Career opportunities, the ones that never knock

The interwebs are a dangerous place.  I stumbled upon a link to Google sites, and now I have a ton of ideas about linking wayward posts, and things  ::am vague::.  I did have an idea about the story I am writing being online, virtual with links, and photos, and maps and other interactive stuff.  Not sure I am up to that level, but ideas abound.

Just what I need, more projects.  Can I purchase some time?  That would be an amazing Google feature.  And you know one day, when they own the earth, they will have conquered time.  That app will be on its way.  It had better be free.

Snuggle

Was at Barnes and Nobles tonight and picked up A Poet's Guide to Poetry by Mary Kinzie. Wished I had picked it up on Amazon first though. Cheaper.

I am only about 15 pages in and so far I am quite impressed. I think she has been reading PFFA. Seriously ... despite of course the time line issue. The same outlook on craft and commitment to the work of poetry. Read read read is her motto it seems too. I am looking forward to the rest. I think it will be slow going, but that is just how it will be.

Between this and my new housecoat, red, and quite fluffy, I am quite the snug little not-bug.

Have a good one.

Research

From Geeks are Sexy. I think the wind would take out most things beforehand. I hadn't considered the shadow of it as it eclipsed the sun's light. Will need to revise, and add. I also didn't think it would take a whole day to surround the earth. I thought it would be almost immediate.

Also, may be going to the town of my "haven't worked on it in a while" story. I have mixed feelings, because it is entirely possible I don't want to know what the real one looks like, because what if it is wrong!? I have the town laid out in my head nicely thank you, so I kinda don't want to know. But I am sure I will take notes anyway.

Have a great fourth! Boom boom.

Ear worms

Does anyone else write with earworms buzzing around? This new story I am writing is being powered by this earworm. If I am thinking of this song, singing away in my mind, the story just rides along nicely. When the song is off, so is the story. Interesting.

Luckily, it is a helluva song.

Unobserved leaps

I find almost everything written by Verlyn Klinkenborg enlightening. Like today's article in the NYTimes here.

I love the lilt of timbre of his writing. Especially this bit:

I have grown used to the idea that nearly everything around me in nature happens unobserved and unrecorded. A snowy winter sometimes retains a transcript, but even those are rare.

I think this is partly what art touches upon, the unobserved that becomes observed by art. Poetry takes a moment, and makes it observable. It shines the light on the hidden, on the unknown.

I am continuing to be fascinated by the in between. The jump between the moment and the word. The place that isn't anything, but is the fuel for the thing. The moment the mark is made, those wings that are the transcript. That place that is indeed ephemeral. It ceases almost immediately, but the transcript remains. Inspiration is like this. The fuel of the word. But invisible.

I love this mystery, the unknown component to the known. This juxtaposition of light and dark, learning and leaning forward to look to the newly known.

Have a great day.

Would it be a pale fire, or a raging fire?

Love children and how they are handled, or Hamlet's dilemma which is kind of a cool way of looking at it.

Given how Lolita was treated and manipulated by popular culture, maybe Nabokov didn't want Laura treated the same way. I could understand that. Putting myself in his shoes, I think of how I would feel if someone found writings I didn't want public. I sympathize with that. But this is Nabokov, not me, and I would love to read whatever it was. Nice literary controversy. Like the writer's strike, it makes me happy that sort of thing is getting wider exposure, for people who wouldn't notice otherwise.

In other news I have scheduled a few things that I am going to do. A certain poem that I workshopped for writing group, I am going to actually think about submitting it. Maybe. We shall see. I'm not brave. I get what Dmitri is feeling. Be brave enough to make the right decision, when you don't know what that is.

A certain willingness to let it fly and see what happens is freeing of course, and [insert screams of doubt] then you will never know if you don't.

Have a great Sunday!

Wings again

This is an awesome post.

You know why, fun. Wings and fantastical creatures, and ideas, are fun. Truths are revealed yes, but still fun! Stretching is fun too. Go for it!

Play and have fun this evening! Maybe a zombie or godling will lay an egg in your glove compartment. Or maybe something we do not yet know. Which would be fun too!!

