Monday, August 30, 2010

Creativity challenge: Thunder mountain

I have two hours until I start working again, and I want to spend that time writing a non-fiction PB that I've been researching.  I also need to get that magazine article in the post... which means that I'm cheating today, because I've already posted this (for the Weather Blogfest), but it's my offering for the current creativity challenge. I wrote the scene for both the blogfest and the challenge, so it is not part of a WIP, although I plan to expand on it and turn it into a short story.

If you wrote something based on the image prompt, please put a link to your blog in the comments (or email it to me at anpstevens [at] gmail [dot] com, and I'll post it for you).


One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. The trees trembled and the ground vibrated.

Sammie cursed. It was getting closer. No storms for two months, and the day she and Tex went hiking, the thunderstorms were right on top of them.

Sammie looked at the hillside, trying to find a good place to shelter. No hope for caves. These mountains were too young for that.

Nothing here would do. She scanned the hill on the other side of the stream and saw what she was looking for.

“Tex.” Sammie turned to look for him, but he’d disappeared. Unbelievable.

“Tex! Where the hell are you?”

Another flash. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, thr—

The thunder rolled across the mountain like a wave. As if on cue, rain began pelting down from the sky.

Sammie tugged her hood over her head and scrambled up the hillside.

“Tex!”

“Here.” Sammie heard the call to her right. She found him lying in a ditch.

“What are you doing? Get up.” She grabbed his arm and tugged. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Tex pulled his arm back and shook his head. “Ditches are safe during storms.”

“Dammit, Tex, there won’t be any tornados. Lightning.” Sammie pointed up. “Think lightning.”

Tex half-rolled to see where Sammie was pointing. He scrambled to his feet.

“Don’t hide next to the tallest tree on the mountain,” Sammie said. She turned and headed downhill.

Tex caught up with her. “Where are we going?” She could hear the tremor in his voice.

She pointed. “There. Come o—”

The bolt of lightning was close. The trees threw long shadows before them and the ozone stung Sammie’s nose. One one-thousand, two—

Thunder hit like a sonic boom and made them both jump.

“Hurry!” Sammie said. They slid down the hill toward the stream, the ground slick with rain and mud. The stream was flowing fast, now: miniature rapids tearing around the rocks.

Sammie jumped across, landed on a rock, and slipped. Her knee cracked against the rock. Tex landed next to her and helped her up.

Limping, leaning against him, Sammie guided Tex toward the aspen grove.

She paused at the edge. Tex tried to pull her in. “We’re almost there. Let’s go.”

Sammie shook her head as she pulled off her rings.

“Take off your belt,” she said.

Tex stared at her. “What?”

“Take it off.” Sammie tugged the earrings out of her ears. “Do it, Tex. No metal.”

Tex fumbled with the buckle on his belt. His fingers were slippery from the rain.

“Here,” Sammie said. She undid the belt and yanked it free. She dropped it on the ground next to her mud-splattered jewelry. Then she shrugged out of her pack and left it, too.

Tex followed suit and they scrambled to the center of the aspen grove.

“Don’t sit, just crouch down.” Tex did as Sammie said.

Sammie’s knee wouldn’t bend. She stuck her injured leg to one side and crouched low on the other, head down to keep the rain out of her eyes.

Moments later, the world turned purple-white and Sammie heard sizzling. An instant later, thunder ripped the sky open. Sammie’s teeth chattered with the vibration that ran through everything: the trees, her bones, the mountain itself.

Sammie’s ears rang from the thunder. The scent of ozone was sharp, but as it faded, Sammie noticed a pungent note. Like a campfire. She looked at Tex, confused.

He was looking over her shoulder. “Fire,” he said.

Sammie turned to see flames at the edge of the grove.

* * *

Feedback and criticism are welcome!

And don't forget to enter my contest! Random.org will choose a winner on Wednesday morning.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Prodigies and Late Bloomers

I just finished reading What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell. Unlike his other books, this one is a compendium of some of his New Yorker pieces.

I was particularly interested in the one about Late Bloomers. Gladwell describes the fascination our culture holds for creative prodigies: the Picassos, Mozarts, and Kieron Williamsons of the world. These are the people who sit down and create a masterpiece in their first attempt. But are we all destined to be creative failures if we don't possess that edge early in life?

