Archive for August 2009

Cowspotting

August 16, 2009

Stuck in city this hot weekend, thought of this country, contrary, poem.

Cowspotting

He said that cows always faced
In the same direction.
As in Mecca?
I asked, sarcastic.
As in a field,
he corrected.
You just look in any field,
he said.
The cows will all be facing
the same way.

We curved around
shallow hills spotted
with the honey brown shanks of still cattle.
Look,
I said, that one’s
completely sideways.
An anomaly
, he said.  The exception
that proves the rule.  There’s always one.

If he was someone who always had to be right,
I was someone who had to be righter.

For years afterwards,
even though I got to the country only occasionally,
I carefully checked the collective stance
of cows, never accepting a near unanimity of
moist soft snout.
Not even once.

All rights reserved.

If you prefer elephants to cows, or if you just like elephants as well as cows, check out 1 Mississippi at link above.

Blocking Writer’s Block Part VII – Don’t Show Draft Manuscripts Too Soon

August 16, 2009

Rule No.  9  –  Be Brave but Know Yourself.  Don’t Show Drafts Too Soon.

In Part VI of this series, as Rule No. 8, I wrote, Be Brave, Read Aloud.  That post was about the liberation of reading your writing exercises aloud to your writing buddy, almost immediately following the writing of them.

This type of immediate reading is very different from handing out a written draft of your work, a manuscript.  In that case, I would not urge bravery, so much as self-knowledge.  (Or perhaps bravery and self-knowledge.)

Here’s the gist of it (for me at least):

I am incredibly insecure.  Especially about writing.

It’s frankly amazing to me that I can do this blog.  ( All I can think of is that it must have something to do with Robert Pattinson.  I mean, if you’re going to be silly, you might as well take it to the max!)   Even so, the night that I realized a guy in my office had discovered my blog name, I got physically ill.  I thought I would simply have to drop the whole thing.

But I kept on.  Because it really is useful for a writer to have a sense of audience (even a slightly noncomprehending one).

I also believe that, if you ever wish to publicize your work, it’s important to expand the limits of what you can tolerate–your comfort level, or perhaps more accurately, your discomfort level.    Keep in mind that even when your discomfort level gets quite high (that is, when you can tolerate a whole bunch of it),  you should not expect the discomfort to convert to ease.   You will still feel uncomfortable with many of the same things, the difference is that you will be able to breathe through more of them.

That said, be very careful of prematurely sharing work that is truly important to you.  The danger is not copyright infringement so much as ego infringement.  Ego incapacitation.

The showing of a manuscript can be paralyzing.  I usually cannot revisit the project when it is out with a reader.   If I do try to re-read it, it’s like looking at a mirror under an interrogator’s bright light.   Every single blotch shows up.  Stain, tear.  (How could I not realize that I had a long strand of toilet paper hanging out from under my skirt?)

Even after comments have been delivered, it can be difficult to pick up the work again.

A caveat to this rule.  The process does get considerably better with time. And, frankly, it is crucial to show manuscripts to test readers.  (Your goal is to produce a good manuscript after all, not to simply shield your ego.)

One way to reduce the possible unpleasantness of showing work  is simply to really know your manuscript.  A good technique here is to wait a few weeks without looking at the manuscript before giving it to anyone else.  Then, still before you give it out, read it again yourself.  (If you can stomach it, read it aloud to yourself.)

When you do give the manuscript out, try to separate yourself from it so that any criticisms will not seem to be shots at you personally.  In other words, go back to Rule No. 1 (in Part I of blocking writer’s block):  don’t care so much.

At the same time, don’t forget Rule No. 2 – care.   Care enough to want to make your manuscript better.  Accept that part of that process is finding out what just doesn’t work.

Most importantly, look for a sympathetic reader, ideally, someone who is also interested in writing.  People who are not writers will not realize (i) the amount of work you have done or (ii) how sensitive you are.

But be sensible as well as sensitive.  If the manuscript is about your childhood, maybe your mother, or even sibling, is not the best first reader.  If it’s about your marriage, maybe you should  start with someone other than your spouse.   If it’s about Robert Pattinson, probably best to avoid your boss.

If you are interested in counting and elephants and watercolors, as well as writing, check out 1 Mississippi at link above or on Amazon.  Thanks!

Writer’s Block – Part , Rule No. Don’t Show Your Drafts Too Soon.

In Part of this series, Rule No. , I said Be Brave, Read Aloud. I meant by that to read your writing exercises aloud to your writing buddy, almost immediately following your first writing of them. This type of exposure of work that is absolutely fresh (and clearly clearly a draft) is incredibly exhilarating. And the great thing about reading aloud is that you’re not actually showing anything to anyone—you read the words aloud, and then you can basically swallow them again. You can keep them private as long as you wish.

For me this type of immediate reading is very different than actually handing out a written draft. In the case of written drafts, I’m not sure that I would urge bravery, so much as self-knowledge. And, if you are someone who is prone to writer’s block, you may wish to exercise some caution.

Here’s the gist of it for me at least:

I am incredibly insecure. Especially about writing.

It’s frankly amazing to me that I can do this blog at all. All I can think of is that it must have something to do with Robert Pattinson. (I mean, if you’re going to be silly, you might as well take it to the max!) Even so, the night that I realized a guy in my office had discovered my blog name, I got physically ill. I thought I would simply have to drop the whole thing.

But I kept on. Because it really is useful for a writer to have a channel, some sense of audience (even perhaps a slightly noncomprehending one). Writing is lonely enough as it is; if it is not a tool of communication (simply because no one reads it), the activity becomes very hard to sustain.

