I’ve fallen in love again. Maybe I’m particularly susceptible and lord knows I’ve made some bad choices in the past, but this time I think it’s the real thing.
I’ve fallen in love with Paul Child. If you’ve seen the movie version of Julie & Julia (not, for heaven’s sake the dumb and self serving book) or read My Life in France by (somewhat) Julia Child and (mostly) Alex Prud’homme, well, you can’t help but know what I mean.
A dear and now deceased friend of mine used to say, when looking at potential dates or other women’s husbands, “Where are the new men for the new women?” Well, Paul Child was that new man, and Julia was that new woman. Here was a guy who could fall madly, passionately in love with a gawky, quirky, strident woman at least a head taller and not be threatened. Nay, it appears that he felt himself among the happiest of mortals, and so was she. I wish she were still around, there’s a lot I’d like to learn and I don’t mean French cooking.
What strikes me particularly is how their marriage seemed to blend an impish sense of fun with the ability to endure, persevere, and make the best of some not-so-good situations. So little ego involved—she supported his career through a lot of ups and downs, and he plunged into assisting hers when, after many years, she actually had one and it became the better of the two. And which of us cannot cheer on a woman whose best career years were after fifty (and she didn’t even have the excuse of raising kids)?
Meryl Streep chews on the scenery a bit, and Julia wasn’t really that weird. I know; I learned to cook by watching her every day when I got home from college classes. She and I share a birthday (along with Napolean, hmmm) so I’m sure we share a connection. I hope some of that fairy dust will sift my way. Think I’ll go watch it again.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Avatar—Second Coming?
I figured I had to like it—if it’s got the Fox News guys’ shorts in knots, well, generally it’s my kind of movie. Plus, if it’s supposedly quality science fiction, the Nikipedia is all aflutter, so I agreed to pop for the tickets.
We haven’t been serious movie goers since acquiring the big screen tube and Netflix, but the availability of 3-D got us into those new reclining seats. All the while we were waiting, I kept feeling like I was going to slide off the pseudo leather, and spent my time grumbling about the $30 for the movie, for which we could have had 2 months and 24 movies from Netflix, which is why we’re not big customers any more. But if I needed any further nudge in the direction of my own comfortable couch, it was the rest of the audience. Now, I’ve complained about bad behavior before, but, jeez, EVERY TIME? The elderly couple next to us got up 4 times during the movie--why don’t these people sit on the END of the row if they need that many bathroom breaks? Or maybe consider not drinking the super humongous size? The little lady behind me hung her feet, with drippy boots, over the empty seat next to me. I wonder what her house looks like. Actually, no I don’t.
If my fellow audience members aren’t bad enough, well, the theater had more in store for us. Now I admit that I haven’t been to the movies since seeing Star Trek this summer, but the previews before Avatar made my fillings ring from the volume, steady stream of gorey mayhem, and the actual shaking of the seats from explosions and car crashes. The Nikipedia was ready to post a picket sign for the very lengthy National Guard recruiting ad. Apparently, the only people worth marketing to are adolescents so dumb that they can be induced to be cannon fodder by a good ad campaign. Anyone thrilled by this “preview” ought to take another preview. Say, sit in the lobby of the new Marine Corps museum and watch all the injured 18 year olds with missing limbs wheel around the lobby for the day. Find out what the price really is, how glamorous it really is, and, I guess, go watch a movie instead if you need a quick pumping of adrenalin.
Apparently Fox News thinks that the tough, virile, technologically savvy guys should not be beating up on the skinny, primitive natives. At least, that’s what I hope, and I’m glad to hear it. However, not so glad about the movie.
It’s some kind of mishmash of pseudo earth goddess worship, cowboys and Indians, sweet sassy chick transforms tough dope, and bad guys who keep on coming finally get creamed after the good guys’ world is flattened. Yadda, yadda, I mean couldn’t we have the tiniest shred of a decent plot? How about a hero that’s not a complete meathead? Plus, everything in history tells us that superior technology usually wins—just ask any group of native peoples. By the middle of the movie I could barely suppress the, “OOOHH PUUHLEEZ”
Okay, it is gorgeous. The world is one almost anyone with a shred of nature-loving would adore. I haven’t seen such a visually gorgeous “world” since What Dreams May Come, and you have to die to get to that one.
If you can see Avatar in 3-D, bring ear plugs and enjoy the light show. Otherwise, believe me, you can wait for the DVD.
We haven’t been serious movie goers since acquiring the big screen tube and Netflix, but the availability of 3-D got us into those new reclining seats. All the while we were waiting, I kept feeling like I was going to slide off the pseudo leather, and spent my time grumbling about the $30 for the movie, for which we could have had 2 months and 24 movies from Netflix, which is why we’re not big customers any more. But if I needed any further nudge in the direction of my own comfortable couch, it was the rest of the audience. Now, I’ve complained about bad behavior before, but, jeez, EVERY TIME? The elderly couple next to us got up 4 times during the movie--why don’t these people sit on the END of the row if they need that many bathroom breaks? Or maybe consider not drinking the super humongous size? The little lady behind me hung her feet, with drippy boots, over the empty seat next to me. I wonder what her house looks like. Actually, no I don’t.
