Monday, October 22, 2007
Plot Hole
Today is a writing day. While working on my final story in the Greenville series, I discovered a plot hole. One of my characters is part American Indian, African-American, and white. He is dark-skinned. He served in the military during World War II (in the Marines). I had him being awarded the Medal of Honor. Trouble is that only seven African-American soldiers ever received the Medal of Honor for service during World War II and they didn't get the medals until Bill Clinton's administration. Big problem there. I can't have my character receiving the Medal of Honor because the seven men who received them are distinct individuals who can be tracked down easily on the internet. It would feel like dishonoring them to add a fictional character to their ranks. So, I went online and did a little searching for medals and for the service of African-Americans in the military. Thank goodness I found this plot hole before I finished or published.
Here are a couple of links I found this morning that helped me out of my dilemma.
World War II African American Medal of Honor Recipients
Pictures of African Americans During World War II
Great photos in that second site.
Here are a couple of links I found this morning that helped me out of my dilemma.
World War II African American Medal of Honor Recipients
Pictures of African Americans During World War II
Great photos in that second site.
Labels: african americans, bill clinton, greenville, marines, medal of honor, military, plot hole, world war ii, writing
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Me-Me-Me-Meme
I have been tagged by Kim at Knit Whimsies. The purpose of this particular meme is to post eight random things about myself. But there's some language to include - the not-so-fine print, which is below:
The Rules:Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Once again, I'm going to have trouble listing eight other people to tag, but I'll give it the old college try. So, eight random things about me . . .
1. I keep a stack of books beside my bed. I can't live without reading material. Sometimes I don't get to them all.
2. I heard a Moby song today at the grocery store and it made me realize how much I like his music and how much I miss it. I haven't listened to any Moby in months. I really must buy some of his albums, rather than borrow them from the library.
3. I'm obsessive about backing up my writing files.
4. I'm not obsessive about editing my writing. I edit as I write (I know - it's a sin in the writing world to do this), so my stories and essays are pretty much finished by the time I'm done writing. (Please help your editor friends off the floor. I think they've fainted.)
5. I'm totally envious of Neil Gaiman's writing output. Does this guy fret over editing?
6. Eldest Son and Daughter are both taller than I am. Young Son is not far behind.
7. While I'm glad I have an art degree, I'm really jonesing for the sociology degree my husband is working toward.
8. I own an original Geek Squad t-shirt, handed to me by Robert Stevens (Stephens?) himself, while I was at the Minnesota State Fair. Stevens (Stephens? - Somebody please give me the proper spelling!) was a co-founder of Geek Squad, which is now owned by Best Buy.
Okay, now it's time to tag. I'll tag Livy, Lex, Ariel, Rianna, Soloist, and Reeva Dubois. Hey, that's six people. Not bad.
The Rules:Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Once again, I'm going to have trouble listing eight other people to tag, but I'll give it the old college try. So, eight random things about me . . .
1. I keep a stack of books beside my bed. I can't live without reading material. Sometimes I don't get to them all.
2. I heard a Moby song today at the grocery store and it made me realize how much I like his music and how much I miss it. I haven't listened to any Moby in months. I really must buy some of his albums, rather than borrow them from the library.
3. I'm obsessive about backing up my writing files.
4. I'm not obsessive about editing my writing. I edit as I write (I know - it's a sin in the writing world to do this), so my stories and essays are pretty much finished by the time I'm done writing. (Please help your editor friends off the floor. I think they've fainted.)
5. I'm totally envious of Neil Gaiman's writing output. Does this guy fret over editing?
6. Eldest Son and Daughter are both taller than I am. Young Son is not far behind.
7. While I'm glad I have an art degree, I'm really jonesing for the sociology degree my husband is working toward.
8. I own an original Geek Squad t-shirt, handed to me by Robert Stevens (Stephens?) himself, while I was at the Minnesota State Fair. Stevens (Stephens? - Somebody please give me the proper spelling!) was a co-founder of Geek Squad, which is now owned by Best Buy.
Okay, now it's time to tag. I'll tag Livy, Lex, Ariel, Rianna, Soloist, and Reeva Dubois. Hey, that's six people. Not bad.
Labels: daughter, editing, eldest son, geek squad, husband, meme, moby, neil gaiman, random stuff about me, reading, sociology, writing, young son
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Unwords
Roxanne, one of my writer friends, pointed out this great website - Unwords - which is a site for inventing new words for "for those hard to express things and ideas in your head."
Coast around and you'll find gems such as mahonkin, McFinch, meandrathal, Einstoned, Emotional Tourette's, enclownter, eufirstics, wickcellent, wober, and wordjones. Really, take a look and have a laugh. It's filarious.
Coast around and you'll find gems such as mahonkin, McFinch, meandrathal, Einstoned, Emotional Tourette's, enclownter, eufirstics, wickcellent, wober, and wordjones. Really, take a look and have a laugh. It's filarious.
Labels: unwords, words, writing
Monday, October 15, 2007
Old News & Modern Art
Today was a writing day. I managed almost 1,000 words on a new story, the last in my Greenville series. Because I was busy with that, today I'm presenting you with some old news. Last week, on my birthday, my husband, Young Son #2 and I took a trip to Blanchard Dam. I had never been before and neither had Young Son. I was wholly impressed with the dam, the Soo Line trestle bridge (which is now a recreational trail) and all of the graffiti. Now, I know there are lots of people out there who can't standing graffiti, what with its defacement of public and private property, but that aside, I can truly appreciate the artistry presented. Especially when you think about the pressure the artists must be facing to get their tagging done before they are caught.
Labels: art, artist, blanchard dam, graffiti, greenville, husband, short story, writing, young son
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Modern Art Pissing Match
I left a comment on the Dangerous Intersection blog a few days ago and suddenly found myself in a pissing match. I didn't ask to be in a pissing match, but that's where I was.
