What is better on Halloween than early morning in a spooky graveyard?
This year was a new event for me --- joining the MAC Early Birds group from my workplace for a 5:00 am walk to Lone Fir Cemetery! It was not only a chance to be at that place at that time, when the still-black night is every so slowly and reluctantly fading to gray at about 7:00 am, but was an opportunity to meet and chat with some MAC members.
Glowsticks lined the walkway in the black. Ahead was a lit tent where there was coffee, juice, water and hot tea, along with candy and cookies. We toured a couple of the graves, including the large MacLeah monument. Other MAC groups came and went --- witch hats, rocker wigs, matching princess pumpkin hats. I couldn't bear to leave so soon, so I parted ways with the groups and took a slow wander (in my nice black wool cloak) through the graveyard, surprisingly able to see in the half-light. It was beautiful, and nicely sublime, especially after re-reading The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (A Newberry Award).
At thirty and with a dead parent under my belt, some things are less scary than when I was a kid. Other things, like popular magazines, are even more terrifying. But there were a couple of spooky moments. One was a gravestone sporting a carved relief of marble, its details washed from above but shadowed by age and grime below, so that the people in elegant, antiquated dress with drooping faces resembled skeletons at first in the half-light, with dark, hollow eyes. To see it up close dissolved that illusion but replaced it with an equally eerie one, that of time and failing flesh --- the inscription on the back was beautiful, however, about "returning to the elements of which we were made" or something of the like, and quite quantum-Universal for the turn of the century!
Another scary moment occurred when simply walking between graves under the trees. In that kind of low light, the eye must be discerning when it comes to distance, paying attention to small details as best it can. My eye focused on something in the foreground, and I slowed to a crawl. Hanging erratically from a nearby tree was a very long, very thin branch, thinner and hanging lower than all the other limbs, with no side branches --- very easy to miss. It dangled down from the tree trunk at least ten feet away to near where I stood, and on its tip was a hard, sharp bud --- next year's bloom, no doubt. I moved forward carefully just to see, and yep --- the bud's pointed tip was, and I mean exactly, level with my eye.
Scary, indeed!
I grinned. "You stinker, you!"
Other Halloween events included an all-night party with friends, food, drumming, and a satisfying Osiris transformation ritual. On the Day of the Dead, Nov. 1, there was another ritual with a much larger group and a wonderfully colorful altar-of-the-dead.
Gymnastics continues, these days with steady landing of front flips and springs.
Friday, November 30, 2012
One Novel Hence . . .
No posts lately?
No problem, we're keeping busy in other ways.
This was my first year doing National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and aside from writing a novel, I had little idea what the whole thing was about. I have a pretty good idea now, though I still didn't utilize all the cute features the site offers. Having written Edge of Darkness at home alone night after night, I am used to such masochism, so I didn't get into "writing buddies" or "Upload and track your word count every day!" (AppleWorks does it for me instantly.)
No, I am first someone who likes to write, to type words into a computer. This is a mere extension, I realize, of my youth, when I was always scribbling on bits of paper or banging on a typewriter (even in high school!). It wasn't much of a stretch to put Edge's infinite editing and illustrations on hold to dive headfirst into another project!
As of now, the newborn novel bears the name Neon Cupcakes, but this isn't final. Rather than Edge of Darkness, which enters deliciously disturbed young adult territory, the latest creation is more a book for children --- though it touches on adult themes to some degree as does Madeline L'Engle's Many Waters and other books. A science-fiction fantasy, it recounts the adventures of two mismatched children living in troubled times on a divided planet. It takes readers into new territories of imagination by means of playing with science the way some books play with magic, asking: What would it be like to be made of flame? How about to drink nitrogen, to swim in ozone?
Lyra is passionate and inquisitive, wanting nothing more than to escape her mountain home and explore the world. Zyzyx (sorry, using these letters rocks!) is a calm and ambitious boy for whom Testing Day is everything: A career-making, life-determining SATs-times-ten. These two kids have everything that ordinary kids have in common --- family, friends, games, lessons --- except three hundred degrees. When a secret door allows a slip to occur between their worlds, Lyra and Zyzyx form an odd and forbidden friendship. The pair run a risk merely meeting to talk, let alone when they brave the touch of each other's hands. But the friendship may be all that can turn the looming threat of off-planet exploitation from a force that worsens the division of their home planet to one that unites it.
Neon Cupcakes poured out of me in a remarkable smooth tide, and has been a great deal of fun to write. Best of all, it provides a mirror and working companion to Edge for things that can be improved. It revives the "fire and ice" fantasy worlds I invented at age 16, but with a fresh perspective aimed at youth, rather than adults like regular sci-fi --- the formidable Issa, for years nothing less than a god, is allowed to be his godlike self at more of a distance instead of being the protagonist, while Flamboura (f. Flambeau) gets to be spunky Lyra's mom. Old favorite gizmo-warrior Zhizz is back, and so is mad scientist Xixizzi (his stuffy companion is a poke at Professor Snape), but almost every one else is a new ingredient in the brew! Talk of alloys and forging is a tribute to Dad, while the skating comes of my love for that sport.
Best of all, after seven years off-ice, I decided I really, really need to go skating again.
No problem, we're keeping busy in other ways.
This was my first year doing National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and aside from writing a novel, I had little idea what the whole thing was about. I have a pretty good idea now, though I still didn't utilize all the cute features the site offers. Having written Edge of Darkness at home alone night after night, I am used to such masochism, so I didn't get into "writing buddies" or "Upload and track your word count every day!" (AppleWorks does it for me instantly.)