Distant tarnished mirrors

Last night a question prompted me to go searching through my box of stuff from college, and eventually towards the bottom of the box, I found all my old poems. Oh my. Thank god I never had a place to post them anywhere back then. I would have I betcha. I was young. That will the excuse I use, because, I was young. I also found my old diary, and for that too, I will only say, I was young. ::pats head of younger self::

Interestingly, despite the fact I did not write for years, this diary did chronicle how much I loved to write (which I had forgotten), and how I felt about several of the poems written. What was amusing, was that there were poems sprinkled throughout the diary, seemingly whenever they would pop into my mind. There was little editing from thought to finger to pen to paper. I laughed several times. Some are still true. I can look at them critically now, and much of their content: angst and angst. There were a few good lines I think, and I might steal a few of them for the present day. We shall see. One was published in the university newspaper poetry section, and another was published in the yearly poetry journal they put out. Oh my.

Also, interestingly, at least to me, is I know exactly the reason I stopped writing, nothing traumatic but definitely a reason. Now that I am writing again, I wonder what that does to the meaning of that reason. I don't care really, but I am looking at it Cheshire Cat like. Appearing and disappearing at will.

Have a great day!

ughrhgh

Yet another reason I love Crooks and Liars.

File under lord help us. given that seems to be a huge part of the problem /upsetting talk

I hope to get some writing done before skating/grocery shopping. They skate, I go grocery shopping. I haven't done a full shop in a while, as I was gone, so our larder is lardless. Actually not true, I have some old lard from two Christmas' ago, when a recipe I wanted to make called for lard, and I could only purchase it in a four pack. So I have three left over, not to be used. I wonder how long that stuff keeps. Probably forever.

And even though it means nothing to anyone, I am in full support of the Writer's strike. Good for them. Also, I am enjoying the picket lines that are shown in print, on the internet and randomly on tv. Just nice to see writers out. In public, not in their office caves writing. It is excellent to put faces to that industry. For people whose skills keep them tied to a computer this opportunity gets their numbers out, not hidden away. They don't have the visibility of the actors, or directors, so this is an opportunity for them I think.

That is enough procrastinating! Have a great day.

late notifications, crashes, and pants

Good morning. You know the housing market and companies are having a bad time when you receive this in an email:

We are experiencing a delay in the production of your Mortgage Account Statement. We estimate you will receive your statement within 15 days after the posting of your last payment.

They can't even get the mail out. Jeez. I wonder if I sent my payment like that, it would be a problem.

I sent my short story to writer's group yesterday. I hadn't read it in a week or so, and I am still happy with it. I think the ending might short shrift the characters some, but when you feel other stories popping out of your story, it doesn't feel wrong to do that. Although if it is supposed to be stand alone, then yes, it is.

I opened a poem file, but it crashed my computer, so I took that as a sign, to just let it be a little longer. Word is acting funny. Heh.

Have a great day. I haven't a clue what is on the agenda today, except maybe pant shopping for the kids. They keep growing ;-)

Clearer eyes

There is something to be said for the advantage gained by not ever editing your own stuff in a day to day sort of way. You do come back to it fresh, when ever it is you do get back to it. I edited and clarified bits in the short story this morning. It doesn't seem as long winded and walking around-y now. Better flow maybe. I just have to create better dialog at the end, because that is where it still needs work. It is difficult writing dialog that is sparse, yet each line full. Delete button don't fail me now...

How it is to write a poem.

Prompted by this and Rob’s suggestion at PFFA and here, I promptly (heh) began thinking about this. How does it feel?

Well it starts with a prompt. Not unlike this post. The prompt can be absolutely any thing: learning that Fibonacci numbers can be used syllabically (just last night in fact), a juxtaposition of a natural or unnatural object, a smile, disaster. I really like the juxtapositioning because they allow so much. Metaphor sneaks in through this door. Metaphor is the sneaky one who tags along if you are lucky. Absolutely anything can prompt. But this is not the poem. It might want to be a poem, but it is not. This is confident, and rising, and sure that it should be. That confidence isn’t a poem either. But the prompt is the fire behind the poem. It is what you hope your poem will be, or at least strive toward at some point in its future. This is an important step, because otherwise you get pedantic wishywashiness. You get the crumpled pages or the overuse (or proper use) of the delete button.