Erich Vieth posted a picture of a couple of modern art paintings and said that he "wasn't tempted to buy either of these paintings," which were going for $1,300 and $3,200. He indicated that he didn't "get" modern art, which is something I've heard a lot from non-artists. It's as if they feel they don't have the expertise to judge art based on how they react to it. I agreed with Erich, saying that I wouldn't buy the paintings either, and mentioned that our experience of art is subjective - trying to let him know that he could trust his own instincts when it came to paintings.
For opening my mouth, I was promptly challenged by a commenter with the screen name gatomjp to explain myself in detail and to show some of my own work. I felt that I was being placed in a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If I didn't link up to my work, I'd be considered chicken. If I did, I'd be placing my art in line for potential potshots, which may or may not be based on the fact that I said something that was disagreeable to gatomjp. I don't have much up in the way of art on my blog, but I did link to my artist trading cards. Gatomjp also asked me to define why, precisely, I didn't like the two paintings presented in the blog.
My reply garnered this response from gatomjp: "Sorry, Mary that's not good enough." I was expected to give an essay on the technical aspects of why I didn't like the paintings. It wasn't good enough that I simply didn't care for them. Gatomjp also leapt to the assumption that I didn't like abstract art at all. He/she did indicate liking my artist trading cards, which was a surprise considering the tone of the rest of his/her comments. I was beginning to think that maybe gatomjp was the artist of the pictured paintings, or perhaps an artist who produced paintings like those pictured. I was stumped by the vehemence at which this person was going after me and thought that if I'd been at a party and someone jumped on me like this, I'd find a way to distance myself right quick. It's not that I mind be asked to give a more in-depth explanation for my opinions, but a little honey (i.e. nicely asking), rather than vinegar (i.e. making assumptions that aren't true) goes a long way in getting my cooperation.
I obliged anyway, giving a long, detailed comment about how a painting can be technically perfect, but if it doesn't speak to my emotions, it will have missed its mark. I used music as my alternate example, because non-musicians have no problem determining what sort of music they enjoy.
As I was thinking further about this issue, and waiting to see how gatomjp would respond to my long comment, I realized that there was more that I had to say about technical vs. emotional aspects in creative works, this time in the subject of literature. When I write short stories, I'm always concerned with the technical aspects of telling a story. How do I turn this phrase? What's my point of view? Am I using cliches? How's my spelling and grammar? Did I break that paragraph at the right time? Do I have any plot holes?
When I read a finished story to my writers group, I'm hoping they will catch problems with the technical aspects of the story. What I've discovered is that this rarely occurs. What happens instead is that the other writers start talking about the content of my story. What happens to that character? Hey, I've had that experience. What's synesthesia? (Or some other obscure topic I've brought up.) After witnessing this several times, I realized that the technical aspects of my storytelling were not jumping to the fore, screaming for attention. They are at least adequate in allowing the story to take center stage. (There's always room for improvement, though.)
This is how it should be with art or music or literature or any other creative endeavor. The technical aspects should remain invisible. The work should appear as though created by magic. Once you've hooked people, gotten them emotionally entangled, they may be curious about how you made it happen. Then you can explain the technique behind the work. If all people notice is the technique, then you haven't done your job as an artist. You haven't truly connected.
Erich Vieth posted a picture of a couple of modern art paintings and said that he "wasn't tempted to buy either of these paintings," which were going for $1,300 and $3,200. He indicated that he didn't "get" modern art, which is something I've heard a lot from non-artists. It's as if they feel they don't have the expertise to judge art based on how they react to it. I agreed with Erich, saying that I wouldn't buy the paintings either, and mentioned that our experience of art is subjective - trying to let him know that he could trust his own instincts when it came to paintings.
For opening my mouth, I was promptly challenged by a commenter with the screen name gatomjp to explain myself in detail and to show some of my own work. I felt that I was being placed in a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If I didn't link up to my work, I'd be considered chicken. If I did, I'd be placing my art in line for potential potshots, which may or may not be based on the fact that I said something that was disagreeable to gatomjp. I don't have much up in the way of art on my blog, but I did link to my artist trading cards. Gatomjp also asked me to define why, precisely, I didn't like the two paintings presented in the blog.
My reply garnered this response from gatomjp: "Sorry, Mary that's not good enough." I was expected to give an essay on the technical aspects of why I didn't like the paintings. It wasn't good enough that I simply didn't care for them. Gatomjp also leapt to the assumption that I didn't like abstract art at all. He/she did indicate liking my artist trading cards, which was a surprise considering the tone of the rest of his/her comments. I was beginning to think that maybe gatomjp was the artist of the pictured paintings, or perhaps an artist who produced paintings like those pictured. I was stumped by the vehemence at which this person was going after me and thought that if I'd been at a party and someone jumped on me like this, I'd find a way to distance myself right quick. It's not that I mind be asked to give a more in-depth explanation for my opinions, but a little honey (i.e. nicely asking), rather than vinegar (i.e. making assumptions that aren't true) goes a long way in getting my cooperation.
I obliged anyway, giving a long, detailed comment about how a painting can be technically perfect, but if it doesn't speak to my emotions, it will have missed its mark. I used music as my alternate example, because non-musicians have no problem determining what sort of music they enjoy.
As I was thinking further about this issue, and waiting to see how gatomjp would respond to my long comment, I realized that there was more that I had to say about technical vs. emotional aspects in creative works, this time in the subject of literature. When I write short stories, I'm always concerned with the technical aspects of telling a story. How do I turn this phrase? What's my point of view? Am I using cliches? How's my spelling and grammar? Did I break that paragraph at the right time? Do I have any plot holes?
When I read a finished story to my writers group, I'm hoping they will catch problems with the technical aspects of the story. What I've discovered is that this rarely occurs. What happens instead is that the other writers start talking about the content of my story. What happens to that character? Hey, I've had that experience. What's synesthesia? (Or some other obscure topic I've brought up.) After witnessing this several times, I realized that the technical aspects of my storytelling were not jumping to the fore, screaming for attention. They are at least adequate in allowing the story to take center stage. (There's always room for improvement, though.)