No, I am first someone who likes to write, to type words into a computer. This is a mere extension, I realize, of my youth, when I was always scribbling on bits of paper or banging on a typewriter (even in high school!). It wasn't much of a stretch to put Edge's infinite editing and illustrations on hold to dive headfirst into another project!
As of now, the newborn novel bears the name Neon Cupcakes, but this isn't final. Rather than Edge of Darkness, which enters deliciously disturbed young adult territory, the latest creation is more a book for children --- though it touches on adult themes to some degree as does Madeline L'Engle's Many Waters and other books. A science-fiction fantasy, it recounts the adventures of two mismatched children living in troubled times on a divided planet. It takes readers into new territories of imagination by means of playing with science the way some books play with magic, asking: What would it be like to be made of flame? How about to drink nitrogen, to swim in ozone?
Lyra is passionate and inquisitive, wanting nothing more than to escape her mountain home and explore the world. Zyzyx (sorry, using these letters rocks!) is a calm and ambitious boy for whom Testing Day is everything: A career-making, life-determining SATs-times-ten. These two kids have everything that ordinary kids have in common --- family, friends, games, lessons --- except three hundred degrees. When a secret door allows a slip to occur between their worlds, Lyra and Zyzyx form an odd and forbidden friendship. The pair run a risk merely meeting to talk, let alone when they brave the touch of each other's hands. But the friendship may be all that can turn the looming threat of off-planet exploitation from a force that worsens the division of their home planet to one that unites it.
Neon Cupcakes poured out of me in a remarkable smooth tide, and has been a great deal of fun to write. Best of all, it provides a mirror and working companion to Edge for things that can be improved. It revives the "fire and ice" fantasy worlds I invented at age 16, but with a fresh perspective aimed at youth, rather than adults like regular sci-fi --- the formidable Issa, for years nothing less than a god, is allowed to be his godlike self at more of a distance instead of being the protagonist, while Flamboura (f. Flambeau) gets to be spunky Lyra's mom. Old favorite gizmo-warrior Zhizz is back, and so is mad scientist Xixizzi (his stuffy companion is a poke at Professor Snape), but almost every one else is a new ingredient in the brew! Talk of alloys and forging is a tribute to Dad, while the skating comes of my love for that sport.
Best of all, after seven years off-ice, I decided I really, really need to go skating again.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Edge of Justice
This was the last weekend for a live production of Sweeney Todd, so I took advantage of Portland's Arts-for-All program and entered on a discount.
I've seen Tim Burton's movie version, which I enjoyed, but never a live theatre showing. It was dark and gritty and purely sumptuous! I was surprised at how much it resembled the movie, but there were differences as well. For example, with the judge shirtless and whipping himself in punishment, I got a taste of his character I didn't quite get in the movie.
The settings were well done, as were the costumes, and the acting I felt was great all around. Such powerful voices. And yes, a spray of fake blood accompanied several of those graceful swipes -- just enough to fit a tale so gruesome, yet not excessive in my opinion. What was (and is) always a masterpiece was the musical score, which frolicks and flashes, growls and shrills. The high-pitched, dissonant scream of a whistle made the sudden presence of death that much more realistic and terrible.
But my mind is far from easy...
No mere thriller, Sweeney Todd speaks also of a world where corrupt systems drive people to take extreme measures. These systems are at fault as much as any one person. Then, add a specific case of acute personal suffering to the pressures from an already volatile economy, and a recipe for disaster is brewing...
I got to appreciate the lyrics of the musical far more this time around. Next day, I looked them up. What wit! What delightful commentary, on the darkest aspects of human reality! There are horrors in this world, after all. If we cannot laugh at them, we will surely go insane. If we're not already, that is! I've always liked the musical quality of words, so I found it both a treat and very instructive to read the lyrics after hearing them on stage. They inspire my own writing.
Razor! Razor! cut cut cut
Deny it though we may try, we humans are a cannibalistic species, in thought if not in action. Just look at the economics magazines for business techniques! Even the vast majority of people who don't indulge in such things are fascinated by the few examples who do -- by that dark "edge" of our being.
I'm enjoying an exploration of this in my writing. Isaac is more like Edward Scissorhands, in his more benign yet still dangerous nature, than the purposefully murderous Sweeney. But the question remains: What do we do with a person who "cuts"? And depending on how that person behaves and why, if we kill them, has justice been done -- or are we in fact worse than they are?
It's all great fun to think about. And write about, and paint, too.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
10-11-12: Going nuts
This month has seen a record-setting period of sunshine for the Northwest. But at last
we had rain in the forecast, beginning Friday. There's a lovely nature
reserve in east Portland, known as Powell Butte, and I realized I hadn't
been out there in a couple years. I wanted to visit before the gray
weather set in... as it invariably does.
I took my bike. Needless
to say, after pushing that old rig 140-plus streets and then (on foot)
up a long hill, I was tired. I was even more tired when I got back home
several hours later, having hiked all over the butte and then pedaled
back home that same 140-plus blocks. My muscles felt like sponges filled with warm honey. It was wonderful.
I was very glad I had
gone. Every so often it feels great to push one's body very hard. And
the butte was so beautiful, with sunlight streaming through the forest
on the west side, and that bright green of those miraculous, deciduous solar panels --- maple, poplar, birch --- vivid against the clear blue of the sky, on the verge of turning autumnal colors but yet to explode into full palette.On the east side the butte is largely bare, and this time of year covered in waving golden grasses, dried stems of herbs, the occasional crabapple tree laden with tiny sour fruits. It was on this half of the butte that I spent most of my time, basking in both the last "summery" day of the year (though it is technically autumn) and the beauty of the land, with its fields and woods, rolling foothills and valleys, and Mt. Hood veiled by a pinkish haze hovering in the languid air, fragrant with that essence only a well-ripened season can have.