If my fellow audience members aren’t bad enough, well, the theater had more in store for us. Now I admit that I haven’t been to the movies since seeing Star Trek this summer, but the previews before Avatar made my fillings ring from the volume, steady stream of gorey mayhem, and the actual shaking of the seats from explosions and car crashes. The Nikipedia was ready to post a picket sign for the very lengthy National Guard recruiting ad. Apparently, the only people worth marketing to are adolescents so dumb that they can be induced to be cannon fodder by a good ad campaign. Anyone thrilled by this “preview” ought to take another preview. Say, sit in the lobby of the new Marine Corps museum and watch all the injured 18 year olds with missing limbs wheel around the lobby for the day. Find out what the price really is, how glamorous it really is, and, I guess, go watch a movie instead if you need a quick pumping of adrenalin.
Apparently Fox News thinks that the tough, virile, technologically savvy guys should not be beating up on the skinny, primitive natives. At least, that’s what I hope, and I’m glad to hear it. However, not so glad about the movie.
It’s some kind of mishmash of pseudo earth goddess worship, cowboys and Indians, sweet sassy chick transforms tough dope, and bad guys who keep on coming finally get creamed after the good guys’ world is flattened. Yadda, yadda, I mean couldn’t we have the tiniest shred of a decent plot? How about a hero that’s not a complete meathead? Plus, everything in history tells us that superior technology usually wins—just ask any group of native peoples. By the middle of the movie I could barely suppress the, “OOOHH PUUHLEEZ”
Okay, it is gorgeous. The world is one almost anyone with a shred of nature-loving would adore. I haven’t seen such a visually gorgeous “world” since What Dreams May Come, and you have to die to get to that one.
If you can see Avatar in 3-D, bring ear plugs and enjoy the light show. Otherwise, believe me, you can wait for the DVD.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Off we go
I just took a caravan to Afghanistan, didn’t buy an airline ticket, and thank heavens didn’t get shot at. Rather, I’ve been snuggled under the cover of my very own down comforter, reading about other people getting knifed, mummified by desert winds, running off with tribal chieftains, and marrying men who already have several other wives in tow. Sometimes you just have to get out of yourself, know what I mean? If you want to know a whole lot about any number of countries, check out James Michener’s oeuvre. Chances are, he wrote about it.
The Michener book that’s been keeping me up nights is Caravan, published in the early sixties. It just goes to prove that if you do enough research, you can look prescient, even if the information was there all the time. Michener accurately predicted tribalism resulting in near civil war, Soviet invasion, extreme abuse of Afghani women, and a whole host of stuff you can read about any day in your newspaper’s front page. And if you want to get a really good perspective on why a war in Afghanistan is probably even more unwinnable than one in Iraq, why, look no further than this 40 year old book. The Afghanistan of Caravan makes other messed up countries, like Somalia and Nigeria, look like child’s play to get organized.
Nobody will ever accuse James Michener of intricate plots, psychodrama, or brevity (my soul mate!), but he knows how to amass a mountain of data as high as the Hindu Kush, twist it into a forthright yarn that shadows real characters, and by the time you plow through 300 to 1,000 pages, you know everything he knows about the subject. He wrote big books, but ones where the storytelling is so engaging that you find yourself reading over lunch, carrying the brick into the bathroom, and, in my case, burning yourself because you were stirring something with one hand while holding the book in the other.
In addition to Caravan, I’ve read Tales of the South Pacific, Hawaii and Caribbean. Hawaii is fun and poignant (don’t bother with the awful movie they made from part of it). After reading the horrifying Caribbean, I don’t think I’d ever be able to vacation there again. Best of all, though, was Michener’s autobiography, The World Is My Home. It was a pleasure to visit with this seemingly kind, self made guy who seldom has a bad word to say about anyone. Whether he was really that way in person (hmmm, he was married 3 times), we’ll never know. It’s a big book, but it leaves out perhaps as much as it includes. Nevertheless, if you’re looking for an easy read that will give you more entertainment than whatever you just rented from Netflix, check out Michener, any Michener. Years ago any of his books was eagerly awaited and an instant bestseller. You don’t hear about his work much since he passed away. More’s the pity.