This is how it should be with art or music or literature or any other creative endeavor. The technical aspects should remain invisible. The work should appear as though created by magic. Once you've hooked people, gotten them emotionally entangled, they may be curious about how you made it happen. Then you can explain the technique behind the work. If all people notice is the technique, then you haven't done your job as an artist. You haven't truly connected.
Labels: art, artist trading cards, creativity, dangerous intersection, erich vieth, music, pissing match, short story, technique, writing
Monday, September 24, 2007
Writing Day Success
Woot! Woot! Woot! Time for the touch-down happy dance. Today's a writing day and I finally finished the ninth story in my Greenville series. I got hung up for a while on a particular part, so finishing feels great. It remains to be seen whether my writing through the glitch will be effective, or if it's complete crap and I'll have to rewrite it, but at this point, I'm done. One story left. Whew!
Labels: greenville, short story, writing
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Voice in My Head
There are days when I feel like a head case - like I'm living solely in a mental realm without any real connection to the physical. Days when I'm having long conversations with the voice in my head. (Notice I said 'voice,' not 'voices.' There's only one in there and it's all me, baby.) I tend to slip into the mental realm when I've been on the computer too much, or when I'm tired. I was in that space yesterday, and started there today. I become aware of the sensation after a while because I start feeling off balance. There's nothing like a physical, deal-with-me-now emergency to pull me back out. Buckets of rain water to remove from a basement. What fun.
While I was thinking of the interplay between the mental and physical realms, I realized that when I was a young adult, I thought I was a very mental person, like I could live in my head and be very happy there. I was mistaken. I've never been completely mental. And I've also very much enjoyed the physical all the way along. I took gymnastics as a kid, and still enjoy dancing. As an artist, I'm drawn to creating images of the human body. Bone studies are a kick. At one time I thought I might become a naturopath and I love studying anatomy, physiology, and medicine. When it comes to writing, my stories are peppered with human physicality. (My Greenville stories have quite a number of bathroom scenes.) I'm especially interested in how the body betrays humans. There's no escaping it, this vehicle of the mental. It's how our souls play with the world.
While I was thinking of the interplay between the mental and physical realms, I realized that when I was a young adult, I thought I was a very mental person, like I could live in my head and be very happy there. I was mistaken. I've never been completely mental. And I've also very much enjoyed the physical all the way along. I took gymnastics as a kid, and still enjoy dancing. As an artist, I'm drawn to creating images of the human body. Bone studies are a kick. At one time I thought I might become a naturopath and I love studying anatomy, physiology, and medicine. When it comes to writing, my stories are peppered with human physicality. (My Greenville stories have quite a number of bathroom scenes.) I'm especially interested in how the body betrays humans. There's no escaping it, this vehicle of the mental. It's how our souls play with the world.
Labels: art, body, greenville, human being, mental, minnesota, physical, rain, weather, writing
Monday, August 20, 2007
Saving Fish from Drowning
If you're looking for a great book, I've got a suggestion. Try Amy Tan's "Saving Fish from Drowning." Her book, which is fiction, starts with a note to the reader that explains the genesis for the story. Seems Amy was caught in a rain storm in Manhattan one day and ducked into the American Society for Psychical Research for protection. While there she did some research on automatic writing, finding that a woman named Karen from California had channeled a woman named Bibi Chen, someone Amy was actually familiar with. Amy interviewed Karen and read the writings Bibi had sent through her. Bibi mentioned within her writings the disappearance of eleven tourists in Burma. Just after the note to readers, Amy had placed an article from the newspaper into her book that concerns these tourists. From this ingenious premise, Amy constructed her story. She has written it so well (having done her research beyond that of talking to Karen and reading the channeled writings of Bibi) that it reads like nonfiction. I kept asking myself whether this or that part of the story was true. Where did Amy take artistic license? When you can't tell, that's the mark of an excellent writer.
P.S. The title of the book is from a small parable that appears after the copyright page.
P.S. The title of the book is from a small parable that appears after the copyright page.
Labels: amy tan, automatic writing, bibi chen, book, burma, fiction, fish, saving fish from drowning, tourists, writing
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Blown Away
I hate mixing post topics, but before I get down to the business at hand, I must say that it is raining here. A nice drizzly rain. After the last thunderous downpour, this is our first real all-day-gray rainy day. Amazingly, the crunchy brown grass is turning green and growing again. Doesn't take much, does it?
Okay, now that the weather is out of the way . . . .
For most of my life I've been concerned about my voice, specifically my singing voice. A couple of negative experiences while growing up have caused me to doubt the sound of my singing voice. I'm pretty sure it's crap and I won't sing in front of anyone (except babies, and periodically my kids and husband) because I'm afraid of how my voice will be received. Frankly, I don't need any more knocks where this subject is concerned. As a young adult, I wouldn't even sing alone. I sing alone now all the time (especially in the car), so I've improved on that account. Obviously God isn't offended or I would've been struck dead by now. (Don't you love how non-judgmental God is? Not like us crazy humans.) In comparison, I've had no trouble accepting my speaking voice. I used to be in speech, the competitive kind, in middle school and I placed pretty well. Also, there was no cringing going on when I spoke, so I never developed a complex about it.
Ironically, when I really started writing, I discovered that writers were very concerned about voice in their work. I was too. How do you create a distinctive writing voice such that others know your work upon reading it? My writing voice has become pretty clear over the years. With that, I've branched into attempting other sorts of effects with my writing. I've tried writing about myself in third-person, which is a kick. I've tried poetry and humor. I've tried using fiction techniques (storytelling and description) in nonfiction. I've invented new words. One thing I'm still working on is how to use words in a musical way. How to write as though the words can be sung.
