Fiction Friday: Just How Many Psychological Disorders Can One Fit Into a Children's Book?

I've got a modest collection of Eeyore beanie babies.  You know--that depressed donkey from Winnie the Pooh.  Some of them are the Disneyfied versions.  Some of them are "classic Eeyores."  Some of them are dressed up like butterflies for no apparent reason.  One of them is even dressed up like Ringo Starr, because I like Eeyore AND the Beatles.  And my dad thought I needed the whole "Bee-tles" collection of Winnie-the-Pooh beanies, complete with Paul McCartney Tigger, George Harrison Piglet, and John Lennon Winnie-the-Pooh.  Thanks, dad!  I still think they're amazing.

I still like Eeyore a lot.  People still make fun of me for it, but at least the obsession has calmed down over the years.  For one thing, I've stopped spending money on beanie baby likenesses of my favorite old gray donkey.  But I still get sort of defensive when people off-handedly say something derogatory about Eeyore.  The poor guy can't help being gloomy.  He's stuffed with sawdust (itchy).  His tail keeps falling off, and it has to be reattached with a hammer and nail (ouch).  And, let's face it, the dude is just being honest when he says that no one notices him.  If you pay attention to the original Milne, Eeyore's "friends" did overlook him quite a bit.  One of my favorite Eeyore quotes is from Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh: "One can't complain.  I have my friends.  Somebody spoke to me only yesterday."  Eeyore is also sarcastic.  I like that.

Eeyore has a right to be depressed.  I'll say this for him, though.  On Eeyore's birthday, he was bounced into the river by a very unrepentant Tigger.  His friends all forgot about his birthday.  When Pooh and Piglet finally figured out it was his birthday, Pooh went to get a pot of honey for Eeyore, while Piglet went to get him a balloon.  Well, Pooh accidentally ate all the honey (poor bear of little brain, but I'm getting ahead of myself), and Piglet accidentally broke the balloon.  You know what?  Eeyore was still thrilled with the gifts because his friends thought of him.  That's what kind of guy Eeyore is--so get off his tail.  Poor gloomy donkey has enough tail problems, doncha know.

I think Piglet is my second favorite Winnie the Pooh character, but he's not without his issues.  Piglet is severely shy and has so many phobias it's amazing that he ever leaves his house in the haycorn tree.  Then there's Tigger, the mania to Eeyore's depression.  Rabbit has control-issues and is probably obsessive compulsive.  Owl is narcissistic.  Kanga is overprotective.  Roo is just a kid, but I have my suspicions that his development has been stunted.

Then there's Pooh.  Pooh doesn't have any personality disorders.  There's a reason for this.

His head is stuffed with fluff.

We should all be so lucky.

Progress Report

I just completed chapter nine of my fourth book. I had hoped to be done with chapter ten by today, but all in all, I can't complain. I'm making pretty good progress. Conceivably, chapter ten could be the halfway point. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this book is going to have. I thought it was going to be a little shorter than its prequel, but who knows how long-winded I might become in the next few chapters.

I'm learning a lot, though. Since I haven't worked on a brand new book-length project in several months, I'm really relearning how much I enjoy writing. It's truly what I enjoy doing most; it's what I was meant to do. When you find that one thing, it's just...wow! No words to describe it. It's like the planets aligning or something. It's like in the movie "Chariots of Fire" when the main character is talking about how when he runs, he feels God's pleasure. I know what he means. When I write, it's like I can feel God's good pleasure just coursing through me. It's not something I'm necessarily intentionally writing or doing at the moment to glorify God. There's nothing anyone can necessarily look at and say, "Yes, I can see how you're spreading the love and truth of Christ here in this writing" (although I hope that I am). It's just that process, that moment when something beautiful is being created, that I believe makes the angels stop and say, "Whoa...." It's just glorifying to God because it's something He's doing in me...wow, in me...and that something is good. Mmm.

And I'm relating to my characters and feeling their emotions and hurting with them in their pain. And that's just something awesome to me. Again, writers just have a glimpse of what it must be like to be God. We know what's happening to our characters. We feel their pain, we care, but still make them go through it. We know that they have to go through the pain to get to the resolution, and what's on the other side of that resolution is better than what they had before. If our characters were alive and aware that their lives were being written, they would probably have some trouble trusting the author.

And I have trouble trusting the Author.

I've been reading a lot of posts on Twitter and some other places about books. Plus, I've been reading a lot. The book I'm working on and its prequel are both what I'd classify as YA Fantasies. What's trending in YA right now is what I consider to be a lot of fluff. And I'm not a fluffy writer. I like for my writing to have purpose and integrity. While I do try to make what I write fun (I DO like kissing books), I just don't like to be overgratuitous. The story and the characters are what I focus on the most, not the fluff.

And my fear is that my books just aren't going to do well because they aren't fluffy.

But I need to put that fear aside and do what I know I'm meant to do. This story I've been writing, this non-fluffy story, has been a source of pleasure. I believe it to be good pleasure. I believe it to be God's pleasure. And if God's good pleasure is the only thing that comes out of the writing of this story, then that is sufficient. I just have to trust Him with the rest of it.

After all, He's a much better Author than I am.