After this plop of whatever the fire/flow/dare I say inspiration is, the feelings range from a sickly like vomiting, to a path as smooth as silk. Mostly this feeling is the feeling of the prompt. Good prompts that are happy joyful, feel that. Others, that hurt, but still demand to be, well they are harder.

The showcase of words is the layer through which this prompt speaks. The bigger your personal internal dictionary, the better the choices. This begins the terror though. At this point it is picking the flowers, or stitching the quilt is the hard part, or dumping handfuls of sand. The design of the thing. The prompt sometimes offers suggestions about this bit, but not always. As the galley master, you get to order them around. But sometimes they don’t listen. So in that the work is hard. I find listening to the words works well. That and rhymezone.com because my memory is not what it used to be.

At some point, there may be more sparks from the prompt that help me. The “Yes!!” moments that really make me feel it is working. Or there may be silence. It is an extremely interactive process between the prompt, and me and the words and the ideas. I do feel like it is sharing. This is when it works well, feeding off of the prompt.

Or it can hurt. It can be frustrating, like a two year old that shouts no for no discernible reason. This frustration often leads to the tossing aside of the poem. A timeout if you will, to continue the toddler metaphor.

The time away from the poem allows us both to breathe.

When I come back to the poem, I am gathered, so I can see where the fire may not have been more than wishful thinking. Or it can show me that the fire really was burning strong for a good reason. At some point here, it might be a poem. This is where it decides to be. And then, when I have the energy, and the wherewithal, I can work some more and it becomes a poem. The latter parts are work. Nothing short of that. It is the hard part, but ultimately the most fulfilling part. The energy of the prompt still needs to be there, it has to still be contained in the poem. I think if the energy is gone, the poem should be scrapped. The poem has to speak the energy or else it isn’t. When it can do this, the poem makes me feel somewhat successful. If the energy is gone, then I think of it as a learning opportunity that I was offered, and took.

There is no losing in this usually. That is the lucky part. I am lucky to feel this, and occasionally be able to do this. In the end is gratitude for having had the experience. Or annoyance that I could not have done better.

Now letting the toddler out of the house is a whole other sensation. I am still learning about that one.

What's my name naaaame...naaaame....naaaame....

Reading Wittgenstein's Mistress by David Markson (which is totally intriguing) has reminded me of a debate I am having with myself about revealing my main character's real name. I have only used Trapper as his name, because that is what people call him, and how he refers to himself. In Wittgenstein's Mistress, the main character is telling 1st person POV her adventures. On pg 33 we learn her name (probably). Much is suspect in this novel, so who knows so far. Anyway, because I had assumed the reader wouldn't learn her name, it brought back my own internal debate about my character names.

I wonder if the writer is short changing the reader if we learn their name, or if we don't? Depending on what indicates such. I am especially sensitive this week to short changing readers (looking at you last paragraph in The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency).

Another example for me of how reading influences and directs writing.

Horses for Dummies

Is it sad that my lack of posting here, is motivating me to get some actual writing done? I went to the library, and finished editing what I have written, got my time line adjusted (as I had the main character be two ages at the time of the tragedy), and got some research done (title header!) so now I can move forward readjusted, and post here with news of some actual work done.

I never thought this blog place would be anything but documentations. I am somewhat surprised it has motivated me to get off my proverbial butt and work. And it isn't even November or April.

You learn something every day. If you are doing it right! Have a good one.

Spooky Feather 2 - not a movie

I think I titled another post feathers, so this shall be 2.

Today we drove to a year round ice rink for the family to skate. As it turns out only two of the four of us did. My son and I sat at the table area. I brought all my drafts that I printed out last week, the story, the short story and two poems. I expected to work on the story, but since I hadn't read the short story in a while, my eyes went to that. I worked on it a bit, between issuing quarters to my son for the video sort of game. Car racing. I got a bit of editing done. But that isn't the spooky part.