Powell Butte is old, as a place people have loved. On its bare crest is a large orchard, with other trees scattered here and there. On visiting this orchard before, I gave my attention mostly to the few apple and pear trees on the fringe: The main orchard was all some kind of tree with weird fruit, or no fruit at all, and a young person tends to stick to what they know and can get good things from. But today I thought, These trees were planted for a purpose. I looked up, then down at the ground, and the purpose was clear ... if only because I'd recently picked more of these same "fruits" from another tree in the Northeast District.
Walnuts!
How wonderful it was to break open a nut I'd picked myself, and taste the meat of it, as sweet as any nut I'd purchased in the supermarket! Sweeter, at that. The instinct to gather when autumn comes is millions of years old, and it hasn't been bred out of us humans ... even us city-dwellers. Then again, I grew up in a rural area, so I may be closer to the land than most.
I spent at least an hour wandering the entire orchard for the first time, among the patient trees that spent their days in this sweet golden light (and all other weathers), now gnarled in their venerable age and no longer tended by human hands, except for those of the odd hiker or kid. I filled my paper bag with walnuts, to the point where I knew I'd have to rig up a sling for it with my sweater on the bike ride back home, or rii-i-i-i-i-iip!
I wonder if the trees had any sense of the creature that spent time in their company, sharing --- if briefly --- in their peace, grateful for their bounty? Did they know me by vibrations, or by my chemical scent, as I know them by sight? Another one of those two-legged, fast-moving things. And this one knows what we are, has an armload of our little ones. My years, few as they are, are but a blink of time in the lives of these beings.
I knew only that I was so full of peace, and so glad to be there, in that moment, that a couple of times, I cried. I felt something incredible.
There were other trees --- a grove of poplars in the southeast corner, surrounded by their many gangly offspring --- with whom I spent time, now finished gathering and wanting only to prolong this delicious treat of a day as long as possible. The sun was swinging very low indeed as I started back through the woods, arm heavy with walnuts, and the light gilded the top of the canopy and bathed the forest vale in pure liquid life, a glow of pleasure to celebrate the end of a well-lived day and season ... a glow that settled around my heart.
It sounds "aw", but that's actually how it felt. Really.
Days like that one in the walnut orchard ... I have to be honest here.
They can be better than sex.
I think it's because it's not body-sex I'm working with, here. It's more like body and soul-sex, which not only feels good but kind of fills up your empty tanks and, instead of leaving you on some bashed-up high or just wanting more --- or worse, wallowing in filthy sheets of regret --- leaves you replete with good feeling that never fades. I mean, it's awesome.
Don't get me wrong, I like a good hit now and then. But I also think, if you can't appreciate small things like I did that day, take pleasure in them, what is life?! I feel I add a lot to my life, and my writing and art, by soaking up stuff like that, rolling around in it.
These days, the 50 Shades erotic series is all the rage. I'm usually willing to give things a glance, so I sniffed out some excerpts and quotes. And thought, wow. This is pretty sad. Easy read is one thing. Nothing wrong with that. I sometimes take note of easy-reads, to learn to simplify my language. For you lowest-common-denominator-crowd folks. Ouch! Now I'm just being cruel ...
But there's the quality factor, the taste factor. BDSM flavors done well, versus served up a la stale-marshmallow-peeps. Mind, I'm not above creativity, in sex and other pursuits. After all, I'M the freaky chick whose characters have blades in their tongues. Right? That gets rather tweaky at times, mm-hmm. But when you can only get off if your life is one endless stream of full-stimulus machine-gun OMG, and that's all it is, and you essentially have the mental and bodily IQ of a wet vibrator ...
... well, oh my. Let me relate a tale ...
At age 23 or so, I wrote a graphic novel about an electric superhero. Cute guy, if bald (electric, after all). He had a nice, macho-electric-boy nickname, Juice, but he had a bit of taste in his sugar-water as well. In one of the many episodes of Juice's college/superhero life, he had a spell of naughty with an electric supervillainess ... then he went back to his white-bread, non-suped-up girlfriend. Why? Not just because she was a nice, cool chick. He liked the subtlety. He could feel every nuance and flicker of her electric field, and it so, like, totally turned him on --- as opposed to a repetitive, mindless wash of 5000 Kilovolts that smothered any finer sensations. lame lame lame lame lame lame lame OMG!!!!!!!!!!
Juice's feelings are mine, here.
I dig the subtlety. Heck, I can get off on a beam of sunlight in a frigging walnut orchard.
And, my English is a bit thick and meaty compared to today's norm, I noticed.
And, even my bloodsucking playboy characters can dissect and ant and name all its segments before they do you (and then wipe your memory, if they simply must).
In some ways, I'm very easily satisfied.
In other ways, I'm not.
The final point here, though, is that people are talking. Get people talking about something, and they'll get into it --- that's what defines popular. And it doesn't have to have anything to do with quality ... McDonalds and Britney Spears are proof of that. Sometimes, it just has to be easy and quick to swallow, especially for those who have lost their sense of taste.
Sadly, that number is probably growing. This is the OMG age we live in.