Having not been encouraged to be musical while growing up, the whole music thing is foreign to me. Well, not completely foreign, but it's not second nature. (I had a family full of crazy artists, not musicians, so art was encouraged up to my eyeballs, which leaves me grateful beyond belief.) So then, I've been puzzling about how to pair music with lyrics. (One of my writers group buddies thinks I'm over-thinking this, and he's probably right.)
My husband is a musical genius, although he won't agree with me on this. He has dabbled with guitar since he was a teenager and can pick out many songs by ear. He can also compose amazing riffs and hooks on guitar. He does this as a hobby, as relaxation, so it can take him a long time to develop a song. He's been working on one for the past few months, refining and adding to it, and I've been listening to him play wondering how to write lyrics for the song. It's catchy and very pretty, sounding like a love song of sorts, but with a hint of longing. As I was listening yesterday, suddenly the words "emerald heart" came into my head, followed by several other lines as the chorus. I was blown away. Holy cow! My first lyrics to an actual song! Whoop! Whoop!
(Okay, maybe not my first. I made up a song I'd sing to Youngest Son when he was a baby. I'd hold him up facing the mirror after his bath and sing something with the words bouncing, baby, boy, bubbles, and bath, but, Lord help me, I can't for the life of me remember the thing. I also once wrote a song - music and lyrics - while dreaming, but it was gone when I woke.)
I'm so excited! My first lyrics that I've written down and remember. Now I've just got to get beyond one stanza.
Okay, now that the weather is out of the way . . . .
For most of my life I've been concerned about my voice, specifically my singing voice. A couple of negative experiences while growing up have caused me to doubt the sound of my singing voice. I'm pretty sure it's crap and I won't sing in front of anyone (except babies, and periodically my kids and husband) because I'm afraid of how my voice will be received. Frankly, I don't need any more knocks where this subject is concerned. As a young adult, I wouldn't even sing alone. I sing alone now all the time (especially in the car), so I've improved on that account. Obviously God isn't offended or I would've been struck dead by now. (Don't you love how non-judgmental God is? Not like us crazy humans.) In comparison, I've had no trouble accepting my speaking voice. I used to be in speech, the competitive kind, in middle school and I placed pretty well. Also, there was no cringing going on when I spoke, so I never developed a complex about it.
Ironically, when I really started writing, I discovered that writers were very concerned about voice in their work. I was too. How do you create a distinctive writing voice such that others know your work upon reading it? My writing voice has become pretty clear over the years. With that, I've branched into attempting other sorts of effects with my writing. I've tried writing about myself in third-person, which is a kick. I've tried poetry and humor. I've tried using fiction techniques (storytelling and description) in nonfiction. I've invented new words. One thing I'm still working on is how to use words in a musical way. How to write as though the words can be sung.
Having not been encouraged to be musical while growing up, the whole music thing is foreign to me. Well, not completely foreign, but it's not second nature. (I had a family full of crazy artists, not musicians, so art was encouraged up to my eyeballs, which leaves me grateful beyond belief.) So then, I've been puzzling about how to pair music with lyrics. (One of my writers group buddies thinks I'm over-thinking this, and he's probably right.)
My husband is a musical genius, although he won't agree with me on this. He has dabbled with guitar since he was a teenager and can pick out many songs by ear. He can also compose amazing riffs and hooks on guitar. He does this as a hobby, as relaxation, so it can take him a long time to develop a song. He's been working on one for the past few months, refining and adding to it, and I've been listening to him play wondering how to write lyrics for the song. It's catchy and very pretty, sounding like a love song of sorts, but with a hint of longing. As I was listening yesterday, suddenly the words "emerald heart" came into my head, followed by several other lines as the chorus. I was blown away. Holy cow! My first lyrics to an actual song! Whoop! Whoop!
(Okay, maybe not my first. I made up a song I'd sing to Youngest Son when he was a baby. I'd hold him up facing the mirror after his bath and sing something with the words bouncing, baby, boy, bubbles, and bath, but, Lord help me, I can't for the life of me remember the thing. I also once wrote a song - music and lyrics - while dreaming, but it was gone when I woke.)
I'm so excited! My first lyrics that I've written down and remember. Now I've just got to get beyond one stanza.
Labels: children, husband, lyrics, minnesota, music, rain, songs, voice, weather, writing, young son
Thursday, August 16, 2007
The IT Seduction
I've been gone from blogging for a couple of days. Tuesday evening saw a reception at my workplace that I planned and two of my kids were involved with, so I very well couldn't have skipped out on that. Last night my husband and I attended a birthday party for a new friend. Regardless of how chatty I appear to be here, I'm quite shy upon first meeting people and this party had lots of people I didn't know. As it turns out, I spoke in depth with four people I met at the party - a personal first for me and ever so cool.
In any case, due to the two evening events, I was simply too tired to blog. What's poopy about this is that I miss blogging, and ache to get back to it. Mind you, I've only been blogging for about a year. My evening computer routine goes something like this: When I can find a free computer (which is quite difficult in this household - two computers + a gamer + a college student + an IMing daughter + a Young Son who checks out YouTube = when does Mom get to blog?), I jump on and first check my emails and respond to those needing responses. I have several accounts to check. Then, if I have a blog post idea, I'll do that. It can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, depending on the topic and the post length. Next I'll check the blogs I'm following in Bloglines. Sometimes I leave comments, so that eats up some time. Then I'll check email again. By the time I've done these few online tasks, two-to-three hours have flashed by. Then I'm sick of looking at a computer screen.
Whatever did I do with my time before we had high-speed internet and I had a blog? I had to think about this because I don't really do less housework and I seem to be getting plenty of creative time. I think that I'm not watching as much television in the evening. I'm not much of a couch potato anyway. Even when the TV is on, I'm always flitting around the house. I catch a bunch of my news online now, whereas I used to watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and the local evening news. I've also noticed that I'm going to bed later, but that could just be summer in Minnesota.