Gladwell says no. He discusses Cézanne, whose work improved with time. Cézanne required the steadfast support and encouragement of close friends to reach his creative potential.

The same is true of artists, writers, and creatives of all kinds. Gladwell calls late bloomers "experimental innovators." They are the people who need to experience things, often multiple times, before their ideas become clear. Experimental innovators are the people who spend years rewriting and revising, modifying and altering their work until it shines.

Do you see yourself as an early- or late-bloomer?

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Transitions

I am feeling very out of sorts this week. My world seems to be in flux, and I can't quite catch my balance. I find myself taking deep breaths... apparently I'm forgetting to breathe properly.

Boss Man at his new school, Snuggle Monkey in his new kindergarten group, the end of summer and the start of a new school year (for me) just around the corner. News that one of my closest friends will likely be moving away.

Writing-wise, I have a non-fiction PB manuscript that is finished and ready to submit, and a magazine article that is similarly ready to go. But I feel as though I'm standing on a precipice. I just can't seem to make myself jump from the safety of what was to the unknown of what comes next.

I have every intention of submitting these things before I start teaching next week, but I can't seem to make myself do it. I'm not sure why that is. Perhaps its the security of knowing it can't be rejected if I don't send it. Perhaps it's just too much in a week filled with emotional turmoil.

I know the rejections will come. I know they are a part of the business of writing. And I'm okay with that.

So how do I get through this week of transition? I suppose the best way to start is to take another deep breath, polish up the cover letters, and head over to the post office.

How do you deal with uncertainty? 

* * *

(And did you enter my contest? Ends Sept. 1!)

Monday, August 23, 2010

Celebration!! Contest!! (and did I mention chocolate?)

Last week, my family celebrated the four-year anniversary of our move to Germany. Today, Boss Man went off to school... he was little more than a baby when we moved here. To top it all off, we managed to jump through numerous hurdles and have the official permission of the government to stay a little longer.
Official translations of documents that were never looked at: €110

Offices from which we needed official documents that were on a 6-week summer holiday: 1

Hours of sleep lost worrying about the above: at least 10

Hours of sleep lost due to 5 AM wake-up time to make it to our appointment: 2

Knowing we won't be kicked out of the country: PRICELESS

And how shall we celebrate this momentous occasion? With a contest!!!

A while back, I posted a review about the fabulous MG novel The Pasta Detectives by best-selling German author Andreas Steinhöfel. (Don't worry, you don't have to read German, it's in English, wonderfully translated by Chantal Wright.) The winner will receive the book PLUS some German chocolate. Not the super-sugary "German" chocolate they sell in the U.S., but the REAL THING.

What do you need to do?
  1. Comment below, so I know you want to win.
  2. Spread the word (on your blog, via twitter, whatever... if you tweet, be sure to include @alisonpstevens so I can see it; if you mention on your blog, please include a link in your comment). 
  3. For an extra entry, follow this blog.
  4. For yet another extra entry, follow me on twitter.
  5. On September 1, I will use random.org to choose a winner.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Window of Insight #4: Chris Guillebeau

Time for another window of insight. This month, I interviewed the remarkable founder of The Art of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau.  Chris lives an "unconventional life" and dedicates his life to helping others do the same. So how does the creative process inform his work?  Read on to find out...

1. How do you describe the work that you do?

I’m a writer, traveler, and entrepreneur who helps people live unconventional lives.

2. Did you set out to create guides to living an unconventional life, or did they come about unexpectedly?

It was an organic process. I started writing the AONC blog, and a bunch of people had a bunch of questions. For example, I’m on a quest to visit every country in the world, so naturally I fly a lot. Everyone asked how much I paid for tickets and how I was able to hack the system... so I wrote a guide. The same was true with self-employment and starting a microbusiness.

3. You have given the Unconventional Guides rather extraordinary names (A Brief Guide to World Domination, Build an Empire). What inspired them?

A good name evokes a good story. With World Domination, that is a free manifesto that outlines the way I see the world and how I think people can rise above some common challenges. With Empire Building Kit, the goal is to help people build a business in one year by doing one thing every day.

