk about the tapes. However, this is a two-sided discussion, because there was definitely a problem, but there was something the writers and showrunners did right. I’ll discuss the latter in a later post. This one is going to center around the “revenge plot” the world is up in arms about.
In Thirteen Reasons Why, Hannah Baker goes through a series of devastating events that build up over time and eventually take away her sense of self. In reason number ten, Hannah’s thoughts start to take a turn from lonely, objectified, and dejected, to something much darker.
After that (mostly) disastrous night at Jessica’s party, Sheri offers to take a drunken Hannah home. While distracted, Sheri ends up knocking down a stop sign and then abandons Hannah when she insists on calling the police. Within the minutes it takes her to reach the Blu Spot Liquor Store, a fatal accident occurs at the same intersection.
When Hannah realizes the location of the accident, she confronts Sheri, who then warns Hannah, “Keep your mouth shut,” and informs her that they shouldn’t be seen together going forward.
Being the kind of person Hannah is (continuing to be a friend to people that continuously turn their backs on her) she stays silent about fellow classmate, Jeff’s death. But, at the same time, she begins thinking, “It was becoming more than I could live with.” And from there, with increasing conviction, she believes that all she manages to do is make lives for everyone else worse, and that the world would be a better place without her.
Reason number twelve, arguably the worst of all the other reasons leading up to her decision to make the tapes, solidified her resolve. So, Hannah begins to write down a list of names and works out all the things that happened and who was responsible for them. As she finishes mapping everything out and the puzzle becomes clear, she makes the determination, “No one would ever hurt me again.”
Having heard of countless other people talk about their thoughts after experiencing similar events at school, I can understand Hannah’s last effort to stand up for herself. The problem is that she lacks the ability to see what kind of an effect her tapes would have on other people.
The thing people have a problem understanding is that Hannah has had everything stripped from her and she feels that the people responsible need to know what they’ve done to ruin her life. But why does she think that?
Many adults seem to forget what it was like being a teenager, and how everything seemed infinite. Permanent. That’s because the frontal lobe of a teenage brain hasn’t fully formed yet. Hannah was in the same situation. She couldn’t fathom any other option. And unfortunately for her, she didn’t have anyone to tell her otherwise.
The decision to include Clay in the tapes was arguably the worst part. Leading up to not-so-reason-number-eleven, he was tortured. Even awaiting reasons twelve and thirteen, Clay faced the reality of Hannah’s proverbial final nails in her coffin. All the while, Tony continuously tells him to listen to the tapes, because, “It’s what Hannah wanted.” But, as a result, he felt constant fear and anxiety.
Even Hannah admits that Clay did nothing wrong, but she wanted him to know her reasons. Perhaps the most tragic thing she says to Clay in order to justify pushing him away is, “I would have ruined you.”
I know from my own past that if I was alone when the worst of my memories resurfaced, I don’t know how I would have survived. But more importantly, as I continue to try to push through my reality of complex PTSD, those very same thoughts pass through my head on a daily basis. I constantly question if my husband would be happier without me, because it feels as though my problems shouldn’t be his to bear as well.
As probably the only person that could have been there to change Hannah’s mind about suicide, Clay was ultimately clueless about what she was dealing with. She may not have realized how much damage she was doing to Clay, and her “revenge” on the others was her last, and she believed, only way to fight back after her death.
Right or wrong, making those tapes gave Clay — and, to a lesser extent, Tony — the chance to find some justice for her, when she couldn’t get it for herself. In a later post, I’ll discuss the other, positive side of her tapes.
© Sarah Doughty
I purchased this book at a signing and Topher Kearby was both kind and considerate to me and my family. I read the book that night and I really enjoyed the mix of typed poems, art, and poetry. Most of the poems resonated with me and I felt a deep connection with them. His unique way of expressing himself through his art is unlike anything I’ve seen before and I’m lucky to be a part of it.
5/5 Stars
© Sarah Doughty
The Problems: Part Two
**Spoilers Ahead — proceed with caution.**
I’m back with another discussion post about the controversial TV show, Thirteen Reasons Why. If you haven’t already, feel free to read the introduction here and the first discussion here.
There’s been lots of speculation over the show’s decision with Skye, Clay’s old friend — someone he hasn’t connected with in some time. As we see Skye throughout the show, we can tell she’s carrying some baggage of her own. Her tattoos, makeup, clothing, and accessories are indicative enough of her individuality. Now, we don’t know her past, but we do know that she’s been through something. Or, at least, her appearance gives us that impression.
Clay and Skye’s relationship is on unstable grounds, and he isn’t sure whether he can trust her, let alone consider her a friend.
When Clay is anxious about hearing his tape in episode eleven, Skye offers to help him with a Tarot reading. Intrigued by what she could offer him, he agrees. But as she starts to read the cards, Clay takes the offensive, which leads to an argument. Her analysis is too close for him to handle, and he thinks she is intentionally trying to provoke him.
But Skye’s appearance — those tattoos, her makeup and hair, even her accessories, clothes, and her use of Tarot cards isn’t what’s stirring up discussion and controversy. It’s what happens when Clay strikes back at her.
As Skye deals the cards, Clay notices scars. Tiny cuts, in various stages of healing along her inner wrist and forearm. A clear sign that she is what many refer to as a cutter. As he lashes out in the middle of her reading, she asks, “Why would I be jealous of a dead girl? What she did was stupid.”