It is interesting to ponder, though. Personally, I'm not sure I could write like that --- maybe if I really tried. Put that in italics: really tried. But by and large ... read my stuff, strap that leather on your mind as well, and get ready to hang by those Jungian archetypal handcuffs, babes. Is it above your average American mommy? We have yet to see. If so ... tough.
Maybe I'm just a throwback.
Maybe I'm just nuts.
heeee heehee hehehehe heheheee.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Nibbles
I liked this quote I saw on one of the IPRC silent auction goods:
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world --------Oscar Wilde
I recently read a speculation that language --- in this case, complex spoken wordiness, which some feel defines us humans more than anything else as a species --- evolved like any other ability in any other species: Survival. Basically, because it allowed us, above all, to justify ourselves to ourselves and to others. To justify our reasons for existing, and our courses of action, no matter how heinous!
Scary thought!
So here I'm writing this to explain my own perception of other ideas and things, and why I think it's cool amid the relative mishmash of everyone else's thoughts and why therefore you should consider it, and what do you think of that!?!?!?
Despite this, I have to wonder: Are there parts of our language that have nothing to do with justifying ourselves, moments free of that selfish 'slant'? When I see a waterfall and gasp and cry with joy, is that one of those moments? Or is that, too, a justification of myself --- even if all it does is proclaim, in a bodily rather than cerebral way, "I exist right now, and am happy"?
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world --------Oscar Wilde
I recently read a speculation that language --- in this case, complex spoken wordiness, which some feel defines us humans more than anything else as a species --- evolved like any other ability in any other species: Survival. Basically, because it allowed us, above all, to justify ourselves to ourselves and to others. To justify our reasons for existing, and our courses of action, no matter how heinous!
Scary thought!
So here I'm writing this to explain my own perception of other ideas and things, and why I think it's cool amid the relative mishmash of everyone else's thoughts and why therefore you should consider it, and what do you think of that!?!?!?
Despite this, I have to wonder: Are there parts of our language that have nothing to do with justifying ourselves, moments free of that selfish 'slant'? When I see a waterfall and gasp and cry with joy, is that one of those moments? Or is that, too, a justification of myself --- even if all it does is proclaim, in a bodily rather than cerebral way, "I exist right now, and am happy"?
61st Annual Greek Festival!
October 7th:
Today I bicycled at breakneck speed over to 31st and Glisan (Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church) to see what I could of the Annual Greek festival there. Quite an event! I have never been, and would like to have stayed longer: I had only fifteen minutes or so! But I felt that any "vibe" and experiences I picked up would be enriching for my book, in which I want to honor the culture as much as possible (it is very easy with fantasy to ignore real culture completely, and stray into all that Greek-mythology stereotype stuff!)
I got to watch several dozen beautiful youth in traditional costumes do folk dances to Grecian music. No time to eat any of the wonderful foods, but the smells were almost as nourishing! Then back downtown and to work. Sometimes I utterly loathe working weekends!
An Orthodox St. Nicholas icon I painted for a customer somewhere on the other side of the U.S., an almost direct copy of its predecessor. Icon folks like it when you stick to the Tradition --- very important. An icon is a story told in a picture, so if you change the icon, the story changes...
7th Annual IPRC Text Ball was a success!
I made some new friends, handed out flyer-cards, and so on. So many wordy entertainments in that room. My word-dress was more of an actual garment than a temporary costume, so there were wittier entries that won prizes yet took mere minutes to create with paper signs, compared to my hours of work --- but what did I know? First time there! It was still a pretty good hit with everybody. I loved seeing other people's costumes, too.
The food was interesting and delicious! Cookies, deviled eggs with smoked tea leaves, miniature "dirty" onions with juniper, burnt blackberry chutney, spiced beef cutlets, and several creatively accented cream-cheeses, one of which was topped with tiny crunchy black spheres: A Japanese food that must've been a kind of cavier(?).
Thank you all for a great time. Wordstock coming up!
One lament: That is an extremely "live" space, lots of echoes, not good for sensitive ears.... and not helpful for those of us trying to pick out the words of that awesome hip-hop artist they had! Keep up the word, girl! Saturday night in that part of town also makes my skin crawl, but that might just be me.
Today I bicycled at breakneck speed over to 31st and Glisan (Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church) to see what I could of the Annual Greek festival there. Quite an event! I have never been, and would like to have stayed longer: I had only fifteen minutes or so! But I felt that any "vibe" and experiences I picked up would be enriching for my book, in which I want to honor the culture as much as possible (it is very easy with fantasy to ignore real culture completely, and stray into all that Greek-mythology stereotype stuff!)
I got to watch several dozen beautiful youth in traditional costumes do folk dances to Grecian music. No time to eat any of the wonderful foods, but the smells were almost as nourishing! Then back downtown and to work. Sometimes I utterly loathe working weekends!
An Orthodox St. Nicholas icon I painted for a customer somewhere on the other side of the U.S., an almost direct copy of its predecessor. Icon folks like it when you stick to the Tradition --- very important. An icon is a story told in a picture, so if you change the icon, the story changes...
7th Annual IPRC Text Ball was a success!
I made some new friends, handed out flyer-cards, and so on. So many wordy entertainments in that room. My word-dress was more of an actual garment than a temporary costume, so there were wittier entries that won prizes yet took mere minutes to create with paper signs, compared to my hours of work --- but what did I know? First time there! It was still a pretty good hit with everybody. I loved seeing other people's costumes, too.
The food was interesting and delicious! Cookies, deviled eggs with smoked tea leaves, miniature "dirty" onions with juniper, burnt blackberry chutney, spiced beef cutlets, and several creatively accented cream-cheeses, one of which was topped with tiny crunchy black spheres: A Japanese food that must've been a kind of cavier(?).