The Michener book that’s been keeping me up nights is Caravan, published in the early sixties. It just goes to prove that if you do enough research, you can look prescient, even if the information was there all the time. Michener accurately predicted tribalism resulting in near civil war, Soviet invasion, extreme abuse of Afghani women, and a whole host of stuff you can read about any day in your newspaper’s front page. And if you want to get a really good perspective on why a war in Afghanistan is probably even more unwinnable than one in Iraq, why, look no further than this 40 year old book. The Afghanistan of Caravan makes other messed up countries, like Somalia and Nigeria, look like child’s play to get organized.
Nobody will ever accuse James Michener of intricate plots, psychodrama, or brevity (my soul mate!), but he knows how to amass a mountain of data as high as the Hindu Kush, twist it into a forthright yarn that shadows real characters, and by the time you plow through 300 to 1,000 pages, you know everything he knows about the subject. He wrote big books, but ones where the storytelling is so engaging that you find yourself reading over lunch, carrying the brick into the bathroom, and, in my case, burning yourself because you were stirring something with one hand while holding the book in the other.
In addition to Caravan, I’ve read Tales of the South Pacific, Hawaii and Caribbean. Hawaii is fun and poignant (don’t bother with the awful movie they made from part of it). After reading the horrifying Caribbean, I don’t think I’d ever be able to vacation there again. Best of all, though, was Michener’s autobiography, The World Is My Home. It was a pleasure to visit with this seemingly kind, self made guy who seldom has a bad word to say about anyone. Whether he was really that way in person (hmmm, he was married 3 times), we’ll never know. It’s a big book, but it leaves out perhaps as much as it includes. Nevertheless, if you’re looking for an easy read that will give you more entertainment than whatever you just rented from Netflix, check out Michener, any Michener. Years ago any of his books was eagerly awaited and an instant bestseller. You don’t hear about his work much since he passed away. More’s the pity.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A Christmas sugar plum
I went to the opera recently and nobody died. Franz Lehar just isn’t like that. The Merry Widow is a huge whipped cream torte of music, frivolity, and child-like swirls of emotions. The Lyric Opera of Chicago has done it up right, with great costumes, beautiful voices, and a cast that makes a serious stab at acting.
It does seem that these financial times have returned us to more conventional productions. A number of years ago the Lyric was experimenting with “modernizing” some operas. For me, the nadir was reached in their production of Gluck’s Alceste, where everyone was costumed in beige and gray. At one point there was a pile of naked, writhing bodies on stage that, far from being erotic, resembled a plate of Klingon Gagh, or the earthworms in my compost heap. My guess is the people who pay for the big ticket seats didn’t exactly relish it either.
Opera, well done, can be the best of all theater experiences: music, dance, plot, lyrical language, voice, orchestra, acting—it CAN have it all. Okay, sometimes it’s a little weak on a few of those things. Acting can be a bit dubious when the two “young lovers” are pretty clearly pushing fifty under the spackled on makeup, or when they’re as big as two belugas circling each other. And the plots, well, I’ve been meaning to write “the three plots of all operas” for a long time. But sometimes the lyricism can move me to tears. Maybe it’s my age, but the regret of getting older in the words of the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier, or just about any line in La Bohème, have me crying like I’m peeling onions.
The Nikipedia only likes happy endings, and by that standard Lehar ought to be her favorite composer (he’s not, but that’s another blog post). Both the Merry Widow and his other well-known work, The Student Prince, have all the problems you’d like to have, and even the villains are not so bad and have good reasons to oppose the hero/heroine. If only life were like that.
I have one horrible problem in viewing opera, and that is that after nearly freezing to death getting to the production (never once have I bought tickets that the day didn’t turn out to be a ride on the polar express), once I sit down and the overture starts, the combination of warmth and relaxation often puts me right to sleep. Usually, I have the Nikipedia to poke me in the ribs ruthlessly, but sometimes the Sandman even affects her. Not so this time—the constant action, the music, the dance, the colorful costumes kept me charged from beginning to end, and that’s saying something because it’s a 3 hour production. However, thanks to this somnambulance affliction, I’ve discovered that I quite enjoy opera on DVDs as well, where you don’t have to watch the entire thing at once. Also, while nothing compares to the live experience, you can wait a long time to see the opera you want produced within driving distance. DVDs fill the gap, and may be an easier introduction for squirmy kids. I haven't seen either the Merry Widow or one of the available versions of The Student Prince on DVD (the old version is available on Netflix), so let me know how they are if you check 'em out.
It does seem that these financial times have returned us to more conventional productions. A number of years ago the Lyric was experimenting with “modernizing” some operas. For me, the nadir was reached in their production of Gluck’s Alceste, where everyone was costumed in beige and gray. At one point there was a pile of naked, writhing bodies on stage that, far from being erotic, resembled a plate of Klingon Gagh, or the earthworms in my compost heap. My guess is the people who pay for the big ticket seats didn’t exactly relish it either.
