I went to a writing conference this weekend. My head is packed with new knowledge, I met some fascinating people, and I am itching to write. Now I know exactly what I am doing well and what I am doing wrong, so from here on, everything I write will be flawless. I need to buy some black turtleneck sweaters.
A lot of the conference was spent in discussing the bleak realities of publication. Nobody is reading, publishers are closing, great writers get rejected, blah blah blah. Faces slumped and shoulders crumpled. I experienced the opposite effect. I got really excited about drafting a manuscript over and over for years and being misunderstood by everybody. Lost causes motivate me. The more futile they are, the more thrilling. I like being the downtrodden minority.
Also, I learned that the secret to being a great writer is to have a dysfunctional family. I am now reconsidering marriage.
Mini NaNoWriMo starts April 1. 833 words per day, which is a challenging goal but not overwhelming. I hope to cultivate sustainable writing habits while preserving most of my other leisure time.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
More on Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell
I did finish reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke, which I had begun reviewing in this prior post. Immediately after completing it, I purchased my own copy (my first copy was from the library). You may not borrow my copy. I will need to dip into it now and then. I thought about buying two copies, one to keep at hand and one to lend out or give away. When my next extravagant mood strikes, I will.
The book is powerful, complicated, and rich. It is a book for bookish people. The two main characters love nothing more than books--a Hermione-like hoarding and quoting tendency--and I identified so strongly with it that at times I wondered how I could fire-proof my own vulnerable collection.
It is a heavily footnoted book. The footnotes refer to portions of backstory, and almost every one was an independent novel-nugget of itself. I love annotations and I found these to be deliciously distracting.
The book is packed with events that shocked me, and so I was curious how things could possibly escalate in the end. I was not disappointed. The plot twist which occurred to lead Act II into Act III was so alarming that I had to shut the book and stare out into space for a few minutes to recover from my surprise.
I have no complaints about Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. However, I will mention that the same people who complained about Harry Potter #7 will complain about this one. It is a long book, and maybe, just maybe, not every paragraph is absolutely essential to the plot. But I embraced every word and I would have preferred it to be longer.
You should read this book. It is my responsibility to ensure that you do not delay for one more minute.
I close with a representative quote. This is from Mr Norrell's point of view. We have an opinion in common.
From chapter four:
And how to describe a London party? Candles in lustres of cut-glass are placed everywhere about the house in dazzling profusion; elegant mirrors triple and quadruple the light until night outshines day; many-coloured hothouse fruits are piled up in stately pyramids upon white-clothed tables; divine creatures, resplendent with jewels, go about the room in pairs, arm in arm, admired by all who see them. Yet the heat is over-powering, the pressure and noise almost as bad; there is nowhere to sit and scarce anywhere to stand. You may see your dearest friend in another part of the room; you may have a world of things to tell him - but how in the world will you ever reach him? If you are fortunate then perhaps you will discover him later in the crush and shake his hand as you are both hurried past each other. Surrounded by cross, hot strangers, your chance of rational conversation is equal to what it would be in an African desert. Your only wish is to preserve your favourite gown from the worst ravages of the crowd. Every body complains of the heat and the suffocation. Every body declares it to be entirely insufferable. But if it is all misery for the guests, then what of the wretchedness of those who have not been invited? Our sufferings are nothing to theirs! And we may tell each other tomorrow that it was a delightful party.
The book is powerful, complicated, and rich. It is a book for bookish people. The two main characters love nothing more than books--a Hermione-like hoarding and quoting tendency--and I identified so strongly with it that at times I wondered how I could fire-proof my own vulnerable collection.
It is a heavily footnoted book. The footnotes refer to portions of backstory, and almost every one was an independent novel-nugget of itself. I love annotations and I found these to be deliciously distracting.
The book is packed with events that shocked me, and so I was curious how things could possibly escalate in the end. I was not disappointed. The plot twist which occurred to lead Act II into Act III was so alarming that I had to shut the book and stare out into space for a few minutes to recover from my surprise.