Thank you all for a great time. Wordstock coming up!
One lament: That is an extremely "live" space, lots of echoes, not good for sensitive ears.... and not helpful for those of us trying to pick out the words of that awesome hip-hop artist they had! Keep up the word, girl! Saturday night in that part of town also makes my skin crawl, but that might just be me.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Writers' Week (is every week!)
It's been a busy few weeks at the Creative Conduit!
First of all, a HUGE thanks to Linda Stirling for hosting a simply wonderful class the weekend of Sept. 29 and 30, on Internet publishing! It was clearly presented, and dense with priceless information. Not only that, but the food and setting were very nourishing for me! I left feeling so blessed. I look forward to making this work, and to having a continuing outlet for sharing my little "word-children" as they are born, and making a bit of money besides! I may have to call her and bother her for occasional advice . . . although she did say that was all right.
I've been a writer for a long time, but this class was one of those moments that felt like a transition toward my being an actual writer, if that makes sense. Or rather, the transition toward my accepting that about myself — claiming that identity. I mean, honestly . . . how long does it take us writers to take ourselves seriously (but not too seriously, *wink*)?
At any rate, it was worth every minute for me.
Thanks also to the amazing people in the class. You're a great group in my opinion — beautiful people, rich in soul and experience — and I hope to keep in touch with you in the future! More word-power to you all, and blessings.
At the home console:
I was aiming for the full moon to complete the illustrations for Edge of Darkness (us witches and the moon . . .), but the workshop put a temporary cooler on that effort! So far, nine illustrations are complete. Plenty more to go. But Edge is one of those projects so large in scope, I'm coming to feel it's worth taking more time to do it right. Always another edit, always a better way to craft words to convey the dynamics of that world . . . a world based in words, yet deeply rich with the overtones of sensory life; a world within our own, which is itself so very word-based. In doing this, I'm hoping Edge will become, not just another wizard fantasy (though HP was pretty good, if simplified), not just another vampire flick-series, but a deeply rich exploration of what it means to be human — in all its linguistic, sensory, cerebral and magickal capacity . . . whether pretty, or not. Deeper, that is, than most of what's out there, for all books provoke thought to some degree.
It's a delicate balance to find — a balance between easy-to-read, and real, and complex, and saying what everyone has already said throughout history, yet in a way that no one has used before. A way that opens new windows into perception and thought. Oh, my. A simple task, right?
For anyone interested in language, life, and its philosophy, I recommend David Abram's work. I'm reading The Spell of the Sensuous again right now — delicious, but if you pick it up, be sure to engage all those neurons and activate full bodily awareness to understand what he's talking about!
Lastly:
IPRC's Text Ball is tonight! This will be a new event for me, with expectations deliciously open.
Yesterday I spent more hours than planned getting my dress ready (*gasp!* What am I going to wear?!?! Do I have the right shoes?!?). This involved . . . fabric-ink, a rubber roller, and antique wooden text printer's blocks! I now have a white linen dress covered in words, ranging from the smallest English word ('I') to the largest ('floccinaucinihilipilification' – what a fun word! Say it fast and you spit all over yourself), with a generous helping of others from both ends of the spectrum ('but', 'um', what?!?', 'transcendentalism', etc.). Having punctuation blocks in the set has contributed to the design a great deal, as well. Plus, a pair of little wire frame glasses, for that über-writerly look. Lots of fun — can't wait!
Today I also printed out some mini-flyers for Sarkazen, designed last night on Photoshop. I don't know how many I'll hand out, but feel it's a good idea to have them ready. Just in case somebody happens to be interested. . . . . . .. . ... .....???!!!!?!?!?...... . . . .
First of all, a HUGE thanks to Linda Stirling for hosting a simply wonderful class the weekend of Sept. 29 and 30, on Internet publishing! It was clearly presented, and dense with priceless information. Not only that, but the food and setting were very nourishing for me! I left feeling so blessed. I look forward to making this work, and to having a continuing outlet for sharing my little "word-children" as they are born, and making a bit of money besides! I may have to call her and bother her for occasional advice . . . although she did say that was all right.
I've been a writer for a long time, but this class was one of those moments that felt like a transition toward my being an actual writer, if that makes sense. Or rather, the transition toward my accepting that about myself — claiming that identity. I mean, honestly . . . how long does it take us writers to take ourselves seriously (but not too seriously, *wink*)?
At any rate, it was worth every minute for me.
Thanks also to the amazing people in the class. You're a great group in my opinion — beautiful people, rich in soul and experience — and I hope to keep in touch with you in the future! More word-power to you all, and blessings.
At the home console:
I was aiming for the full moon to complete the illustrations for Edge of Darkness (us witches and the moon . . .), but the workshop put a temporary cooler on that effort! So far, nine illustrations are complete. Plenty more to go. But Edge is one of those projects so large in scope, I'm coming to feel it's worth taking more time to do it right. Always another edit, always a better way to craft words to convey the dynamics of that world . . . a world based in words, yet deeply rich with the overtones of sensory life; a world within our own, which is itself so very word-based. In doing this, I'm hoping Edge will become, not just another wizard fantasy (though HP was pretty good, if simplified), not just another vampire flick-series, but a deeply rich exploration of what it means to be human — in all its linguistic, sensory, cerebral and magickal capacity . . . whether pretty, or not. Deeper, that is, than most of what's out there, for all books provoke thought to some degree.