Opera, well done, can be the best of all theater experiences: music, dance, plot, lyrical language, voice, orchestra, acting—it CAN have it all. Okay, sometimes it’s a little weak on a few of those things. Acting can be a bit dubious when the two “young lovers” are pretty clearly pushing fifty under the spackled on makeup, or when they’re as big as two belugas circling each other. And the plots, well, I’ve been meaning to write “the three plots of all operas” for a long time. But sometimes the lyricism can move me to tears. Maybe it’s my age, but the regret of getting older in the words of the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier, or just about any line in La Bohème, have me crying like I’m peeling onions.
The Nikipedia only likes happy endings, and by that standard Lehar ought to be her favorite composer (he’s not, but that’s another blog post). Both the Merry Widow and his other well-known work, The Student Prince, have all the problems you’d like to have, and even the villains are not so bad and have good reasons to oppose the hero/heroine. If only life were like that.
I have one horrible problem in viewing opera, and that is that after nearly freezing to death getting to the production (never once have I bought tickets that the day didn’t turn out to be a ride on the polar express), once I sit down and the overture starts, the combination of warmth and relaxation often puts me right to sleep. Usually, I have the Nikipedia to poke me in the ribs ruthlessly, but sometimes the Sandman even affects her. Not so this time—the constant action, the music, the dance, the colorful costumes kept me charged from beginning to end, and that’s saying something because it’s a 3 hour production. However, thanks to this somnambulance affliction, I’ve discovered that I quite enjoy opera on DVDs as well, where you don’t have to watch the entire thing at once. Also, while nothing compares to the live experience, you can wait a long time to see the opera you want produced within driving distance. DVDs fill the gap, and may be an easier introduction for squirmy kids. I haven't seen either the Merry Widow or one of the available versions of The Student Prince on DVD (the old version is available on Netflix), so let me know how they are if you check 'em out.
Friday, December 11, 2009
NaNoWriMo: alas, No Mo’
NaNoWriMo wound up on November 30th, so I think I’ve finally recovered enough to pontificate. Some have said it’s pretty hard to teach me anything, but I did learn a few things about writing and life from the experience.
Writing a novel is a humbling experience.
As is probably evident from the length of some of these blog posts, I’m no slouch at spewing words. I’d thought about my novel, researched it for months, even translated tons of material from French reference books. I’d outlined it, summarized it, plotted crises and down time. None of it was enough—I was done with my first draft at 40,000 and really had to struggle to make it to 50,000. Sure, it’s a teen historical novel (also known as YA), and they can be shorter, but probably not that short. Halfway into my story, which is set in a girls’ school during the time of Louis XIV, I felt like all my characters did was eat meals and walk around the corridors. My respect for another author, who sets her story in a similarly closed environment, went up a thousand per cent. Hats off, J.K. Rowling.
Forget the research until you’ve written the first draft
I know this is heresy for historical fiction. Okay, maybe you can read a Time Life book or some background piece so you don’t make glaring mistakes. Even though I have a file drawer and several shelves worth of books on Louis XIV, everyday life in the period, carriages, maps, etc., I couldn’t remember any of it while writing at the speed required by NaNoWriMo. Far from combing through files, I didn’t even have time to look at the binder I put together of essential details. Know what? Didn’t matter. I just stuck in brackets and moved on with the story. Now I can see exactly what details I need to round out the story, rather than trying to cram in all the interesting facts just because I spent so much time accumulating them. Plus, I could have saved myself months of work.
I think historical novelists need to distinguish what is fun to know from what is essential to the story. Unless you have a publisher that is willing to print a brick, your attention is better focused on the plot and characters rather than your file cards.
Forget the outline
I had an extensive outline which was little help in gauging how much needed to be written to get my characters from plot point to plot point. Also, it encouraged me to feel that I had to begin at the beginning and work through to the end. Not much room for innovation there.
Maybe if I wasn’t working on the thirty day deadline, an outline would have worked better. But if I ever do NaNoWriMo again, I’m just going to have 30 sections that I can write 1,667 words on, probably also called “chapters”. The whole point of this speed writing exercise is that you finally get something down. It doesn’t have to be good, and believe me, mine isn’t. But you have something to work with. Either an outline or a 30-points list works for that, but the 30 points would have had me writing faster, and better spread out over the time period.
If something’s too hard, make it harder
For most of my life I’ve been the type who can only write during the day (preferably morning) with significant quiet. During NaNo, I wrote while in coffee shops with kids screaming next to me, wrote while the Nikipedia clacked along on her keyboard, wrote at 12:30 at night and woke up with my hands still on the keyboard. You can type in unexpected places like the bathroom, as long as you’re sitting down (eeuw, gross).
Also, making it harder really cures writer’s block and perfectionism. I wrote 6,000 words the Saturday before the deadline. There wasn’t any time to think or worry. As my friend Pat Bracewell (another historical novelist) advised me, “Bang it out, baby”—four sage words of advice.