I have no complaints about Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. However, I will mention that the same people who complained about Harry Potter #7 will complain about this one. It is a long book, and maybe, just maybe, not every paragraph is absolutely essential to the plot. But I embraced every word and I would have preferred it to be longer.
You should read this book. It is my responsibility to ensure that you do not delay for one more minute.
I close with a representative quote. This is from Mr Norrell's point of view. We have an opinion in common.
From chapter four:
And how to describe a London party? Candles in lustres of cut-glass are placed everywhere about the house in dazzling profusion; elegant mirrors triple and quadruple the light until night outshines day; many-coloured hothouse fruits are piled up in stately pyramids upon white-clothed tables; divine creatures, resplendent with jewels, go about the room in pairs, arm in arm, admired by all who see them. Yet the heat is over-powering, the pressure and noise almost as bad; there is nowhere to sit and scarce anywhere to stand. You may see your dearest friend in another part of the room; you may have a world of things to tell him - but how in the world will you ever reach him? If you are fortunate then perhaps you will discover him later in the crush and shake his hand as you are both hurried past each other. Surrounded by cross, hot strangers, your chance of rational conversation is equal to what it would be in an African desert. Your only wish is to preserve your favourite gown from the worst ravages of the crowd. Every body complains of the heat and the suffocation. Every body declares it to be entirely insufferable. But if it is all misery for the guests, then what of the wretchedness of those who have not been invited? Our sufferings are nothing to theirs! And we may tell each other tomorrow that it was a delightful party.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Animals
Yesterday I looked at my backyard and saw a cardinal, two woodpeckers, and a young rabbit. I nodded at the signs of spring and returned to my book.
Soon after, I was startled at the movement of something giant out there, seen in my peripheral vision. I thought it must be a child or a large dog. It was a turkey! It was three times larger than Trixie!
It is not uncommon to see turkeys wandering around my neighborhood in the fall. I have never seem them around in the spring. Somehow I thought that they only existed for three months of the year.
The turkey wandered off into the shrubbery and I lost sight of it. I haven't seen it since.
Soon after, I was startled at the movement of something giant out there, seen in my peripheral vision. I thought it must be a child or a large dog. It was a turkey! It was three times larger than Trixie!
It is not uncommon to see turkeys wandering around my neighborhood in the fall. I have never seem them around in the spring. Somehow I thought that they only existed for three months of the year.
The turkey wandered off into the shrubbery and I lost sight of it. I haven't seen it since.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Today's Secret Ingredient Is.......
I have many things happening all at once. Here is a summary.
-I am healthy again. I have looked into the garlic and rhinovirus connection, which has never failed me before. It turns out that most, but not all, cold viruses are susceptible to garlic. The one I had was certainly an exception and must have been imported from Italy.
-My internet has been fixed and I am pleased to report that it was not a user problem, nor was it a computer problem. My hunch was right--my internet did not work when it was raining. There was a wet cable connector outside.
-An animal has moved into my attic. Something with teeth and claws, because I hear it chewing and scratching. Lately it has been very quiet, probably preparing to bring babies into the world. I know that I should do something about it, and my long-term readers will recall that I have connections to various pest control companies all over town, so it really wouldn't be too much trouble to phone my old friends. But somehow I feel disinclined to take immediate action. Let the expectant mother rest.
-I am in the midst of a challenge to do 100 consecutive pushups. The program is here: http://www.hundredpushups.com/ . I am addicted to goals and challenges, I think. I am in week three of six. My arms and shoulders look more firm and shapely (that is, a more flattering shape) than before, I think. Trixie is baffled by my behaviors.
-The vegetarian adventures continue. I made this amazing apple chard quiche, posted and lovingly described by a college acquaintance of mine. I am thankful that pie crusts are sold as twins because I will be making this again next week. I am a fan of rainbow chard (the cheerful stalks!) and was pleased to find another use for it. I also appreciate cooking with apples in savory dishes and I wish I had discovered the pairing of eggs and apples sooner. The pie crust deflates my low-carb tendencies, but in its defense, note that this is a rare quiche recipe to not contain several cups of heavy cream.