4. In a broader sense, what are your primary sources of inspiration? (for your work, travels, life)

I lived in West Africa for four years as a volunteer for a medical charity, and think often of the people that are still serving there while I’m traveling the world and drinking coffee. I’m also inspired by my readers — they have helped the project become much more significant than it initially was.

5. Can you describe how the creative process works for you? How does it contribute to your business? To your life?

I try to establish creativity as a guiding value. It’s like healthy eating or exercise — once you establish good lifestyle patterns, you can fall out of them for a day or two and it’s OK. But beyond that, you’re going to feel bad and begin craving the healthy lifestyle again. So the same is true with creativity — every day I think, what am I going to deliver today? What will be different at the end of the day compared to the beginning? And so on — it’s a good kind of addiction, I think.

6. What is the most challenging part of the creative (entrepreneurial) process for you?

Avoiding distractions. Wait, what was that again...?

7. What is the most rewarding part of the creative process?

1) Completing something, even something small — it’s always nice to get something out the door.

2) Hearing from readers about how something I’ve done has affected their lives in a positive way. It’s hard to beat that!

8. At what point do you feel that you have succeeded with a creative endeavor?

Well, I don’t like to rest on success — I think it’s important to always keep looking ahead to the next thing. So when I’m done with an endeavor, I’m already thinking about the next one. But having said that, what I mentioned above about getting good feedback from readers or customers — that definitely has an element of success to it.

9. Anything else you would like to add?

Thanks so much for featuring AONC! I’m grateful and appreciative.

###

My pleasure, Chris.  Thanks for providing so many people with so much inspiration.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Finding your top idea

By Reg Lynch; The Sydney Morning Herald
I haven't had poetry popping into my head of late. I think it's because I've been focusing on writing prose, in the form of a MG novel. My head can only deal with one writing format at a time.

I had noticed that poems almost always popped into my head while I was in the shower or just after getting out of the shower. For a while I thought the poetry muse liked the bathroom, in general (maybe because it's the one place where I get a few minutes to myself?). Then I thought it might be the hair dryer (lots of ideas came then, too).

But the poetry muse has been very quiet of late, and I've had other things popping in my head, like the idea for my entry into the weather blogfest. That scene quite literally appeared in my mind while I was in the shower. One could argue that water raining down on me triggered it, but I don't think that's it. You see, I had been thinking quite a lot about the weather.

(Lamenting it, really... I love a good thunderstorm, and the weather where I live is monotonous. Day in and day out of the same thing. It's either weeks of sun without a cloud in the sky, weeks of gray clouds without a hint of sun, or weeks of rain. Where I grew up, we got a little bit of everything every single day. The monotony makes me crazy.)

Paul Graham (software developer, programmer, investor, and all-around highly successful creative person) argues that whatever you think about in the shower is the top idea in your mind. It's the thing your brain is playing with, turning over, working at from various angles. It's the problem you will solve. The light bulb flash that will come to you out of the blue. The solution may not come then, but whatever you are contemplating in the shower is what consumes the neuronal pathways in your brain.

Rather exciting idea, really. Like being handed the keys to the kingdom. But it comes with warning: "be careful what you let become critical to you. Try to get yourself into situations where the most urgent problems are ones you want to think about." I think we could broaden this to say, try to get yourself into situations where your creative projects (or serious problems that require solving) are the things you think about.

Obsessing over a negative critique you received? You're not alone, it happens to the best of us (see Graham's Top Idea article for more about how it affected Isaac Newton). But perhaps the most selfish thing you can do for yourself is to let it go.

Nothing can be done to change it. All you do is damage yourself by carefully plotting out the various ways you could inflict pain (real or psychological) on the offender. Satisfying in the short-term. Detrimental over the long-term.

Wouldn't it be more satisfying to let it go, free your brain to come up with something that fixes the flaws, and carry out the new idea? To succeed by overcoming the problems so-and-so highlighted for you? I think so.

What was your top idea today? And how do you keep your mind focused on the ideas you want to think about?

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Weatherfest entry

I don't usually blog on weekends, but I happened upon the Weatherfest at A Little Slice of Nothing last night. Given that my current creativity challenge prompt is a storm, I couldn't resist. 


* * *

One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. The trees trembled and the ground vibrated.