I had to secretly cheer for Neil Gaiman's productivity when he lost power due to a storm this past weekend. Without the seduction of the computer, he was able to write. Pen, paper and candlelight, anyone?
In any case, due to the two evening events, I was simply too tired to blog. What's poopy about this is that I miss blogging, and ache to get back to it. Mind you, I've only been blogging for about a year. My evening computer routine goes something like this: When I can find a free computer (which is quite difficult in this household - two computers + a gamer + a college student + an IMing daughter + a Young Son who checks out YouTube = when does Mom get to blog?), I jump on and first check my emails and respond to those needing responses. I have several accounts to check. Then, if I have a blog post idea, I'll do that. It can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, depending on the topic and the post length. Next I'll check the blogs I'm following in Bloglines. Sometimes I leave comments, so that eats up some time. Then I'll check email again. By the time I've done these few online tasks, two-to-three hours have flashed by. Then I'm sick of looking at a computer screen.
Whatever did I do with my time before we had high-speed internet and I had a blog? I had to think about this because I don't really do less housework and I seem to be getting plenty of creative time. I think that I'm not watching as much television in the evening. I'm not much of a couch potato anyway. Even when the TV is on, I'm always flitting around the house. I catch a bunch of my news online now, whereas I used to watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and the local evening news. I've also noticed that I'm going to bed later, but that could just be summer in Minnesota.
I had to secretly cheer for Neil Gaiman's productivity when he lost power due to a storm this past weekend. Without the seduction of the computer, he was able to write. Pen, paper and candlelight, anyone?
Labels: blogging, children, computer, creative, email, husband, neil gaiman, technology, television, time, work, writing
Monday, August 13, 2007
Over 1,000 Words
After having taken on a different writing project last Monday, I didn't have a chance to work on a story in the short story series I'm working on. I made up for it today, though. I added over 1,000 words to my story. Now, for some authors that might be peanuts as far as a word count goes. For me, though, it's quite good. Normally I log 500 to 700 words on a good day. Understand that I edit as I go, which is supposed to be a mortal sin in writing circles. Call me a sinner, I guess, but once I'm done with a story, there's very little editing left to do. (Although I'm sure some editors would beg to differ. To which I say, "Write your own story!) Once this story is done, I have only one left to go in the series (which I've already started). Today's accomplishment moves me closer to my goal.
Labels: authors, editing, short story, words, writing
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Nothing Special
I'm reading "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki a little at a time. You have to do that with Buddhist teachings or they don't stick. One of the sections is called "Nothing Special." Suzuki says,
"As long as we are alive, we are always doing something. But as long as you think, "I am doing this," or "I have to do this," or "I must attain something special," you are actually not doing anything. When you give up, when you no longer want something, then you do something. When there is no gaining idea in what you do, then you do something." (page 47)
Suzuki continues by saying that if you practice sitting zazen without any thought to reaching enlightenment, eventually you will reach enlightenment and it will be nothing special. "Before you attain it, it is something wonderful, but after you obtain it, it is nothing special." (page 47)
A light bulb went on in my head when I read this. Have you noticed that really talented people seem to shrug off their talent? They have reached the place of "nothing special." When they wanted to acquire that talent, it was as if they wanted to get hold of a precious gem - a most special thing, but once they got it, huh! Big deal! Do you do this with your own talents, those things you know how to do so well you could practically do them in your sleep? (I'm not just speaking of an artistic talent here, but of any sort of talent - cooking, accounting, shopping for bargains, taking care of animals, etc.) Do you think they are "nothing special"? That is good, on the one hand. It means you have done something. And it is good on the other hand (all that is is good in Buddhism) because there are others who admire your talent as something special. Eventually, if they decide to practice whatever that something special is, they will come to a point where it is nothing special.
"As long as we are alive, we are always doing something. But as long as you think, "I am doing this," or "I have to do this," or "I must attain something special," you are actually not doing anything. When you give up, when you no longer want something, then you do something. When there is no gaining idea in what you do, then you do something." (page 47)
Suzuki continues by saying that if you practice sitting zazen without any thought to reaching enlightenment, eventually you will reach enlightenment and it will be nothing special. "Before you attain it, it is something wonderful, but after you obtain it, it is nothing special." (page 47)
A light bulb went on in my head when I read this. Have you noticed that really talented people seem to shrug off their talent? They have reached the place of "nothing special." When they wanted to acquire that talent, it was as if they wanted to get hold of a precious gem - a most special thing, but once they got it, huh! Big deal! Do you do this with your own talents, those things you know how to do so well you could practically do them in your sleep? (I'm not just speaking of an artistic talent here, but of any sort of talent - cooking, accounting, shopping for bargains, taking care of animals, etc.) Do you think they are "nothing special"? That is good, on the one hand. It means you have done something. And it is good on the other hand (all that is is good in Buddhism) because there are others who admire your talent as something special. Eventually, if they decide to practice whatever that something special is, they will come to a point where it is nothing special.
Labels: art, book, buddhism, nothing special, reading, shunryu suzuki, talent, writing, zazen, zen
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Seed Savers
I have to apologize for yesterday's post. It lacks a certain clarity that I like to convey, almost as though my brain was sitting in a sock while I was writing it. That wasn't the case, really. It was more a matter of thought overwhelm - too many ideas coming out at once and, because I was blogging, not writing an essay, I didn't take the time to properly stitch them all together. Sorry about that.
The RUSS method of artistic resource conservation wasn't even on my mind when I first started blogging. It just popped out, but it's pretty good.