-My News Years resolution had something to do with posting more fiction on here and you might think that I only dimly remember. I will gain some motivation from attending a three-day writing conference this weekend (I can't wait! I requested these days off from work nine months ago!) and then I will jump right into the Mini NaNoWriMo for April. However, that may not necessarily result in tons of words getting posted here. I like to guard my first drafts closely until they are more fully formed. Releasing them early, piece-meal, makes me feel self-conscious and cramps my creativity. But I'll see what I can do.
-I am still running and training for a 5K. But I am dealing with shin splints, which are horrible. I'm planning to get fitted for better shoes. But I think that I am making steady improvements from a cardiovascular point of view. My legs wear out before my lungs do.
-And now for my favorite item, the item which explains the blog title. I always pre-plan my menus for the week and enter the grocery store with a list. I love dawdling in grocery stores and surprise items enter my cart now and then, but I rarely end up with something that I have no idea what to do with. That will change! Another challenge! I am joining a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). I purchase a "share" of an organic farm, and every week I will get a large box of surprise produce. I am brimming over with glee already, and this won't even start until June. I am determined to waste as little as humanly possible and so there may be times where I am scrambling to consume 5 cauliflowers or 4 bunches of rhubarb or 6 sacks of arugula in one week. This will stretch my creative cooking muscles.
The CSA that I am joining is Vermont Valley, for a standard produce share. They deliver right to the hospital where I work. Click on the produce link and feast your eyes on what I will be expecting, June through October. Trixie may be munching on real pumpkin rather than the canned variety!
-I am healthy again. I have looked into the garlic and rhinovirus connection, which has never failed me before. It turns out that most, but not all, cold viruses are susceptible to garlic. The one I had was certainly an exception and must have been imported from Italy.
-My internet has been fixed and I am pleased to report that it was not a user problem, nor was it a computer problem. My hunch was right--my internet did not work when it was raining. There was a wet cable connector outside.
-An animal has moved into my attic. Something with teeth and claws, because I hear it chewing and scratching. Lately it has been very quiet, probably preparing to bring babies into the world. I know that I should do something about it, and my long-term readers will recall that I have connections to various pest control companies all over town, so it really wouldn't be too much trouble to phone my old friends. But somehow I feel disinclined to take immediate action. Let the expectant mother rest.
-I am in the midst of a challenge to do 100 consecutive pushups. The program is here: http://www.hundredpushups.com/ . I am addicted to goals and challenges, I think. I am in week three of six. My arms and shoulders look more firm and shapely (that is, a more flattering shape) than before, I think. Trixie is baffled by my behaviors.
-The vegetarian adventures continue. I made this amazing apple chard quiche, posted and lovingly described by a college acquaintance of mine. I am thankful that pie crusts are sold as twins because I will be making this again next week. I am a fan of rainbow chard (the cheerful stalks!) and was pleased to find another use for it. I also appreciate cooking with apples in savory dishes and I wish I had discovered the pairing of eggs and apples sooner. The pie crust deflates my low-carb tendencies, but in its defense, note that this is a rare quiche recipe to not contain several cups of heavy cream.
-My News Years resolution had something to do with posting more fiction on here and you might think that I only dimly remember. I will gain some motivation from attending a three-day writing conference this weekend (I can't wait! I requested these days off from work nine months ago!) and then I will jump right into the Mini NaNoWriMo for April. However, that may not necessarily result in tons of words getting posted here. I like to guard my first drafts closely until they are more fully formed. Releasing them early, piece-meal, makes me feel self-conscious and cramps my creativity. But I'll see what I can do.
-I am still running and training for a 5K. But I am dealing with shin splints, which are horrible. I'm planning to get fitted for better shoes. But I think that I am making steady improvements from a cardiovascular point of view. My legs wear out before my lungs do.