Sammie cursed. It was getting closer. No storms for two months, and the day she and Tex went hiking, the thunderstorms were right on top of them.

Sammie looked at the hillside, trying to find a good place to shelter. No hope for caves. These mountains were too young for that.

Nothing here would do. She scanned the hill on the other side of the stream and saw what she was looking for.

“Tex.” Sammie turned to look for him, but he’d disappeared. Unbelievable.

“Tex! Where the hell are you?”

Another flash. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, thr—

The thunder rolled across the mountain like a wave. As if on cue, rain began pelting down from the sky.

Sammie tugged her hood over her head and scrambled up the hillside.

“Tex!”

“Here.” Sammie heard the call to her right. She found him lying in a ditch.

“What are you doing? Get up.” She grabbed his arm and tugged. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Tex pulled his arm back and shook his head. “Ditches are safe during storms.”

“Dammit, Tex, there won’t be any tornados. Lightning.” Sammie pointed up. “Think lightning.”

Tex half-rolled to see where Sammie was pointing. He scrambled to his feet.

“Don’t hide next to the tallest tree on the mountain,” Sammie said. She turned and headed downhill.

Tex caught up with her. “Where are we going?” She could hear the tremor in his voice.

She pointed. “There. Come o—”

The bolt of lightning was close. The trees threw long shadows before them and the ozone stung Sammie’s nose. One one-thousand, two—

Thunder hit like a sonic boom and made them both jump.

“Hurry!” Sammie said. They slid down the hill toward the stream, the ground slick with rain and mud. The stream was flowing fast, now: miniature rapids tearing around the rocks.

Sammie jumped across, landed on a rock, and slipped. Her knee cracked against the rock. Tex landed next to her and helped her up.

Limping, leaning against him, Sammie guided Tex toward the aspen grove.

She paused at the edge. Tex tried to pull her in. “We’re almost there. Let’s go.”

Sammie shook her head as she pulled off her rings.

“Take off your belt,” she said.

Tex stared at her. “What?”

“Take it off.” Sammie tugged the earrings out of her ears. “Do it, Tex. No metal.”

Tex fumbled with the buckle on his belt. His fingers were slippery from the rain.

“Here,” Sammie said. She undid the belt and yanked it free. She dropped it on the ground next to her mud-splattered jewelry. Then she shrugged out of her pack and left it, too.

Tex followed suit and they scrambled to the center of the aspen grove.

“Don’t sit, just crouch down.” Tex did as Sammie said.

Sammie’s knee wouldn’t bend. She stuck her injured leg to one side and crouched low on the other, head down to keep the rain out of her eyes.

Moments later, the world turned purple-white and Sammie heard sizzling. An instant later, thunder ripped the sky open. Sammie’s teeth chattered with the vibration that ran through everything: the trees, her bones, the mountain itself.

Sammie’s ears rang from the thunder. The scent of ozone was sharp, but as it faded, Sammie noticed a pungent note. Like a campfire. She looked at Tex, confused.

He was looking over her shoulder. “Fire,” he said.

Sammie turned to see flames at the edge of the grove.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Writing, revising, and a great resource

I have been absorbing a phenomenal amount of information from WriteOnCon. And I couldn't have done it without the support of Beloved Husband, who came home early to watch the boys so that I could "attend" the conference.(Thank you!)

At one point over the last three days, I realized that the last conference I attended was a scientific conference, and everyone was discussing animals. Ha! What a transition!

And that got me thinking about the differences between writing as a scientist and writing for a more general audience. There are the obvious differences in terms of how the subjects are broached, and the appropriate words one should use in the two formats (jargon, anyone?). But what really strikes me is the different attitudes regarding revision.

Every scientist I know approaches writing with the attitude that if you can get something on paper, you can revise it (i.e., the hard part is getting something down). But I get the sense from the creative writing community that writers consider getting something down the easy part, whereas revisions are a dreaded task. (Perhaps this is because revising requires acknowledging that your creative effort didn't measure up? I'm guessing here, I really don't know.)

I like both the creating and the revising. I know that what I wrote can always be better, and it's like a puzzle trying to figure out just how to say it better (fortunately, I love puzzles) . Sometimes, it literally requires re-ordering sentences or words, as happened with an article I recently wrote. Everything was there, but the order was all wrong... but when you get it right, everything clicks.