On the other hand, you can’t keep up that kind of pressure
One of the reasons it works is because it’s time-limited. You can’t go forever without cleaning the bathroom, or ever reading a book, or eating Spam and lettuce for dinner. A month a year, yes, but it isn’t a lifestyle.
Even though I can dither for a long time about a single sentence, not thinking at all just isn’t fun. It’s a fine first draft method to crank, but a little slower and I’d have enjoyed the writing. Actually, 1,700 words would be doable, but what with Thanksgiving, house guests, etc. I missed several days. Which brings me to the next principle…
Front load it
I knew there would be days when I couldn’t write, but I didn’t realize how fast they’d pile up. Hey, it’s been a year or two or 30 since I’ve been in grad school. If I do NaNo again, I’m going to lock myself in my room for the first weekend at least. They tell you this, but until you’ve lived it, you won’t realize the number of ways things interfere.
Don’t be intimidated by what other people seem to be doing
One of the virtues is the buddy system, where you can see how much your friends are writing every day. One of my buddies wrote about half her novel the first weekend. She never wrote another word. She’s not a close friend, and I haven’t had the heart to ask her what happened. Other people made extraordinary leaps at times when I was grinding along. But out of the 8 people I watched, only 3 finished (one being the Nikipedia). So, don’t assume everyone else is having an easier time with anything than you are. And maybe don’t front load so much you never want to see the thing again.
You will be very proud of yourself if you accomplish something hard
The Nikipedia has been so excited she’s been carrying her printed copy everywhere. It’s hard to resist the urge to buttonhole total strangers in coffee shops and bookstores and tell them all about it. I was sure I could write a novel, but not sure I could produce a first draft of 50,000 words in a month. Now I know. I have the winners’ certificate right in front of me.
Nobody wants to hear about your great idea
I learned this at the final party when one woman talked me cross eyed. Even I didn’t want to hear the whole thing, which she seemed determined to punish me with, line by line. You need an elevator speech for any great idea, and those were quite interesting to hear. But the idea isn’t the product, the manuscript (or invention, or report, or new business) is, and unless that is produced in finished form, the draft is pretty useless to anyone but the creator.
Nothing is as famous as you think
NaNo has over 120,000 participants a year. Except for few friends and some other writers, no one I mentioned it to had ever heard of it. Think about that the next time you make a gaffe or mistake and think "everyone will know". Also, no matter how much publicity you generate, there will still be plenty of people to reach.
Now…on to revisions.
Writing a novel is a humbling experience.
As is probably evident from the length of some of these blog posts, I’m no slouch at spewing words. I’d thought about my novel, researched it for months, even translated tons of material from French reference books. I’d outlined it, summarized it, plotted crises and down time. None of it was enough—I was done with my first draft at 40,000 and really had to struggle to make it to 50,000. Sure, it’s a teen historical novel (also known as YA), and they can be shorter, but probably not that short. Halfway into my story, which is set in a girls’ school during the time of Louis XIV, I felt like all my characters did was eat meals and walk around the corridors. My respect for another author, who sets her story in a similarly closed environment, went up a thousand per cent. Hats off, J.K. Rowling.
Forget the research until you’ve written the first draft
I know this is heresy for historical fiction. Okay, maybe you can read a Time Life book or some background piece so you don’t make glaring mistakes. Even though I have a file drawer and several shelves worth of books on Louis XIV, everyday life in the period, carriages, maps, etc., I couldn’t remember any of it while writing at the speed required by NaNoWriMo. Far from combing through files, I didn’t even have time to look at the binder I put together of essential details. Know what? Didn’t matter. I just stuck in brackets and moved on with the story. Now I can see exactly what details I need to round out the story, rather than trying to cram in all the interesting facts just because I spent so much time accumulating them. Plus, I could have saved myself months of work.
I think historical novelists need to distinguish what is fun to know from what is essential to the story. Unless you have a publisher that is willing to print a brick, your attention is better focused on the plot and characters rather than your file cards.
Forget the outline
I had an extensive outline which was little help in gauging how much needed to be written to get my characters from plot point to plot point. Also, it encouraged me to feel that I had to begin at the beginning and work through to the end. Not much room for innovation there.
Maybe if I wasn’t working on the thirty day deadline, an outline would have worked better. But if I ever do NaNoWriMo again, I’m just going to have 30 sections that I can write 1,667 words on, probably also called “chapters”. The whole point of this speed writing exercise is that you finally get something down. It doesn’t have to be good, and believe me, mine isn’t. But you have something to work with. Either an outline or a 30-points list works for that, but the 30 points would have had me writing faster, and better spread out over the time period.
If something’s too hard, make it harder
For most of my life I’ve been the type who can only write during the day (preferably morning) with significant quiet. During NaNo, I wrote while in coffee shops with kids screaming next to me, wrote while the Nikipedia clacked along on her keyboard, wrote at 12:30 at night and woke up with my hands still on the keyboard. You can type in unexpected places like the bathroom, as long as you’re sitting down (eeuw, gross).
