Author: Belinda O

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Time and Talent

Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned

AdobeStock_130629499 pngThat’s the full quote, from William Congreve, a popular playwright from the late 17th-early 18th centuries. Specifically, it’s from his 1697 play, The Mourning Bride. (It’s also the play with the quote “Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,” frequently misquoted as “beast.”) Suffice to say, Mr. Congreve knew a little about human nature. “No rage like love to hatred turned” is well understood by every divorce lawyer in this country, if not the world.

We count on playwrights and fiction authors of every genre to tell us tales we can relate to, even if they’re set in some sort of alternate reality. It takes time and talent to develop those skills. Each author has his or her voice, or a collective voice when there are multiple authors. It’s not something AI can duplicate, as I’ve discovered through my writing group.

We did some experimenting with AI, and the results surprised–and pleased–me. While the same story might have been told, it wasn’t with the same voice. It was flat and, frankly, sounded like a mass market novel, not something original. Now, I know AI can be tweaked to come closer to that reality. But there is still room for the talented writer.

I understand, however, why the screenwriters are so concerned. So much of their voice is subject to interpretation by actors anyway. AI may come closer to mimicking their work with some skill. But it can’t truly do the job. Not yet. After all, AI pulls from work that’s already been created. Can it create plot twists? Political satire? I don’t know, and to a great extent, I don’t care.

As a writer myself, I sympathize with the screenwriters and wish them well in their negotiations. It’s more than just AI, of course, and I believe they’re trying to get ahead of the game with that one. The other issues they’re dealing with are apparently numerous, including fair pay.

AdobeStock_284900920 [Converted] smThe next time you watch TV, send a silent thanks to the writers and recognize their worth in the world of entertainment. The good ones will be quoted for a long time, because they know what makes us tick. And like I said, that takes time and talent.

Image Credits: Broken Heart © Galyna_P–stock.adobe.com; Television © Irene–stock.adobe.com

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Rest in Peace, Gordon Lightfoot

My mom–and others–have told me that one of the hardest parts about getting older is losing friends and others you grew up with, including celebrities. Gordon Lightfoot was another of my mom’s most loved performers. Here’s her favorite song of his.

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Pride Cometh Before a Fall

Watch out, Walter.  You look pretty proud of yourself, but that pillow is about to slide right off the ottoman! 

Proud Walter

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Image Credits: Cesar Cat © Belinda O; Paws in Heart © Bigstock; Peekaboo Kitty © Crazy nook–stock.adobe.com

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Rest In Peace, Harry Belafonte

Nobody had a bigger musical influence on my childhood than Harry Belafonte. What’s more, his activism was a part of my understanding of the world around me. Not to mention, my mom had a crush on him that lasted decades.

Not sure who he was? Chances are you’ll recognize this iconic song. But look up some others–“Man Smart, Woman Smarter” or “Jamaica Farewell.”

Rest in peace. Your influence lives on.

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Drive!

For more than twenty years, my sister Beth has been pretty much out of contact with the family, and for the last seven or eight, we’ve had no way to reach her. But she is on our minds on a daily basis.

Some days, the memories are stronger than others.

Beth was the one who taught me how to drive a standard, to drive with a clutch. Today that isn’t as big a deal, given that most cars are automatic anyway, but at the time, it was the difference between spending $4,000 for a new car, or more than $5,000.  A 25 percent increase in cost. I’d just bought my first new car, and it cost me about $4,000. Problem was, I couldn’t handle the clutch.

My parents had spent three years teaching their children to drive, and they were weary of it. So my sister, who’s a year younger than me, took over. Patiently, she took me out on the roads around our home. They were hilly and winding, perfect for learning how to drive a four-speed.

If you’ve ever tried it, driving a standard takes practice.  It’s a challenge to get the timing of releasing the clutch and hitting the gas just right. You stall one hundred times for every time you inch forward. You fail and fail, then one day, you get it. It finally just works. My sister stayed with me until I reached that point.

She was seventeen, I was eighteen. We weren’t best friends, like some sisters are, but we were loyal to each other.  I hope she knows I’m still on her side. No matter what, she is my sister, and I love her.

And I’m forever grateful for knowing how to drive a standard, even though I don’t expect I’ll ever do much of it again.  It’s power.

Image Credit: © Vclav–stock.adobe.com