Tag Archives: Brian Jacques

In Memoriam W. Tim Bartlett, Jr.

Tim photo

It was two years ago that my beloved Mr. Brian Jacques passed away. Now, I find myself saying goodbye to another man with a more personal connection to my life.

For the past twenty-eight years, my mother has worked with Mr. W. “Tim” Bartlett, Jr., owner of Bartlett’s restaurant in Austin. Since I last posted, I began working part-time at the restaurant as a greeter, but I grew up knowing Mr. Bartlett more as a friend than as a boss.

On the morning of February 2, 2013, Tim passed away peacefully in his sleep at only 61 years of age. I had spoken to him less than 24 hours before my mom broke the news to me on Saturday morning, and– needless to say– the announcement has been quite a blow to all of us at the restaurant.

Mr. Bartlett was “the best boss in the world,” according to many who have worked under his command, and I can personally attest that he has always taken care of not just my mom for her service to his business, but everyone who makes up the larger Bartlett’s family. Despite being the owner of a successful, upscale restaurant, Tim was always present in his place of business, never above helping out with a broom and dustpan or personally attending to his regular guests who came to support their favorite local restaurateur. Just a few weeks ago, while I was in the process of buying my first car, Tim was only too eager to connect me with his used-car dealer friend, even offering to go look at vehicles with me.

The suddenness of Tim’s death is, I think, both a blessing and a curse: the former because he was up and about in his restaurant, chatting with regulars just the day before he went instead of languishing through a terminal illness; the latter because of his youth and our inability to properly bid him adieu.

Mr. Bartlett’s death has reminded me of this quote by William Penn, founder of the colony of Pennsylvania:

“I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness or abilities that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

I am happy to say that in all the years I knew him, Tim embodied this philosophy to a “T.” His passing has reminded me of the fragility of life and its fleetingness, of the words we will hear next week on Ash Wednesday that “you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” and of the importance of doing our very best, expressing our love, and living our lives with energy and passion as did Mr. Bartlett.

Thank you, Tim, for everything. We will miss you even while your spirit carries on in the restaurant that bears your name here below, but I can’t wait to join you with the best of company at the eternal feast soon.

You can read Mr. Bartlett’s obituary in the Austin-American Statesman here.

Theme and Vocation: The Heart of Your Story

It’s funny how life often tends to resemble some sort of serendipitous collision. I’m always amazed by how so many seemingly disparate elements of my day to day reality will suddenly coalesce, or how something I’ve read recently will reflect in a conversation I have with someone completely unrelated to that topic.

For example, I just got off the phone with my brother, who is studying as a seminarian, and we were talking about our respective vocations. Ordinarily, this would not seem to relate to my writing, but my conversation with him sparked a couple of thoughts about the concept of vocation and how important it is to writing.

Firstly, I was explaining to him how I am certain that I am called to be a writer since it has been with me from my infancy. I began reading earlier than most children, I have always possessed a verbose streak, and I even began making attempts at storytelling as soon as I was able to make some marks on a page. Throughout my childhood, I reveled in the fantasy worlds of the books I read, whether it was The Hardy Boys, Jules Verne’s classics 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Around the World in 80 Days, Brian Jacques’ beloved Redwall series, or The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings when I was older. To put it simply, I have always wanted to share with other people the joy I experienced from reading.

As an extension of that desire, I admitted to my brother that even when I have gone for long stretches (even months at a time) where I do no creative writing, the nagging itch to write has always remained with me. In fact, I actually feel out-of-sorts and “off” when I don’t write, yet when I do make some progress on any WIP I have going, I feel more balanced and peaceful overall. You’d think that after such experiences, I would strive harder to actually live up to my vocation by making writing a higher priority, but unfortunately, writing countless term papers for school often leaves my brain devoid of any desire to write further. However, this realisation has inspired me to firm my resolution to make time regularly to write just for me, whether it’s blogging or working on a WIP.

Actually, today I was fortunate to have some time to myself, and I made some significant progress on The Shards– not by adding more prose to the draft, but by tackling a fundamental issue I had neglected: nailing my themes.

Theme is crucial to good storytelling. Ultimately, we tell stories to convey deeper truths about our own reality. Yes, we read books and watch movies to be entertained, but as a species, we humans have always told stories to inspire and encourage each other in the midst of a difficult existence. We don’t know how our own stories will end because we have not yet reached that point, but we draw courage and hope from the tales of heroes like ourselves whose endings we do know.

While no one likes a preachy tale, we reject stories that have no point, who serve no greater good than to pass a few of our already fleeting moments in this life. Rather, we hunger for stories that reassure our deeply held beliefs and confirm our own experiences. Theme is what you, as a writer have to say to your readers.

When you examine your themes, you can’t help but notice how they are tied to your characters’ own vocations. To be real and really resonate with your audience, your characters themselves must have their own vocations. For us to relate to them, they, too, must be inexorably drawn to a particular fulfillment or goal. When you know what your characters’ callings are, then you’re really getting to the heart of your story.

For a long time in my own life, I have focused on the logical progression of my actions. I am always holding myself above life, weighing my options, paralysed with incertitude, unsure of what I was truly called to and what I wanted to say.

Similarly, in my writing, I have focused far too much on plotting logically progressive events, hovering above the story instead of taking a chance and entering into it (including emotionally) which— more often than not— ended with me throwing up my hands in frustration and becoming stuck.

The key is to stop overanalysing life and to actually live it, including taking a calculated risk and staking yourself on a concrete claim.

Amor omnia vincit.

Hard work pays off.

“Even the smallest of us can change the course of the future.”

Suffering, far from destroying us, has the power to redeem us.

Etc.

So what if you’re wrong? There is no point to perpetually sizing up your options unless you eventually choose one of them. Why even tell a story unless you have something to say? And you’ll know what you want to say and how you want to say it when you realise your own vocation and those of your characters. Instead of a merely episodic series of events, now, you will have a story with heart and one which will, hopefully, resonate with the hearts of your audience, as well.

Farewell to Brian Jacques

Brian Jacques

This week, I am going to switch Fantasy Friday and Writing Wednesday due to the heartbreaking news I received this morning. On February 5, Brian Jacques, author of the Redwall series, passed away from a heart attack.

His death touches me deeply, as it was Mr. Jacques who inspired my love for reading in elementary school. I have been reading for almost as long as I could talk, but it was the discovery of his books in third grade that really ignited my passion for literature and writing.

Now, I know that Mr. Jacques himself did not like Redwall to be labeled as “fantasy.” According to him, “It smacks of swords and sorcery and dungeons and dragons, and this is not at all the feeling of my books. I like to think of [them] as old-fashioned adventures that happened ‘once upon a time, long ago and far away’; in fact, good yarns is how I describe them.”

And rollicking good yarns they were, though my definition of fantasy is a bit broader than that. Although there was no magic in his plots, his stories touched me with the magic of falling in love with a new world and one of the most lovable casts of characters I’ve ever known.

And so, it is with a heavy heart that I bid farewell to one of my earliest inspirations. His passing is truly a loss to children’s literature, though his legacy is sure to inspire new generations of readers.

One of my favorite things about the Redwall series was that warm, homey glow I got when I would read the last few sentences of the epilogue. As Mr. Jacques would always say, “Remember that the gates of Redwall are always open to friendly strangers passing by.”

I hope you found your welcome there, sir.

 

We salute you, Mr. Jacques