* * *

On a related note, there are a couple of great resources for anyone interested in science. Nature Publishing Group has put together two online educational journals. Scitable (which has been out for a while) focuses on genetics. Last week, they launched Nature Education Knowledge, which focuses on ecology.

The articles are written and reviewed by scientists, and they are written at the level of the college undergrad (that's right, ladies and gentlemen... you can actually understand what they say).

The fabulous editor, Sara Tenney, is working hard to increase the number of articles available, so keep checking back. If you need to do some genetics or ecology research for your WIP, you can't go wrong with these journals.

* * *

Which do you prefer: writing or revising? Why?

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

WriteOnCon

I am happily immersed in the amazing online writer's conference, WriteOnCon.  Haven't checked it out? It's chock-a-block with great information for those who write KidLit (the conference is rated MC-18: main character under 18).

Elana Johnson,Casey McCormick, Lisa and Laura Roecker, Shannon Messenger, and Jamie Harrington did an amazing job recruiting authors, agents, and editors. If you don't follow them, you should.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Laying the groundwork

We went to the German-American Folksfest last week. It reminded me of the Midway at the Minnesota State Fair. Lots of rides, games, and sweets (but no cheese curds). A mini-amusement park.

The amazing thing is, the Folksfest comes together out of nothing. Most of the year, the "plaza" where it takes place is nothing but an open field. Occasionally, a circus comes to town, but there's nothing but bare ground for a good chunk of the year.

It got me thinking about how, in many ways, the festival is similar to creativity. The first thing we have to do is lay the groundwork. For the Folksfest, this involves quite literally putting down a layer of rocks and setting out the paths along which attendees will walk. People run power cords and water lines. All of this takes place long before a single kiosk or ride arrives on its 18-wheeler.

Writing and other creative processes are, in many ways, similar. Before we can begin to create a new world, we must lay the groundwork. Prepare the stone to be carved, whitewash the canvas, find names for characters and a realistic setting in which to place our stories.

Only after the groundwork is firmly established can we really begin to tackle the fun part--the act of creating something new and different. Something to tantalize the senses and stimulate the mind. And, one hopes, something that the audience will remember with fondness.

How do you begin a new creative project?

Friday, August 6, 2010

Poetry Friday: Four Brown Toes

We are at the end of week one of the staycation, and it's been a lot of fun. Lots of good mom-kid time, and the imaginations have been running wild.

This morning, I looked over to see a storm bird and a flying fire lizard rising from the ground—pretty powerful imagery. Just the kind of thing my mind runs with (so don't be surprised to see something about a storm bird or a flying fire lizard in an upcoming Creativity Challenge).

So my kid-inspired poem for this Poetry Friday is...

Four Brown Toes
by Alison Pearce Stevens

What's that, you say? It's time for bed?
But I don't want to go.
Not past the chair or up the stair
I'd rather stay below.

I'll stay here on the sofa, no
my feet won't touch the floor.
There is no way, simply NO way
that you'll get me through that door.

So come and sit and read with me,
I've got my favorite book,
the one with knights and dragons,
come sit here, let's take a look.

I'd like to sit—
no, wait! Now, STOP!
You CAN'T sit over there!
He'll eat you up! I see him...
there's a MONSTER 'neath the chair!

Look there, a foot with four brown toes.
He waits for you to sit.
What ARE you doing?
DON'T REACH IN!
Oh. There's my baseball mitt.

All right, if you say so,
then I guess it's time for bed.
Just another silly monster
that was living in my head.


My blogging (and blog reading/commenting) time has been limited, since I've spent my precious computer time writing. But I'll make a special point to check out the Poetry Friday posts. You can find this week's round-up at Laura's blog Author Amok.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Staycation writing schedule

We are now three days into our three-week staycation: all the family time of a vacation without actually going anywhere. I'm actually excited about it, but I was making great progress with my WIP last week, and I've been worried that I'll lose my momentum.

So I decided to implement a staycation writing schedule. This involves getting up at 5:30 am, drinking excessive amounts of coffee, and writing as much as I can until the kids wake up.

Sounds like a brilliant idea, right? This is how my mornings have been going so far...