It's a delicate balance to find — a balance between easy-to-read, and real, and complex, and saying what everyone has already said throughout history, yet in a way that no one has used before. A way that opens new windows into perception and thought. Oh, my. A simple task, right?
For anyone interested in language, life, and its philosophy, I recommend David Abram's work. I'm reading The Spell of the Sensuous again right now — delicious, but if you pick it up, be sure to engage all those neurons and activate full bodily awareness to understand what he's talking about!
Lastly:
IPRC's Text Ball is tonight! This will be a new event for me, with expectations deliciously open.
Yesterday I spent more hours than planned getting my dress ready (*gasp!* What am I going to wear?!?! Do I have the right shoes?!?). This involved . . . fabric-ink, a rubber roller, and antique wooden text printer's blocks! I now have a white linen dress covered in words, ranging from the smallest English word ('I') to the largest ('floccinaucinihilipilification' – what a fun word! Say it fast and you spit all over yourself), with a generous helping of others from both ends of the spectrum ('but', 'um', what?!?', 'transcendentalism', etc.). Having punctuation blocks in the set has contributed to the design a great deal, as well. Plus, a pair of little wire frame glasses, for that über-writerly look. Lots of fun — can't wait!
Today I also printed out some mini-flyers for Sarkazen, designed last night on Photoshop. I don't know how many I'll hand out, but feel it's a good idea to have them ready. Just in case somebody happens to be interested. . . . . . .. . ... .....???!!!!?!?!?...... . . . .
Friday, September 7, 2012
Daily Babbler — Late Summer News
When I haven't posted in a while, I must be healthily busy!
July's big news was winning Oregon State! ALL RIGHT
The meet was my first time competing in any sport since State Track in 1999, and was a wonderful reintroduction into my life. You don't usually do your best at competition, or at least not always, but competitions add spice to life if it's not your career path. There weren't many people at these games — just a few adults. And it being a rare 25-31 year-old who even does gymnastics, much less competes, it's quite possible to wind up with only one or two competitors in a pool and high odds at winning All-Around! This did not matter to me, at least not this time. The fun, the experience, was the essence and the purpose. I did land on my behind doing the front tuck, but by pushing myself and messing up, I know what needs to be worked on!
The clichéd, yet very true line applies here: You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. I took the shot — and not only won medals, but had a kicker time with several silly adults (including Laurie, a 43-year-old who did her floor routine to Metallica — ROCK ON!) and an equally silly, triple-State-champ teenager (Britni). There was conflict with work, as well, but quite simply, it was all worth it: A memory for a lifetime. There is a T-shirt I love: Not the one that says "Just do it," but the one that says, "Doing it."
Summer Trip Home — being on Lopez from July 23 to August 2 was the yearly blessing of "recharging the tanks" — time to think, dinners with friends, days walking and chatting with Grandmommie and an uncle, and afternoons soaking in the sun at Odlin Park beach in a brightly-colored, handmade (sewn and crocheted by Yours Truly) bikini. It's not Hawai'i, but when summer in my homeland is nevertheless paradise, why not enjoy it as if it were?
A new thing this time was the lurking presence of a digital sound recorder. I dropped $60 at Radio Shack for it — wanted one that did MP3 and stereo — and didn't test it till I got there, yipes! (Batteries not included.) Why? The reason was a sneaky yet noble one: Recording Grandmommie's voice when she got to rattling on her stories (as I knew she would), about Victorian grannies, bad relatives, hopelessly irritating pets. Some older folk clam up if they know they're on record, so I didn't say anything. I feel it's very worth it. One day, and it might not be too many more years from now, she won't be here — and the CDs I now have from that recorder will be pure gold. A treasure trove of unique insight and memory, and material for future stories. The irretrievable kind you wish you'd invested in before the "crash", as I did when I lost Granddaddy and Mom. This time, I planned ahead.
Rock You like a Hurricane — Hurricane Isaac! When Isaac soaked the south on the Full Moon of August/September, I deemed it the right time for a little hocus-pocus in the manner of synchronicity, and linked the storm's power ("slow and lumbering" though newscasters dubbed it, not very flattering but dangerous for such a storm! You get wetter then.) to my own work. Hey, if my business is slow and lumbering at first but winds up with the power of a hurricane with longer-than-usual lifespan, so be it, honey.
Amusing to me is not only the choice of Hurricane Isaac's name at this time in my life, but that I had Isaac the character go one-for-one against a hurricane in Edge, as of last winter. Synchronicity like this is delicious, all the more so in that you don't plan it! I celebrated by buying a couple of new items from Isaac Hers retail shop downtown, which is closing in favor of from-home manufacture. Doesn't sound like a big thing? How often do I buy rack-new items?! Ahem, never. Okay, hardly. I take it as a sign of good things to come — even as I pray that this hurricane will spare as many lives as possible.
Music — Gothic band Covenant comes to the Fez on September 11th. I like their music as of over a year (since discovering it) and may feature some lines of lyrics in my work.
Up and Coming — After six years in Portland, early October will hold a new event for me — IPRC's 7th Annual Text Ball! The stipulation: Wear items of clothing related to print, text and words. I mean, how fun is that. I also plan on bringing handouts for Sarkazen as an up-and-coming series, since the series is heavily loaded with messages about the Word and its power. One picture I did is of Isaac in clothes made of tiny words.
If the doors of perception were cleansed, all would appear as it is — INFINITE
Stay tuned to the Conduit!