Now, to continue this discussion of getting an ancient hobby. I've been reading "The Sixth Extinction" by Terry Glavin and have finished the chapter "An Apple Is a Kind of Rose," wherein Glavin discusses how ten major corporations have control of around half of the world's seed reservoir. That means that ten corporations control most of our major agricultural crops. They own patents on them and will legally pursue anyone who attempts to create new plants from their inventions. They've modified plants so that when they grow, they won't produce seeds, or it takes the application of the company's herbicides in order to get the plants to grow. This might not be such an issue - companies owning certain plant hybrids - except that "wild" seeds and plants are going extinct at a rapid rate and wild seeds are humanity's hedge against problems with the hybrids.
Glavin mentions that there are a number of people who've been so disturbed by the situation that they've started seed banks. One of these is Kent Wheatly in Decorah, Iowa, with his Seed Savers Exchange, which he began in 1975. (Glavin doesn't mention Diane Ott Wheatly's role in co-founding Seed Savers Exchange.) Seed saving appears to be one of those little underground activities - in some countries it's illegal to do this - like complimentary medicine and organic farming (at least in my neck of the woods). For that reason, it would make a great hobby, one that might be the saving grace of humanity in the future. If each of us chose one or two heirloom varieties of plants to grow in our yards or in pots in our homes, voila! We'd not only have a new pastime, we'd be helping to preserve an essential part of nature. Now, if we could just change the zoning ordinances in our towns so that they'd be more tolerant of wild plantings, rather than perfectly manicured, mostly useless grass, then we'd be onto something.
Coincidence ALERT: Yesterday a writer friend and I were emailing back and forth and she mentioned that she was researching farming and agricultural practices for a novel she's writing. Lo, and behold, she said that she had found information on seed saving and heirloom varieties of plants. We had come across the same topic at about the same time through two different routes.
The RUSS method of artistic resource conservation wasn't even on my mind when I first started blogging. It just popped out, but it's pretty good.
Now, to continue this discussion of getting an ancient hobby. I've been reading "The Sixth Extinction" by Terry Glavin and have finished the chapter "An Apple Is a Kind of Rose," wherein Glavin discusses how ten major corporations have control of around half of the world's seed reservoir. That means that ten corporations control most of our major agricultural crops. They own patents on them and will legally pursue anyone who attempts to create new plants from their inventions. They've modified plants so that when they grow, they won't produce seeds, or it takes the application of the company's herbicides in order to get the plants to grow. This might not be such an issue - companies owning certain plant hybrids - except that "wild" seeds and plants are going extinct at a rapid rate and wild seeds are humanity's hedge against problems with the hybrids.
Glavin mentions that there are a number of people who've been so disturbed by the situation that they've started seed banks. One of these is Kent Wheatly in Decorah, Iowa, with his Seed Savers Exchange, which he began in 1975. (Glavin doesn't mention Diane Ott Wheatly's role in co-founding Seed Savers Exchange.) Seed saving appears to be one of those little underground activities - in some countries it's illegal to do this - like complimentary medicine and organic farming (at least in my neck of the woods). For that reason, it would make a great hobby, one that might be the saving grace of humanity in the future. If each of us chose one or two heirloom varieties of plants to grow in our yards or in pots in our homes, voila! We'd not only have a new pastime, we'd be helping to preserve an essential part of nature. Now, if we could just change the zoning ordinances in our towns so that they'd be more tolerant of wild plantings, rather than perfectly manicured, mostly useless grass, then we'd be onto something.
Coincidence ALERT: Yesterday a writer friend and I were emailing back and forth and she mentioned that she was researching farming and agricultural practices for a novel she's writing. Lo, and behold, she said that she had found information on seed saving and heirloom varieties of plants. We had come across the same topic at about the same time through two different routes.
Labels: agriculture, art, extinction, farming, friend, hobbies, seed savers, seeds, terry glavin, writing
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Waffling & Writing
I'm waffling. Waffling, waffling. There's something I want to blog about, but I'm trying to decide if I want to put up with the potential ramifications. Therefore, I must think on it some more.
How's that for leaving you hanging?
So, here's what I'll talk about instead. I'm reading Sol Stein's "Stein on Writing" book, flipping through and randomly reading chapters. I've read plenty of how-to writing books during my existence on earth, yet no matter how many I read, each one teaches me a new trick or two. Sol's book is no different.
Chapter 7 - a short chapter - is called "The Actors Studio Method for Developing Drama in Plots." In short, when writing, pretend that each of your characters got a different script for the story and have them "act" from the script they've been given. This is actually the way life works. We're all running around with our own mental scripts that have been built from our personalities, life events, and etc., and conflict comes when our script doesn't mesh with someone else's.
In Sol's chapter on writing love scenes (chapter 18), he says, "It's the author's job to keep [lovers] apart as long as possible." (pg. 169) This creates tension in the story for the reader. Don't make the love scene inevitable, or straight-forward, or mechanical. That's boring. Shoot for arousing the head rather than the genitals (especially for your female readers).
An exercise that Sol suggest, which is more lengthy in the book than I'll present here, is the shouting from the rooftop exercise. (pg. 210-211) Pretend you're on a rooftop and you've got enough time to say only one thing to the rest of the world. What would you say? It can only be one sentence. Sol continues the exercise by having writers rework their original statement, but I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'll tell you what I wrote:
"Do not forget to wonder."
Now it's your turn. What would you say? What would your last words be in shouting from a rooftop?
How's that for leaving you hanging?
So, here's what I'll talk about instead. I'm reading Sol Stein's "Stein on Writing" book, flipping through and randomly reading chapters. I've read plenty of how-to writing books during my existence on earth, yet no matter how many I read, each one teaches me a new trick or two. Sol's book is no different.
Chapter 7 - a short chapter - is called "The Actors Studio Method for Developing Drama in Plots." In short, when writing, pretend that each of your characters got a different script for the story and have them "act" from the script they've been given. This is actually the way life works. We're all running around with our own mental scripts that have been built from our personalities, life events, and etc., and conflict comes when our script doesn't mesh with someone else's.