Also, making it harder really cures writer’s block and perfectionism. I wrote 6,000 words the Saturday before the deadline. There wasn’t any time to think or worry. As my friend Pat Bracewell (another historical novelist) advised me, “Bang it out, baby”—four sage words of advice.
On the other hand, you can’t keep up that kind of pressure
One of the reasons it works is because it’s time-limited. You can’t go forever without cleaning the bathroom, or ever reading a book, or eating Spam and lettuce for dinner. A month a year, yes, but it isn’t a lifestyle.
Even though I can dither for a long time about a single sentence, not thinking at all just isn’t fun. It’s a fine first draft method to crank, but a little slower and I’d have enjoyed the writing. Actually, 1,700 words would be doable, but what with Thanksgiving, house guests, etc. I missed several days. Which brings me to the next principle…
Front load it
I knew there would be days when I couldn’t write, but I didn’t realize how fast they’d pile up. Hey, it’s been a year or two or 30 since I’ve been in grad school. If I do NaNo again, I’m going to lock myself in my room for the first weekend at least. They tell you this, but until you’ve lived it, you won’t realize the number of ways things interfere.
Don’t be intimidated by what other people seem to be doing
One of the virtues is the buddy system, where you can see how much your friends are writing every day. One of my buddies wrote about half her novel the first weekend. She never wrote another word. She’s not a close friend, and I haven’t had the heart to ask her what happened. Other people made extraordinary leaps at times when I was grinding along. But out of the 8 people I watched, only 3 finished (one being the Nikipedia). So, don’t assume everyone else is having an easier time with anything than you are. And maybe don’t front load so much you never want to see the thing again.
You will be very proud of yourself if you accomplish something hard
The Nikipedia has been so excited she’s been carrying her printed copy everywhere. It’s hard to resist the urge to buttonhole total strangers in coffee shops and bookstores and tell them all about it. I was sure I could write a novel, but not sure I could produce a first draft of 50,000 words in a month. Now I know. I have the winners’ certificate right in front of me.
Nobody wants to hear about your great idea
I learned this at the final party when one woman talked me cross eyed. Even I didn’t want to hear the whole thing, which she seemed determined to punish me with, line by line. You need an elevator speech for any great idea, and those were quite interesting to hear. But the idea isn’t the product, the manuscript (or invention, or report, or new business) is, and unless that is produced in finished form, the draft is pretty useless to anyone but the creator.
Nothing is as famous as you think
NaNo has over 120,000 participants a year. Except for few friends and some other writers, no one I mentioned it to had ever heard of it. Think about that the next time you make a gaffe or mistake and think "everyone will know". Also, no matter how much publicity you generate, there will still be plenty of people to reach.
Now…on to revisions.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
What do you want for Christmas?
If your answer is more time, world peace or true love, well, mine too. But I don’t think I can do a whole lot to get them, so I have a few other ideas for gifts that might do a tiny bit of good in this world. Since I’d almost prefer being run over by a Hummer (at least it’s quick) to having to brave the mall on a Saturday, I’ve come up with a different list. This is a tough Christmas for a lot of people, and an awful lot of businesses, too, and I’d like to see people who put out a creative and useful product stay afloat.
My first suggestion is, shop locally. No, I don’t mean your local Ann Taylor or Coldwater Creek (okay, please shop at Coldwater Creek—I have stock in them and it stinks lately), I mean creative, single store merchants that have a personal vision and are selling something unique—the individual clothing shop, the local antiques merchant, the floral or plant store. People that own and run these stores are doing it as much for love as money, and they’ll be willing to talk over your problem giftees and help you come up with something. Shop there before all individuality is eaten alive by mega-corporation homogenization.
Second idea is, how about donating to a charity that has a nifty premium for a gift? National Wildlife Federation has a lot of adorable plushies and great magazines for adults and kids. Ditto World Wildlife Fund, Sierra Club, Audubon, Defenders of Wildlife, etc. I admit I don’t get a real gift thrill out of just making a donation, but these organizations have figured out that it’s a lot more fun if you have something to wrap up, or a nifty magazine.
While we’re on the subject of magazines, most of them are struggling. You can find a magazine for nearly anyone on your list—New Moon is terrific for tweens, and Carus publications has a ton for different age brackets (literary, social sciences and science). For adults, too—go to your local (preferably independent) bookseller, look through the racks and racks, pick one out, mail one of the hundreds of blown-in subscription cards and wrap up the sample. Me, I love Somerset Studio, Belle Armoire, Threads, The Washington Monthly, Marie-Claire Idées, Poets & Writers, Piano, and an armload of others (hint, hint).