July's big news was winning Oregon State! ALL RIGHT
The meet was my first time competing in any sport since State Track in 1999, and was a wonderful reintroduction into my life. You don't usually do your best at competition, or at least not always, but competitions add spice to life if it's not your career path. There weren't many people at these games — just a few adults. And it being a rare 25-31 year-old who even does gymnastics, much less competes, it's quite possible to wind up with only one or two competitors in a pool and high odds at winning All-Around! This did not matter to me, at least not this time. The fun, the experience, was the essence and the purpose. I did land on my behind doing the front tuck, but by pushing myself and messing up, I know what needs to be worked on!
The clichéd, yet very true line applies here: You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. I took the shot — and not only won medals, but had a kicker time with several silly adults (including Laurie, a 43-year-old who did her floor routine to Metallica — ROCK ON!) and an equally silly, triple-State-champ teenager (Britni). There was conflict with work, as well, but quite simply, it was all worth it: A memory for a lifetime. There is a T-shirt I love: Not the one that says "Just do it," but the one that says, "Doing it."
Summer Trip Home — being on Lopez from July 23 to August 2 was the yearly blessing of "recharging the tanks" — time to think, dinners with friends, days walking and chatting with Grandmommie and an uncle, and afternoons soaking in the sun at Odlin Park beach in a brightly-colored, handmade (sewn and crocheted by Yours Truly) bikini. It's not Hawai'i, but when summer in my homeland is nevertheless paradise, why not enjoy it as if it were?
A new thing this time was the lurking presence of a digital sound recorder. I dropped $60 at Radio Shack for it — wanted one that did MP3 and stereo — and didn't test it till I got there, yipes! (Batteries not included.) Why? The reason was a sneaky yet noble one: Recording Grandmommie's voice when she got to rattling on her stories (as I knew she would), about Victorian grannies, bad relatives, hopelessly irritating pets. Some older folk clam up if they know they're on record, so I didn't say anything. I feel it's very worth it. One day, and it might not be too many more years from now, she won't be here — and the CDs I now have from that recorder will be pure gold. A treasure trove of unique insight and memory, and material for future stories. The irretrievable kind you wish you'd invested in before the "crash", as I did when I lost Granddaddy and Mom. This time, I planned ahead.
Rock You like a Hurricane — Hurricane Isaac! When Isaac soaked the south on the Full Moon of August/September, I deemed it the right time for a little hocus-pocus in the manner of synchronicity, and linked the storm's power ("slow and lumbering" though newscasters dubbed it, not very flattering but dangerous for such a storm! You get wetter then.) to my own work. Hey, if my business is slow and lumbering at first but winds up with the power of a hurricane with longer-than-usual lifespan, so be it, honey.
Amusing to me is not only the choice of Hurricane Isaac's name at this time in my life, but that I had Isaac the character go one-for-one against a hurricane in Edge, as of last winter. Synchronicity like this is delicious, all the more so in that you don't plan it! I celebrated by buying a couple of new items from Isaac Hers retail shop downtown, which is closing in favor of from-home manufacture. Doesn't sound like a big thing? How often do I buy rack-new items?! Ahem, never. Okay, hardly. I take it as a sign of good things to come — even as I pray that this hurricane will spare as many lives as possible.
Music — Gothic band Covenant comes to the Fez on September 11th. I like their music as of over a year (since discovering it) and may feature some lines of lyrics in my work.
Up and Coming — After six years in Portland, early October will hold a new event for me — IPRC's 7th Annual Text Ball! The stipulation: Wear items of clothing related to print, text and words. I mean, how fun is that. I also plan on bringing handouts for Sarkazen as an up-and-coming series, since the series is heavily loaded with messages about the Word and its power. One picture I did is of Isaac in clothes made of tiny words.
If the doors of perception were cleansed, all would appear as it is — INFINITE
Stay tuned to the Conduit!
Wrapping up a Creative Summer
Today it's over 90 F (not the hottest of the season by far). I got in my five-plus-mile walk yesterday to Pittock Mansion, when it was cooler. So where am I today?
I'm inside working on more illustrations for Edge of Darkness, who is nearly ironed out in all her little delicate edit-y bits! (Then it's off to find a real editor, who will ruthlessly educate me on what that really means.) I may not need these illustrations, depending on formatting and other issues that arise. But I like to be prepared, just in case. It's also part of the pride I feel at being capable of both art and writing -- why not do both?
So far nearly a dozen illustrations are finished, first drawn in pencil, then finished with pen and acrylic paint. Nine are for Edge itself. I'm so far loving the grace of the protagonist — his gawky-dark style, and his wise yet innocent face with its wide, sparkling elven eyes and wait-till-he-gets-to-high-school pout. Goth-emo though he may be, his inquisitive nature is that not of a typical apathetic youth, but that of a sorcerer in disguise: Eager for life itself, and refusing to be cowed by oppression — cultural or otherwise. His is a Renaissance mind, hungry for it all.
I've also done two concept paintings of Isaac as he appears when older (and hotter!). These, and any unused illustrations, I hope to include in a special color-print Artist's Edition.
These days, more than ever, I am celebrating WITHOUT SHAME the gift of being an artist and writer. It's no longer as though I "shouldn't be doing this" or should only be doing it "as a hobby" — I love it, live and breathe story-creating, in multiple media, and have done since early childhood. I finally feel I'm in myself, and can be this no matter what else I'm doing in life.
Praise God!
Bottom line, folks: If you love something and always have, quit listening to the stupid little critic voice (be it Mom's or somebody else's) and DO IT. If you think this dude in your head is hot, and better yet has a positive message that could get one child reading, then flippin' write about him.
Just don't forget to get up and stretch your butt now and then! yikes
writers' butt.