-And now for my favorite item, the item which explains the blog title. I always pre-plan my menus for the week and enter the grocery store with a list. I love dawdling in grocery stores and surprise items enter my cart now and then, but I rarely end up with something that I have no idea what to do with. That will change! Another challenge! I am joining a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). I purchase a "share" of an organic farm, and every week I will get a large box of surprise produce. I am brimming over with glee already, and this won't even start until June. I am determined to waste as little as humanly possible and so there may be times where I am scrambling to consume 5 cauliflowers or 4 bunches of rhubarb or 6 sacks of arugula in one week. This will stretch my creative cooking muscles.
The CSA that I am joining is Vermont Valley, for a standard produce share. They deliver right to the hospital where I work. Click on the produce link and feast your eyes on what I will be expecting, June through October. Trixie may be munching on real pumpkin rather than the canned variety!
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Vegetarian Venturings
First I cut carbs. Then I cut coffee. Now I'm reducing meat. Not completely eliminating it. It is too difficult to be both low-carb and vegetarian. But I have lately felt guilty about eating meat three times per day. It is unnecessarily extravagant. I have been focusing on eggs, legumes, and seafood as the protein centerpieces for a few meals per week.
Recently I found this lentil loaf on Whipped, which reminded me of a similar recipe that Kevin pointed out, and this other Giada De Laurentis lentil loaf which I made years ago--it was incredible but definitely a weekend project to assemble.
The lentil loaf from Whipped was simple to construct, especially since I cooked the brown rice the night before. I used salsa rather than BBQ sauce and scallions rather than cilantro; I thought that the recommended ingredients might seem overwhelming.
Result: I LOVE CHEESY LENTIL LOAF. The tamari and salsa were excellent additions. The cheese formed a crunchy cheddary goodness on the top and sides. I appreciate the use of red lentils, which have a milder flavor than the brown and cook faster. The recipe is supposed to serve four, and I had intended to bring leftovers for lunch to work this weekend. I don't think that it will really last for three more meals.
(Oh yeah, I ate a larger piece than what I photographed here. But my second piece wasn't photo-worthy.)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Calamity
On Monday, I began a stretch of eight days of consecutive working.
A coworker offered me a potato chip after one hour of working. An excessively crunchy "kettle-cooked" potato chip. I am not accustomed to eating chips. I wasn't really hungry. But it is deliciously evil to eat food in the hospital in places where employee eating is frowned upon. I ate the chip.
It was all downhill from there.
I ate it fast so that the clandestine eating would remain undetected. My throat got scratchy from the sturdy potato. My mouth got dry.
By the time I found water and an officially approved location in which to drink it, two hours later, it was too late. My throat was inflamed and exquisitely tender. My voice was husky. I was ill.
On Tuesday I could hardly speak and wasn't even interested in drinking coffee. On Wednesday I blew my nose every five minutes, and then washed my hands, and then forgot what I was working on, remembered it again, and then left to blow my nose. On Thursday I requested that my nose be temporarily removed and stored on ice for a few days. On Friday I coughed and barked and chain-dissolved lozenges.
I rarely get colds. I consider them an unaffordable indulgence. When I feel one coming on, I thoroughly chew a raw garlic clove, drink gallons of hot tea, and sleep late. Usually the cold retreats entirely under this assault, or dwindles after a day or two. I scoff at over-the-counter cold medications. The products do not alter the natural course of the disease and only wimpy people use them.
On Wednesday I jogged to the outpatient pharmacy and bought most of the cold medications on the shelves.
I rarely get colds. I am not handling this one gracefully. The one good thing about the situation is that Trixie is entirely sympathetic to my plight. She looks at me sadly when I cough. She snuggles up to me while I sit antihistamine-dazed on the couch and rests her head on my knees. She delicately nibbles the corners of the Kleenex box.
Coinciding with my illness, the weather took a nasty turn with below-zero windchills and my internet service collapsed. It is still down. I am typing this from a coffee shop.
I discussed my internet disaster with my service provider for two hours yesterday. Our communication problems were considerable. I could only hear what was happening in my head, and I needed to take breaks to cough. He had a rich and fuzzy accent. It took a while to get past the basics (Is it plugged in? Are the lights on? Have you tried rebooting?). It turns out that the problem is likely a broken cable outside my house. Someone will come by and fix it on Tuesday, maybe.