I am not one to be superstitious, or have spooky things happen. Well not often anyway. We won't speak today of knowing when the phone will ring, or premonitions, or things like that. But of feathers. The short story I am writing has quills and feathers in it shall we say? While editing, I was thinking that I liked the story, and it needs work, more action, and that it is funky, but kind of cool, not religious but might be perceived that way, and those sorts of neurotic OMG I suck thoughts. I do try to have some sort of confidence in what I do, knowing full well it all needs so much work. As we were walking out to the car, I was still pondering these fear-y thoughts, and what do I see, but a feather! On the concrete steps up to the parking lot. I love when life speaks to you and gently pats you on the back, easing the fears a little. I smiled, told my daughter, who thought it was way too freaky! Mommy at it again! Seeing metaphor in all she does.

But the feathery point remains, that fate placed a feather, coincidentally or not, in my path. Darn, I should have kept it. I was so surprised, it didn't occur to me to keep it. Oh well, maybe it will be helpful for someone else one day. Like today it was for me!!

I didn't know Word had an outline function!

I just typed out an actual outline (from my notes) for the Trapper story. We are looking at 20 chapters, 8 of which are written. How well is to be determined, but written nevertheless. I will fill in the details later. But OMG 20 chapters. Who knew?

I have said "Who knew?" very often during this process. I am startlingly amazed by it. Who knew! Not always a question. What percolates out is fascinating to me, as I know not from where it comes, but that doesn't concern me really. I consciously do not let it concern me. I will just say thank you. Because I have found if I let those scary facts concern me, I don't get much writing done. So lalalala. I can repress with the best of them. Mad skillz as they say elsewhere. So while I free my inner critic (crap/not crap), and dance around the words, I let it flow. Some I know the reasoning, because biography works sometimes, and other times the creative muses do their work. Generally I don't believe in the concept of muses, but for lack of a better word, it works.

Have a great holiday if you are in the US. Celebrate like it means something.

The contractile membranes of writing

This morning while I was waiting for the oil in my car to be changed, tires rotated, fun stuff like that, I outlined almost all of the rest of the story. Really rough, but farther than I have so far. The different threads tie together fairly well. I am mostly happy with it. And yesterday's concerns about Rev. Tithe have been mostly alleviated. He will indeed be useful! The two sisters may or may not be twins, I have yet to decide. They will be the undoing of the crazy postal worker. Since he is their neighbour and they have to endure his goings on in his garage, I am going to let them bring him down. Heh! As to the main female lead, Iris, I think I am going to make radical changes to her look. I have been somewhat unhappy with her look for a while, so I think I am going to give her a redo. It won't involve much rewriting, but I think it will be more realistic. She will still be rough hewn, but with a few edges that aren't gaping and raw dressed in blonde. More tough, less bimbo! She was bordering those fluffy skirt edges, and despite my joking about her middle name being Sue, I don't want to go there ;-)

So happy day, minus the house egging! I will have to update the outline, tightening it up, and then I may make a list of scenes. Some say that is useful to do. I will give it a try. If nothing else, it will keep me from wondering to widely.

Have a great evening!

Braiding that takes years

I just wrote the most broad outline for the rest of the story I am writing. I dare not yet call it a novel, bad karma or something. It is really bare, but I will trust that it will be filled in nicely as time, and my inspiration work together to help. I do trust that. Hey, it has been three years now, and it is still filling in. Like pie. LOL It doesn't have a strong ending yet either, many many threads to braid together so I am hopeful. >30K and counting. Or not counting.

One character, Reverend Tithe, seems to be forgotten. Maybe I should give him a gun or something. He will be useful as this moves along, giving solace and advice. I will put him to work soon, oooh, like Nabokov who called his characters galley slaves! That's the ticket! ::lashes whip::

Writing gives you a very powerful feeling. Surprising me, that.

Have a good one!

Proper names are poetry in the raw. Like all poetry they are untranslatable. ~W.H. Auden

Heh, am writing. I just named the two sisters in my story, and figured out a way to tie them in very naturally. Yay!

Judith and Martha. I think these their names. I feel like Adam, pointing to each and naming them!

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Best writing advice I heard today: Write forward. This is excellent. We were talking at lunch about revisions in prose, and how it can hinder the new writing; useful time spent, but time spent. My friend said that one of her professors said always to write forward. You can revise and make notes, but make sure you always write forward.

I thought it good advice.