Alarm: beep-beep  beep-beep  beep-beep

Me: *reaches out to find watch that functions as my alarm*

Alarm: beep-beep  beep-beep  beep-beep

Beloved Husband: *shoves head under pillow*

Me: *knocks watch off of nightstand*

Alarm: beep-beep  beep-beep  beep-beep

Me: *curses and fishes around next to bed for the watch*

BH: *from under pillow* Turn it OFF!

Alarm: *silent*

Me: *still searching for the watch* *grateful it stops beeping after one minute*

BH: *mumbles something unintelligible*

Me: I'll just lie here for another minute or two.

Snuggle Monkey: Wake up, Mama!

Me: *notices daylight* *looks at clock* *groans*


Okay, so the idea was good, but the execution needs a bit of work.

How do you find time to write?

Monday, August 2, 2010

Perseverance

This is something I've been thinking about for a while, and since Donna Hole is hosting a Milestones blogfest, it seemed appropriate to post it now.

* * *

One of the things I keep seeing from successful writers is the importance of being persistent. Of not giving up. Writing's not easy, at least not writing well, and it's the ability to keep writing, keep revising that separates the professionals from the amateurs.

To be honest, the idea scared me. How could I be a successful writer if I had to be persistent?

I've always given up on things easily, haven't I? I mean, I cycled through after-school activities like a kid in a theme park, staying with each ride just long enough to see how it felt. If it wasn't just right, I moved on.

Did I have it in me to be persistent? Would I give up if it wasn't easy?

I was afraid of my inability to persevere.

But last Monday, I wrote a post about my husband, and writing that post reminded me of the trials I went through to finish my post-graduate work. I realized that I can persevere when I want to.

After all, when you invest two years researching the hormonal control of reproduction of southern hemisphere birds (sounds dry, I know, but it's actually pretty interesting*), only to have an outbreak of avian malaria kill a number of your research subjects (and the ones that live aren't particularly interested in reproducing), it's pretty devastating.

Two years of my life gone. Nothing to show for it. Not one step closer to finishing my degree. It was like looking down a long tunnel and feeling myself get further and further away from the light at the end. It started to look like a pinprick.

To complicate matters, Beloved (soon-to-be) Husband got an offer for a post-doc. We were planning to get married and move together after finishing our degrees. But he had collected notebooks full of data and published at least two chapters of his dissertation, while I had nothing.

I had a long heart-to-heart with my advisor, and we decided that the only way I could salvage things was to use his 30-year record of behavior. I could sit in a little room, analyzing film and video, and do something completely different from what I wanted to do.

But it would let me finish my degree.

The next morning, I was at our field site, videotaping birds when an unfamiliar car drove up. There was only one access rode to our aviaries (yep, that's where the idea for my challenge offering came from), so they had to be there intentionally.

A good friend hopped out of the passenger side and headed for the observation blind where I was working. I climbed down the steps to see her face pinched with worry.

"Sunshine," she said. "Frank's dead." 

For a moment, the world ceased to spin. My advisor, who I had met with justthe day before, died of a heart attack only three hours after I left his office. He got in his car and his heart gave out.

So there I was, no advisor, only his collection of film and video to get me through a Ph.D. project (something that should take three years to complete), and I had one year in which to grieve, pull myself together, and make something out of nothing.

But I did.

I spent god-knows how many hours sitting in that room analyzing video. It got old, it was tiresome, but something in me drove me to finish it.

At my dissertation defense, I expected to pass--after all, how can you fail the student who's had absolutely everything go wrong? But I also expected my committee to feel that I had scraped by.

Imagine my surprise when they were excited about my findings, when they thought that what I had done contributed valuable information to the field.

It made my success so much more meaningful.

* In case you are interested: In the northern hemisphere, most birds migrate for the winter. To make long-distance flight easier, their gonads (testes and ovaries) shrink to almost nothing. In spring, when the days start getting longer, they increase in size in preparation for breeding.

In the southern hemisphere, animals may be nomadic, but they generally don't migrate. No need to, since it doesn't get cold enough to lock up food and water under a blanket of snow. Birds in the southern hemisphere can breed year-round, and I was interested in the hormonal control of their breeding cycles and parental care (some fathers care for the young, others don't, and I wanted to know if hormones influenced the difference).

What helps you to persevere?