So, my presence on Facebook will be sporadic. Which would be fine. Except that suddenly I have nine hundred FB messages that I desperately need to answer, immediately.
A coworker offered me a potato chip after one hour of working. An excessively crunchy "kettle-cooked" potato chip. I am not accustomed to eating chips. I wasn't really hungry. But it is deliciously evil to eat food in the hospital in places where employee eating is frowned upon. I ate the chip.
It was all downhill from there.
I ate it fast so that the clandestine eating would remain undetected. My throat got scratchy from the sturdy potato. My mouth got dry.
By the time I found water and an officially approved location in which to drink it, two hours later, it was too late. My throat was inflamed and exquisitely tender. My voice was husky. I was ill.
On Tuesday I could hardly speak and wasn't even interested in drinking coffee. On Wednesday I blew my nose every five minutes, and then washed my hands, and then forgot what I was working on, remembered it again, and then left to blow my nose. On Thursday I requested that my nose be temporarily removed and stored on ice for a few days. On Friday I coughed and barked and chain-dissolved lozenges.
I rarely get colds. I consider them an unaffordable indulgence. When I feel one coming on, I thoroughly chew a raw garlic clove, drink gallons of hot tea, and sleep late. Usually the cold retreats entirely under this assault, or dwindles after a day or two. I scoff at over-the-counter cold medications. The products do not alter the natural course of the disease and only wimpy people use them.
On Wednesday I jogged to the outpatient pharmacy and bought most of the cold medications on the shelves.
I rarely get colds. I am not handling this one gracefully. The one good thing about the situation is that Trixie is entirely sympathetic to my plight. She looks at me sadly when I cough. She snuggles up to me while I sit antihistamine-dazed on the couch and rests her head on my knees. She delicately nibbles the corners of the Kleenex box.
Coinciding with my illness, the weather took a nasty turn with below-zero windchills and my internet service collapsed. It is still down. I am typing this from a coffee shop.
I discussed my internet disaster with my service provider for two hours yesterday. Our communication problems were considerable. I could only hear what was happening in my head, and I needed to take breaks to cough. He had a rich and fuzzy accent. It took a while to get past the basics (Is it plugged in? Are the lights on? Have you tried rebooting?). It turns out that the problem is likely a broken cable outside my house. Someone will come by and fix it on Tuesday, maybe.
So, my presence on Facebook will be sporadic. Which would be fine. Except that suddenly I have nine hundred FB messages that I desperately need to answer, immediately.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Mini NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo shows me how invigorating a challenge and a deadline can be. It shows me what a tremendous amount of work I can accomplish after I remove reading, exercising, cooking, and television from my life.
But afterwards I fall into a slump. Without any particular goals, I don't get anything particular finished. If not for my writing group, I doubt that I would write much at all apart from journalling. Lately I have just been starting little scraps of story and tossing them around. I haven't worked steadily at one project for more than sitting since December. This kind of work isn't without value, but I need both short and long-term plans.
So, I present a challenge to myself and anyone else who wants to join in. A Mini NaNoWriMo in April 2009, which will require 25,000 words written in 30 days. This is half the length of the normal November NaNoWriMo. That is 833 words per day, which is about 2 or 2.5 pages depending on how much dialogue is on the page. I chose April because I am attending a 3-day writing conference at the end of March, so I should be really excited about writing around that time.
The Rules:
I actually like strict rules for writing projects. I like limitations. If you don't like mine, then make your own.
1) No words of the actual manuscript may be typed or written prior to 12:01 a.m. April 1, 2009.
2) Preplanning is allowed (outlining, character bios, maps of magical land, etc) but only for a maximum of seven days and only during the seven days prior to April 1. Reason: if I do too much preplanning, then I arrive with high expectations, and I become bitterly disappointed with how the first chapter evolves, and I become too frightened to ruin my dreams further.