In defense, Clay mentions that she didn’t know anything about Hannah.
“I know she didn’t go through anything different than any of us. We all get through it.”
Clay grabs Skye’s arm, gesturing at the cuts on her wrist, and asks, “Then what’s that?”
“It’s what you do instead of killing yourself.”
Simple answer, right? Not really.
Now, before you jump on my back and attack what I’m saying, hear me out. Since I haven’t read the book, I don’t know if Skye is in it, or if she is, if this is even a part of her storyline, but what I do know is that this show is just like fiction. Imagine if you were reading a book, would you think anything other than, “This is just one girl’s opinion.”
But that’s exactly what it is. A character is someone with his or her own thoughts, beliefs, and choices. This is Skye’s method of coping.
What has the world up in arms is the argument that the show is subtly telling teens they should cut instead of slit their wrists. Perhaps some might feel that cutting is a viable answer. It isn’t the right answer, but at least it isn’t suicide.
One (fictional) girl’s opinion doesn’t mean that the show wants anyone contemplating suicide to cut instead, though some may argue that point. But is it really that unrealistic to see one girl in high school dealing her pain in the way Skye does?
I don’t think so.
Why?
If you’re dealing with as much insecurity and ridicule as Hannah and Skye (or any other girl in high school, or victim of abuse, or sexual assualt, etc.) there’s bound to be some damaged ones dealing any way they can. Especially with people who deal with extreme levels of anxiety or fears — the kinds of emotions most cutters feel the most when they experience that urge to feel physical pain instead of emotional — it doesn’t seem that unlikely.
You see, when someone diagnosed with Non-Suicidal Self-Injury, or NSSI, feels physical pain, scans revealed a decrease in activity in the emotional centers of the brain. Feeling physical pain helps them feel better emotionally. (Source) Does this behavior mean that it’s safe to be an NSSI? Not at all.
I don’t think Netflix or the writers were wrong about Skye and her answer to Clay, but I do think it’s worth mentioning. Yes, it is a cause for concern — not for the show, and Skye’s explanation in particular, but for anyone that causes physical harm to themselves. NSSIs are statistically at an increased risk of suicide, either on purpose or by accident, and it should be stressed that individuals that harm themselves need to seek out help.
A warning at the end of this episode informing people that self-harm shouldn’t be considered a viable option and that anyone suffering from it needs to find help would suffice.
© Sarah Doughty
After introducing this series, this will serve as the first of insightful discussion posts surrounding the controversial show, Thirteen Reasons Why.
The Problems: Part One
To begin, one of my biggest issues with Thirteen Reasons Why was the lack of proper warnings. When the show was first released to Netflix, I saw the preview. It was the first thing that started to play when I opened it. And of course, it caught my attention right away. I didn’t know it was a bestselling mystery, (except that the trailer mentioned it was) nor did I know what that book was about.
It portrayed a tale about a girl that killed herself, and a question: Why would a dead girl lie? Small segments of the show played, which portrayed Hannah’s various stages of decline, but nothing about what happens to her.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” one girl says.
Then, in what appears to be a heated conversation, a boy rushes, “She was just a crazy drama queen who killed herself for attention.”
The preview goes on to indicate that they (the ones alive) are afraid of the truth. And that they should be.
When the trailer ended, I was intrigued enough to add it to my list, but I didn’t start watching right away. I was left with a sense that maybe this girl witnessed some kind of murder and her secrets were what ultimately killed her. Though my assumption wasn’t entirely wrong, I was unaware of just how much of an emotional train ride I was about to take.
After a few days, I decided it was time to start watching. From the start, we know a girl is dead as a result of suicide. This brings me to my next two issues.
From the beginning of episode one, they should have included a small warning about suicide and any other triggering issues that might arise in that particular episode, including a resource for people who might need help if the content stirred up too much emotion in them. As of my last viewing, this was not addressed, despite Netflix’s statement promising that they would do so.
The resource page listed above for people who need help was only mentioned in “Beyond The Reason” which was a short documentary that came after the show’s season finale (which includes spoilers). Three episodes included warnings at the beginning. Three. Granted, these were the hardest episodes to watch, but something should have been included in other episodes as well.
Why do I think these three things are a problem? Because people are going to start watching this show, not realizing what they’re getting into before it’s too late. By the time I started piecing together where the story was headed, I was invested in the characters. What happened? Who did what? And ultimately, what was so bad that this girl saw no other way out?
I knew it would be an emotional journey, and my past experiences of abuse had little to do with Hannah Baker’s. But there were situations I related to. There were certain aspects of Hannah’s pain that resembles mine (both then and now) in a way that I felt like I knew exactly how she felt and what was going on in certain situations. I grieved for her, not just because I could relate to how she felt, but because there are so many other girls that have experienced the same thing, or will in the future. Without a lifeline, I don’t know where I would have ended up. I could only imagine how difficult it would be for someone dealing with similar issues as Hannah in school right now, or if they’ve experienced something similar in the past.
If someone already struggling begins watching this show, they could end up in a spiral of emotions, triggers, and a sleuth of other things that comes naturally with victims and sufferers of PTSD. This is why I can’t blindly recommend that everyone should watch this show. To say so would be irresponsible and potentially dangerous.
So, yes, Netflix and the showrunners could have done a better job preparing people for what was coming. I think there’s enough buzz going around that people are more aware than I was about the show’s content, but I think those things should still be addressed.
© Sarah Doughty