A more unusual variation of the magazine gift is the literary journal subscription. In my book these have some distinct advantages: they don’t publish as frequently, hence they don’t remind me of the kind of machine that keeps spitting tennis balls at you, and I don’t add to my six foot bedside stack; and they’re smaller and you can stuff them in a pocket or purse more easily. Ones that I really like or have liked in the past include Alimentum, Granta, Glimmer Train, The Believer, and The Sun. I’ll be reviewing these in more depth one of these days.
If you’re really broke and live near a major city, I have three ideas. Do a search of second hand stores and library used book sales. The stuff at second hand stores can be unbelievable—recent finds include an Irish fisherman handknit sweater for $5, a sequined top for $1 and a Kenneth Cole dress for $5. Call it “vintage” not used and add instant chic. The Nikipedia is the queen of finds, but it really just takes a little browsing, particularly if you can find one that specializes in upscale second hand. Library book sales are amazing—it just makes me heartsick to see books for which I’ve paid $29.95 (still unread) going for $1. A lot of libraries in our area have permanent for-sale shelves or even for-sale rooms. You can come up with a nice armload of mysteries or historicals or biographies, wrap it in a big box and give a huge present for $10, while helping the library. Cheaper than the fines some of us pay, ahem.
Those same libraries, or nearby universities, have concert series for no or very low cost. How about making up a schedule and buying tickets, or designing some fake ones and provide the transportation and companionship to go with them. Me, I’d be delighted to have a friend make a commitment to attend a free series with me—so often I don’t go if I don’t have someone to go with me. And wouldn’t it be fun to have a regular “date” with a friend to do such a fun thing? Or if you’re going to purchase tickets for someone, how about favoring small theater groups, new music or early music ensembles, or student performances? These people can really use support in building an audience, and you’ll be giving something a lot more original than a gift card to the local megaplex.
Finally, don’t buy jewelry as gifts until you check out your local crafts fair or bead store. To my intense aggravation when I’m a seller, people at craft fairs often price jewelry ridiculously low, and have said to me that they just want to get their materials costs back so they can make some more. Grrrgh, but it’s great if you’re the buyer. Also, if you have the slightest jewelry making skills, at a bead store you can put together a nice gemstone bead necklace (often with loaner tools on the premises and the help of the owner) for a fraction of the department store cost. One of the bead stores in my town used to display pictures from the Sundance catalog next to nearly identical beads that you could use to make your own for about 25% of the cost. Also, take a look at the stuff on Etsy.com. My New Year’s resolution is to put stuff in my own “store” there, but in the meantime, there’s plenty of nifty things to buy, all made by highly creative kitchen table entrepreneurs.
Now, do I get an award as Santa’s little helper?
My first suggestion is, shop locally. No, I don’t mean your local Ann Taylor or Coldwater Creek (okay, please shop at Coldwater Creek—I have stock in them and it stinks lately), I mean creative, single store merchants that have a personal vision and are selling something unique—the individual clothing shop, the local antiques merchant, the floral or plant store. People that own and run these stores are doing it as much for love as money, and they’ll be willing to talk over your problem giftees and help you come up with something. Shop there before all individuality is eaten alive by mega-corporation homogenization.
Second idea is, how about donating to a charity that has a nifty premium for a gift? National Wildlife Federation has a lot of adorable plushies and great magazines for adults and kids. Ditto World Wildlife Fund, Sierra Club, Audubon, Defenders of Wildlife, etc. I admit I don’t get a real gift thrill out of just making a donation, but these organizations have figured out that it’s a lot more fun if you have something to wrap up, or a nifty magazine.
While we’re on the subject of magazines, most of them are struggling. You can find a magazine for nearly anyone on your list—New Moon is terrific for tweens, and Carus publications has a ton for different age brackets (literary, social sciences and science). For adults, too—go to your local (preferably independent) bookseller, look through the racks and racks, pick one out, mail one of the hundreds of blown-in subscription cards and wrap up the sample. Me, I love Somerset Studio, Belle Armoire, Threads, The Washington Monthly, Marie-Claire Idées, Poets & Writers, Piano, and an armload of others (hint, hint).
A more unusual variation of the magazine gift is the literary journal subscription. In my book these have some distinct advantages: they don’t publish as frequently, hence they don’t remind me of the kind of machine that keeps spitting tennis balls at you, and I don’t add to my six foot bedside stack; and they’re smaller and you can stuff them in a pocket or purse more easily. Ones that I really like or have liked in the past include Alimentum, Granta, Glimmer Train, The Believer, and The Sun. I’ll be reviewing these in more depth one of these days.