In Sol's chapter on writing love scenes (chapter 18), he says, "It's the author's job to keep [lovers] apart as long as possible." (pg. 169) This creates tension in the story for the reader. Don't make the love scene inevitable, or straight-forward, or mechanical. That's boring. Shoot for arousing the head rather than the genitals (especially for your female readers).
An exercise that Sol suggest, which is more lengthy in the book than I'll present here, is the shouting from the rooftop exercise. (pg. 210-211) Pretend you're on a rooftop and you've got enough time to say only one thing to the rest of the world. What would you say? It can only be one sentence. Sol continues the exercise by having writers rework their original statement, but I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'll tell you what I wrote:
"Do not forget to wonder."
Now it's your turn. What would you say? What would your last words be in shouting from a rooftop?
Labels: book, last words, love, reading, rooftop, sol stein, waffling, writing
Monday, July 02, 2007
A Weather Update
There's a misty rain in Minnesota today. We need the rain. We've had unbelievably gorgeous weather the past couple of weeks - sunny, warm, a few humid days, but still tolerable. The grass was getting crunchy, so the rain is good. My mom said that she was told as a kid that when you look up at an oak tree in the summer, you shouldn't be able to see sky through it. This year, lots of sky can be seen through the oaks. We're wondering if it's because we're low on moisture in general, or if there's some other factor causing it.
Rain or not, my big goal for the day was to take the recycling out to the landfill. Our back porch was getting full up. With the help of my daughter and Young Son #2, we got the deed done. Such a simple thing, but such a feeling of accomplishment.
Monday is normally my writing day, and I did get a little writing done, but just a little - a few hundred words. I'm having a little trouble with direction on story nine of my series. I think it needs more thinking. I've got my main characters figured out, which is a quarter of the battle. I've got the thing started, which is another quarter. But, I don't have an idea of the ending, which is a problem because I have to get from here to . . . where? I like to have a sense of my ending, even if I veer from it by the time I'm done, because it's how I get over the hump - and there's always a hump.
Time to moodle.
Rain or not, my big goal for the day was to take the recycling out to the landfill. Our back porch was getting full up. With the help of my daughter and Young Son #2, we got the deed done. Such a simple thing, but such a feeling of accomplishment.
Monday is normally my writing day, and I did get a little writing done, but just a little - a few hundred words. I'm having a little trouble with direction on story nine of my series. I think it needs more thinking. I've got my main characters figured out, which is a quarter of the battle. I've got the thing started, which is another quarter. But, I don't have an idea of the ending, which is a problem because I have to get from here to . . . where? I like to have a sense of my ending, even if I veer from it by the time I'm done, because it's how I get over the hump - and there's always a hump.
Time to moodle.
Labels: daughter, minnesota, moodle, oak trees, rain, recycling, short story, weather, writing, young son
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Illustrious Maddy Gaiman
Ms. Maddy Gaiman, daughter of author Neil Gaiman, is guest hosting her father's journal/blog. She's simply delightful, articulate and all-out charming. There's no telling how long she'll be filling in, so I'm recommending that you bop on over and check out her world view before she turns the whole thing back over to her dad.
Labels: blog, journal, maddy gaiman, neil gaiman, writing
Monday, June 11, 2007
A Student of Living Things
After reading "The Messenger of Magnolia Street," I had some difficulty getting into a new novel, which just happened to be "A Student of Living Things" by Susan Richards Shreve. I was attracted to this book by the cover, which shows a photograph of frog and snake specimens, and the title - A Student of Living Things. Just sounds good rolling off the tongue and can mean something deeper than simply being a biologist, which is the profession of the main character, Claire Frayn.
When I started reading, I noticed a staccato quality to the writing. It stood out for me because of its contrast to the rolling and mellifluous writing in "The Messenger of Magnolia Street." Once I got through the first chapter, I was drawn into the story. Briefly, it's about an intellectual Washington, D.C. family that suffers the loss of one of its members during a shooting and how each family member copes with the situation. Shreve does a good job of painting her characters with limited, but spot-on, description, which is sprinkled throughout the story. The character Bernard, who is on the perphery of the main action, is a good example. He is a tender-hearted guy who has lost his right leg below the knee and he gurgles in the back of his throat. Instantly, you can picture such a guy, filling in the specifics of your choice.
"A Student of Living Things" is a fine novel with a subtle understory of violence in Washington, D.C. after 9/11. It shows how going through death can bring one back to being a student of living things.
Here's a nice summary of the book from the blog Reading Frenzy.
When I started reading, I noticed a staccato quality to the writing. It stood out for me because of its contrast to the rolling and mellifluous writing in "The Messenger of Magnolia Street." Once I got through the first chapter, I was drawn into the story. Briefly, it's about an intellectual Washington, D.C. family that suffers the loss of one of its members during a shooting and how each family member copes with the situation. Shreve does a good job of painting her characters with limited, but spot-on, description, which is sprinkled throughout the story. The character Bernard, who is on the perphery of the main action, is a good example. He is a tender-hearted guy who has lost his right leg below the knee and he gurgles in the back of his throat. Instantly, you can picture such a guy, filling in the specifics of your choice.
"A Student of Living Things" is a fine novel with a subtle understory of violence in Washington, D.C. after 9/11. It shows how going through death can bring one back to being a student of living things.
Here's a nice summary of the book from the blog Reading Frenzy.
Labels: a student of living things, biology, characters, novel, reading frenzy, susan richards shreve, the messenger of magnolia street, writing
Friday, June 08, 2007
Drawing & Such
I took another vacation day today, which resulted in the day feeling like Saturday instead of Friday. Daughter, husband and I went shopping. Daughter is joining cross-country and wanted a pair of running shoes. I took my sewing machine in to be repaired. The zig-zag stitch mechanism isn't working. The machine has seen fairly light use since I bought it back in 1995. My husband can't believe I still have the receipt.
This evening, husband and I took Young Son Number Two out for a walk. Pleasant time for it - breezy, but not cold, sunny, not too many bugs.