3) The 25,000 words should all be one project. There may not be enough pages to encompass a novel's beginning, middle, and end in its entirety. It is OK to jump from scene to scene. Fiction, nonfiction, a series of related short stories, or a series of related poems are OK. But random scraps of unrelated beginnings are frowned upon.
4) Do not take a break of more than one day away from the manuscript, even if you are ahead on the daily word quota.
Anyone in? I'll mention it again before March is over!
But afterwards I fall into a slump. Without any particular goals, I don't get anything particular finished. If not for my writing group, I doubt that I would write much at all apart from journalling. Lately I have just been starting little scraps of story and tossing them around. I haven't worked steadily at one project for more than sitting since December. This kind of work isn't without value, but I need both short and long-term plans.
So, I present a challenge to myself and anyone else who wants to join in. A Mini NaNoWriMo in April 2009, which will require 25,000 words written in 30 days. This is half the length of the normal November NaNoWriMo. That is 833 words per day, which is about 2 or 2.5 pages depending on how much dialogue is on the page. I chose April because I am attending a 3-day writing conference at the end of March, so I should be really excited about writing around that time.
The Rules:
I actually like strict rules for writing projects. I like limitations. If you don't like mine, then make your own.
1) No words of the actual manuscript may be typed or written prior to 12:01 a.m. April 1, 2009.
2) Preplanning is allowed (outlining, character bios, maps of magical land, etc) but only for a maximum of seven days and only during the seven days prior to April 1. Reason: if I do too much preplanning, then I arrive with high expectations, and I become bitterly disappointed with how the first chapter evolves, and I become too frightened to ruin my dreams further.
3) The 25,000 words should all be one project. There may not be enough pages to encompass a novel's beginning, middle, and end in its entirety. It is OK to jump from scene to scene. Fiction, nonfiction, a series of related short stories, or a series of related poems are OK. But random scraps of unrelated beginnings are frowned upon.
4) Do not take a break of more than one day away from the manuscript, even if you are ahead on the daily word quota.
Anyone in? I'll mention it again before March is over!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Enthralled
Usually I wait to post a book review until after I finish the book. I am compelled to compose an update upon reaching the 1/3 mark of this one.
I have lately been trapped in my armchair reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke, incapable of spending any quality time on the internet. It is as rich as cheesecake and I am unable and unwilling to rush the consumption of its pages.
A representative excerpt (from chapter 23):
The gates had been made of fine Castillian wrought iron, but were now rusted to a dark, vivid red and their original form was very much decayed and shrivelled. Mr Segundus's hand came away with dusty traces upon it as if a million dried and powdered roses had been compacted and formed into the dreamlike semblance of a gate. The curling iron had been further ornamented with little bas-reliefs of wicked, laughing faces, now ember-red and disintegrating, as if the part of Hell where these heathens were now resident was in the charge of an inattentive demon who had allowed his furnace to get too hot.
I had to savor that deliciously gothic paragraph several times over before continuing on, and they weren't even in the house yet. Every page of this book is packed with these descriptions.
Full review to arrive later.
I have lately been trapped in my armchair reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke, incapable of spending any quality time on the internet. It is as rich as cheesecake and I am unable and unwilling to rush the consumption of its pages.
A representative excerpt (from chapter 23):
The gates had been made of fine Castillian wrought iron, but were now rusted to a dark, vivid red and their original form was very much decayed and shrivelled. Mr Segundus's hand came away with dusty traces upon it as if a million dried and powdered roses had been compacted and formed into the dreamlike semblance of a gate. The curling iron had been further ornamented with little bas-reliefs of wicked, laughing faces, now ember-red and disintegrating, as if the part of Hell where these heathens were now resident was in the charge of an inattentive demon who had allowed his furnace to get too hot.
I had to savor that deliciously gothic paragraph several times over before continuing on, and they weren't even in the house yet. Every page of this book is packed with these descriptions.
Full review to arrive later.
Trixie in the Armchair
Finally, some pictures where Trixie is not partially hidden in her favorite blanket. Waiting patiently for me to finish taking pictures and resume reading together.
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