If you’re really broke and live near a major city, I have three ideas. Do a search of second hand stores and library used book sales. The stuff at second hand stores can be unbelievable—recent finds include an Irish fisherman handknit sweater for $5, a sequined top for $1 and a Kenneth Cole dress for $5. Call it “vintage” not used and add instant chic. The Nikipedia is the queen of finds, but it really just takes a little browsing, particularly if you can find one that specializes in upscale second hand. Library book sales are amazing—it just makes me heartsick to see books for which I’ve paid $29.95 (still unread) going for $1. A lot of libraries in our area have permanent for-sale shelves or even for-sale rooms. You can come up with a nice armload of mysteries or historicals or biographies, wrap it in a big box and give a huge present for $10, while helping the library. Cheaper than the fines some of us pay, ahem.
Those same libraries, or nearby universities, have concert series for no or very low cost. How about making up a schedule and buying tickets, or designing some fake ones and provide the transportation and companionship to go with them. Me, I’d be delighted to have a friend make a commitment to attend a free series with me—so often I don’t go if I don’t have someone to go with me. And wouldn’t it be fun to have a regular “date” with a friend to do such a fun thing? Or if you’re going to purchase tickets for someone, how about favoring small theater groups, new music or early music ensembles, or student performances? These people can really use support in building an audience, and you’ll be giving something a lot more original than a gift card to the local megaplex.
Finally, don’t buy jewelry as gifts until you check out your local crafts fair or bead store. To my intense aggravation when I’m a seller, people at craft fairs often price jewelry ridiculously low, and have said to me that they just want to get their materials costs back so they can make some more. Grrrgh, but it’s great if you’re the buyer. Also, if you have the slightest jewelry making skills, at a bead store you can put together a nice gemstone bead necklace (often with loaner tools on the premises and the help of the owner) for a fraction of the department store cost. One of the bead stores in my town used to display pictures from the Sundance catalog next to nearly identical beads that you could use to make your own for about 25% of the cost. Also, take a look at the stuff on Etsy.com. My New Year’s resolution is to put stuff in my own “store” there, but in the meantime, there’s plenty of nifty things to buy, all made by highly creative kitchen table entrepreneurs.
Now, do I get an award as Santa’s little helper?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
It’s a living
It ain’t easy making a living as any kind of artist. I wish I had a signed contract for every time I’ve heard a parent tell me, “Oh, my kid is so creative [fill in artist, actor, writer, dancer, whatever] but I’m telling him or her to major in [physics, accounting, chemistry, education—whatever the parent thinks is “practical”] because, of course, you can’t make a living at it.”
Well, the truth is, you can and this is dumb advice. Tons of people make a living every day at these professions, and there are plenty of out-of-work computer science majors. But, the employment path is fairly clear for computer science or chemistry: get the degree and get someone to hire you. The path for the arts is not: get the degree (or maybe not), get someone to hire you (or maybe not), sell your services, get a day gig (or maybe not)…but just because it’s not clear doesn’t make it un-doable. What does it require? Well, duh, it requires CREATIVITY.
If you want to eat and be any kind of artist, you need to think outside the box, not only with your art, but with your marketing, packaging, and bill paying. Maybe you will need to cobble together several jobs, sell several different versions of what you do, find a non-demanding dumb job (plenty of novelists have worked for the customs house, or the post office, or waiting tables) so you can still think and are raring to go when you get home.
But what these parents don’t tell their kids, what actually would be worthwhile advice, is that if you want to live by art, you'd better minor in business or plan to teach at some level. Acquiring the acumen to run a business, market, set up your website and social networking blitz—they’re all essential or no one is ever going to hear about your art.
Just like dating. It’s unlikely that anyone is ever going to arrive on a white horse. And if they do, it’s because you already have the door open and are looking out for the whinnying.
Two good books about making a living in one of the arts (writing):
Well, the truth is, you can and this is dumb advice. Tons of people make a living every day at these professions, and there are plenty of out-of-work computer science majors. But, the employment path is fairly clear for computer science or chemistry: get the degree and get someone to hire you. The path for the arts is not: get the degree (or maybe not), get someone to hire you (or maybe not), sell your services, get a day gig (or maybe not)…but just because it’s not clear doesn’t make it un-doable. What does it require? Well, duh, it requires CREATIVITY.
If you want to eat and be any kind of artist, you need to think outside the box, not only with your art, but with your marketing, packaging, and bill paying. Maybe you will need to cobble together several jobs, sell several different versions of what you do, find a non-demanding dumb job (plenty of novelists have worked for the customs house, or the post office, or waiting tables) so you can still think and are raring to go when you get home.
But what these parents don’t tell their kids, what actually would be worthwhile advice, is that if you want to live by art, you'd better minor in business or plan to teach at some level. Acquiring the acumen to run a business, market, set up your website and social networking blitz—they’re all essential or no one is ever going to hear about your art.
Just like dating. It’s unlikely that anyone is ever going to arrive on a white horse. And if they do, it’s because you already have the door open and are looking out for the whinnying.
Two good books about making a living in one of the arts (writing):
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