I'm inside working on more illustrations for Edge of Darkness, who is nearly ironed out in all her little delicate edit-y bits! (Then it's off to find a real editor, who will ruthlessly educate me on what that really means.) I may not need these illustrations, depending on formatting and other issues that arise. But I like to be prepared, just in case. It's also part of the pride I feel at being capable of both art and writing -- why not do both?
So far nearly a dozen illustrations are finished, first drawn in pencil, then finished with pen and acrylic paint. Nine are for Edge itself. I'm so far loving the grace of the protagonist — his gawky-dark style, and his wise yet innocent face with its wide, sparkling elven eyes and wait-till-he-gets-to-high-school pout. Goth-emo though he may be, his inquisitive nature is that not of a typical apathetic youth, but that of a sorcerer in disguise: Eager for life itself, and refusing to be cowed by oppression — cultural or otherwise. His is a Renaissance mind, hungry for it all.
I've also done two concept paintings of Isaac as he appears when older (and hotter!). These, and any unused illustrations, I hope to include in a special color-print Artist's Edition.
These days, more than ever, I am celebrating WITHOUT SHAME the gift of being an artist and writer. It's no longer as though I "shouldn't be doing this" or should only be doing it "as a hobby" — I love it, live and breathe story-creating, in multiple media, and have done since early childhood. I finally feel I'm in myself, and can be this no matter what else I'm doing in life.
Praise God!
Bottom line, folks: If you love something and always have, quit listening to the stupid little critic voice (be it Mom's or somebody else's) and DO IT. If you think this dude in your head is hot, and better yet has a positive message that could get one child reading, then flippin' write about him.
Just don't forget to get up and stretch your butt now and then! yikes
writers' butt.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Gearing up for the State Games
Sketching and painting continues on the illustrations for Edge of Darkness, in between continual editing not to mention anticipation of, and preparation for . . . my first-ever gymnastics competition! Not bad for an old chick like me!
The State Games of Oregon will be a low-key competition, the joy of which lies mainly in showcasing your skills and the spirit of sport, rather than being better than everyone else. Of course I want to do well, but that's what matters, here — doing my personal best, as I hope everyone else does, too. And above all, having fun.
So what can a woman of my age accomplish after three months of gymnastics a couple of times a week, without having done it as a child? That depends. In my case, it's front tucks (sometimes), front handsprings (sometimes), cartwheels and handstands on a balance beam (sometimes), and kickups and an almost-kip on bars. 'Sometimes', because as everyone knows, the secret is practice, practice, practice before perfection can become a reality (or at least a possibility). It's been a long time since high-school track, and I miss the thrill of competition, the spirit of fellow athletes, and all those dear little medals, representing hours of sweat, focus, and the rush of breath through lungs.
I hoped to have back-handsprings ready for State on the 7th, but I think I'll play it safe: A back handspring means throwing 145 lbs. of weight, well, backward — plus gravity factor — onto two fragile wrists. Thus I've been holding off. But, oh joy! Today I get my new PINK wrist-guards, Tiger Paws brand, from my coach at Multnomah Athletic Club! With extra support, back walkovers and handsprings can be part of that new reality.
Gymnastics: It's all about fun, courage, and pride in your body — its ability, its wisdom, and its joy in moving and doing and simply LIFE!
Watch for gymnastics to appear in the daily student life and training of Isaac, hero of Edge of Darkness and the rest of the Sarkazen series, for he is a Greek boy . . . and you know those Greeks and their physiques! (At least these enchanted versions, which honour tradition to the extreme . . .)
The State Games of Oregon will be a low-key competition, the joy of which lies mainly in showcasing your skills and the spirit of sport, rather than being better than everyone else. Of course I want to do well, but that's what matters, here — doing my personal best, as I hope everyone else does, too. And above all, having fun.
So what can a woman of my age accomplish after three months of gymnastics a couple of times a week, without having done it as a child? That depends. In my case, it's front tucks (sometimes), front handsprings (sometimes), cartwheels and handstands on a balance beam (sometimes), and kickups and an almost-kip on bars. 'Sometimes', because as everyone knows, the secret is practice, practice, practice before perfection can become a reality (or at least a possibility). It's been a long time since high-school track, and I miss the thrill of competition, the spirit of fellow athletes, and all those dear little medals, representing hours of sweat, focus, and the rush of breath through lungs.
I hoped to have back-handsprings ready for State on the 7th, but I think I'll play it safe: A back handspring means throwing 145 lbs. of weight, well, backward — plus gravity factor — onto two fragile wrists. Thus I've been holding off. But, oh joy! Today I get my new PINK wrist-guards, Tiger Paws brand, from my coach at Multnomah Athletic Club! With extra support, back walkovers and handsprings can be part of that new reality.
Gymnastics: It's all about fun, courage, and pride in your body — its ability, its wisdom, and its joy in moving and doing and simply LIFE!
Watch for gymnastics to appear in the daily student life and training of Isaac, hero of Edge of Darkness and the rest of the Sarkazen series, for he is a Greek boy . . . and you know those Greeks and their physiques! (At least these enchanted versions, which honour tradition to the extreme . . .)
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Endless Craft of Editing
Editing continues on the 300+ page bulk of Edge of Darkness, a new young adult fantasy and possible first part of a series! Editing is a fine and delicate art, a process of refining, ever refining, and learning with each reiteration read aloud in the wee hours in front of a tiny glowing screen. Soon, Edge will be going out to 'cold readers' (finally), and then the real acid test begins! Stay tuned for more updates. . .
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