Last night (I seem to be backing up in time here), I finished a fiber arts piece that I'm thinking of using for the collection of short stories I'm writing. Let's be honest, I'm really working on a book, but if I think of it as a collection of short stories, it seems more manageable. Now that I'm well on my way toward finishing story #8, I have to think about the format the book will take, which includes the cover. That's what the fiber piece is about. My first love, as far as interests go, is art. I've been drawing and doing some sort of fiber art since I was a kid. Now that I'm coming to book layout and design, my fingers will be all over that as well as the writing.
If I haven't created a piece of art in a while, I tend to forget how much I like the process. This morning I was talking to Eldest Son and spotted a library book on the floor near his bed (the best place for library books, in my opinion). I asked if I could look at it and got the go ahead from Eldest Son. The book is called "Keys to Drawing with Imagination" by Bert Dodson. What a fabulous book. Even if you're not an artist, it's fun to look through with its acres of whimsical drawings. Should you choose to delve in, Dodson starts you out with a chapter called "Doodling and Noodling," which is a no-stress way to get drawing. And I mean no-stress. Trust me on this. I've taken many a college art class in my day and haven't seen the "Take a Line on a Walk" exercise before. I'm just itching to get out my pencils and good paper.
Addendum (just a wee bit later, same day): Here is the link to Bert Dodson's real-deal website. The one above is for his book on Amazon.
This evening, husband and I took Young Son Number Two out for a walk. Pleasant time for it - breezy, but not cold, sunny, not too many bugs.
Last night (I seem to be backing up in time here), I finished a fiber arts piece that I'm thinking of using for the collection of short stories I'm writing. Let's be honest, I'm really working on a book, but if I think of it as a collection of short stories, it seems more manageable. Now that I'm well on my way toward finishing story #8, I have to think about the format the book will take, which includes the cover. That's what the fiber piece is about. My first love, as far as interests go, is art. I've been drawing and doing some sort of fiber art since I was a kid. Now that I'm coming to book layout and design, my fingers will be all over that as well as the writing.
If I haven't created a piece of art in a while, I tend to forget how much I like the process. This morning I was talking to Eldest Son and spotted a library book on the floor near his bed (the best place for library books, in my opinion). I asked if I could look at it and got the go ahead from Eldest Son. The book is called "Keys to Drawing with Imagination" by Bert Dodson. What a fabulous book. Even if you're not an artist, it's fun to look through with its acres of whimsical drawings. Should you choose to delve in, Dodson starts you out with a chapter called "Doodling and Noodling," which is a no-stress way to get drawing. And I mean no-stress. Trust me on this. I've taken many a college art class in my day and haven't seen the "Take a Line on a Walk" exercise before. I'm just itching to get out my pencils and good paper.
Addendum (just a wee bit later, same day): Here is the link to Bert Dodson's real-deal website. The one above is for his book on Amazon.
Labels: album art, bert dodson, books, daughter, drawing, family, husband, minnesota, sewing machine busticated, shopping, short story, sons, vacation, weather, writing
Sunday, June 03, 2007
The Messenger of Magnolia Street
I can't contain myself. This morning I finished reading one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. The beauty comes from the arrangement of the words, the use of the English language in a glorious way. The book is called "The Messenger of Magnolia Street" by River Jordan (isn't her name poetic?). The novel follows three main characters, Nehemiah, Billy and Trice, childhood playmates, now adults, who are charged with saving the town of Shibboleth from a misty, mysterious wasting away spawned by pure evil. From the very opening of the book, I found myself wanting to reread paragraphs just to savor the writing. I'd reread to figure out how River did it, how she captured me and held me, not just in the thrall of the story, but in awe of her sentence construction and word usage. You could take a pile of words and hand them off to various writers, but very few would be able to accomplish what River has with this story. There's a moseying to the story, even in the build up to the scary parts. While the scary parts clip faster, there's still time for rolling over sentences in the mind, repeating them for full effect.
When I started the novel, it reminded me of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." Upon researching River Jordan, I found that her writing has been compared to Harper Lee's.
I'm going to be taking this book to my writers group in a week and reading passages to everyone for inspiration. Fabulous book.
When I started the novel, it reminded me of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." Upon researching River Jordan, I found that her writing has been compared to Harper Lee's.
I'm going to be taking this book to my writers group in a week and reading passages to everyone for inspiration. Fabulous book.
Labels: books, harper lee, river jordan, shibboleth, the messenger of magnolia street, writers, writing
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Weather & Stuff
Memorial Day was gorgeous, so much so, with its balmy temperature, light wind, and limited mosquitos, that I spent most of it sitting outside with relatives. I started knitting a washcloth out of hemp yarn. My mother-in-law heard a mourning dove coo toward evening and said that we should expect rain by morning. My father-in-law said that weather radar didn't show rain. The next morning, it rained, proving that the mourning dove was more effective than the weather radar. Today we got more rain, on again-off again, at one point a thunderous downpour. We've needed it.
Memorial Day didn't feel like a Monday - more like a Sunday - but Monday it was. I added a bit to my latest short story upon waking and it was enough to make me feel productive. Monday holidays tend to throw the whole week off. Next week should be even worse for confusing my calendar. I'm taking three days off. My goal is to finish the story I'm working on, maybe start the next (although I'm not pushing it), and do some yard work. We'll see. It depends on the weather.
Memorial Day didn't feel like a Monday - more like a Sunday - but Monday it was. I added a bit to my latest short story upon waking and it was enough to make me feel productive. Monday holidays tend to throw the whole week off. Next week should be even worse for confusing my calendar. I'm taking three days off. My goal is to finish the story I'm working on, maybe start the next (although I'm not pushing it), and do some yard work. We'll see. It depends on the weather.
Labels: family, holidays, knitting, memorial day, minnesota, mourning dove, rain, vacation, weather, writing