Another reason I kept on is because I truly believe that it’s important to try at least to expand the limits of what one can tolerate–one’s comfort level, or perhaps more accurately, one’s discomfort level. This comfort or discomfort level is very different from the comfort zone. If you ever wish to put any of your work in public, it is important to expand the level of discomfort that you can tolerate. Keep in mind that eve when your discomfort level gets quite high (that is, when you can tolerate a whole bunch of it), you should not expect the discomfort to convert to ease (to any kind of zone). Many of the same things will still be uncomfortable to you, you should will be able to breathe through them.

That said, be careful of prematurely sharing work that is truly important to you. By work, I mean a manuscript which is still in process. Because I know a little about law, a lot of people ask me questions about manuscripts and copyright infringement. But the danger here is not copyright infringement so much as ego infringement. Ego incapacitation.

The showing of a manuscript can be paralyzing (at least to me). I usually cannot revisit the project when it is out with another reader. If I do look at it, it’s like looking at a mirror under a spot light. Every single blotch shows up. Stain, tear. (Oh, and by the way, did you realize you had a long strand of toilet paper hanging from under your skirt?)

Even after the reader is finished, even after comments have been delivered, it can sometimes be very very difficult for me to pick up the work again.

A caveat to this rule. The process of showing work does get considerably better with time. And in general it is actually crucial to show manuscripts to readers. The comments of others are absolutely invaluable. (Your goal is to produce a good manuscript after all, not to simply prop up your ego with fake pats on the back.)

But if you are prone to writer’s block, take care. Know your discomfort limit. Know your reader. Know your manuscript too.

One technique is to wait a few weeks without looking at the manuscript before giving it to anyone else. Then, still before you give it out, to read it again yourself. At this point, you yourself will be more of a fresh reader, and can perhaps see the weak spots yourself.

When you do give the manuscript out, try to separate yourself from it a bit so that any criticisms will not seem to be shots at you so much as at the manuscript. In other words, go back to Rule No. 1 (in Part I of blocking writer’s block): don’t care so much.

At the same time, don’t forget Rule No. 2 – care. Remember your goal is to write a good manuscript, a great manuscript. Care enough to make it better.

One last tip—look for a sympathetic reader, ideally, someone who is also interested in writing. People may not realize (i) the amount of work you have done or (ii) how sensitve you are.

Also, be sensible as well as sensitive. If the manuscript is about your childhood, maybe your mother, or even sibling, is not the best first reader. If it’s about your marriage, maybe start with someone other than your spouse. If it’s about Robert Pattinson, probably best to avoid your boss.

Charm, Charisma, Disheveled Hair – Teen Choice Not Swan Lake

August 15, 2009

I know I said I wouldn’t  (see post re not watching the Teen Choice Awards) but I did just watch a couple of clips, very brief ones, with you know who.  (I’ll give you a hint–not Voldemort.)

It’s an interesting lesson in charm.  (I couldn’t stop smiling.)

Yes, I’m sorry, it’s ridiculous.  (See, e.g. post re why my feelings for Robert Pattinson must be strictly maternal.)

Still (watch me try to turn this into an academic issue), I find the whole thing fascinating.  What is it that makes for charm?  Charisma?

In Pattinson’s case, there’s the face, of course.  And body.  And disheveled, hand-raked hair.

But a lot of the actual charm, I think, comes from  (i) his genuine (seemingly genuine) amazement, the fact that he still looks flabbergasted at all the screaming.

(ii) there’s also the seeming politeness.    He put his arm around Megan Fox in a manner that didn’t appear to be the normal gush of Hollywood overfamiliarity, but was friendly, gentlemanly, supporting her as they walked to the stage in the way that an older-fashioned man might take a woman’s arm crossing the street.  (No, it wasn’t  patronizing and yes, I’ve always been very naive.)

He pointedly thanked the fans,  Catherine Hardwick, and Stephenie Meyer.   (All with that same air of Britishy self-deprecating amazement.)

So there’s the charm.

Now the charisma.

Okay, my eyes are drawn to him for some strange reason.  (See again e.g. post re maternal feelings.)   But I don’t think this is just because of the face (or the body).

There is also such a quality as stage presence.  When they flashed the images of the “teen hotties” –what a term!   (see again e.g. post re not watching Teen Choice awards)—I was struck by the fact that the other male choices couldn’t hold my glance even when they were the only ones on the screen.

This evening I was lucky enough to catch the last few minutes of a South Indian dance performance in Battery Park City.  There were two female dancers, both excellent.  Both held their fingers in lotus-like extensions, both flexed their feet, strutting about rhythmically, both opened their eyes wide wide wide.

And yet I found myself focusing almost solely on one.

At first, I wondered if it was because she was on a more convenient side of the stage for my gaze.  (I was sitting at an angle.)  But when the dancers changed sides in the second half of the dance, my focus changed sides as well, my eye still drawn to the one dancer.

I couldn’t understand why.  Because her movements were sharper?  Maybe.  But I could never keep my eyes on the other one long enough to be sure of that.

Were her eyes more animated?  Was her presence more authoritative?

I tried to compare the two dancers, but the only difference I could be certain of was that the one I watched was shorter.

But (as I discovered when she thanked the musicians), she was also the leader of the troupe.

One of the first times I was truly conscious of stage presence was years ago when I was lucky enough to go to the ballet fairly frequently.  I saw Nureyev dance repeatedly.  Your eye (my eye) simply could not leave him when he was onstage.  Even when he was just standing quietly to the side, I watched him, unable to pay attention to the rest of the action, the troupe, even the ballerinas.   Charisma radiated from him like light from a supernova.  He wasn’t a very big person, and, of course, he was dark, his hair dark, the shadows below his cheekbones prominent.  Still, he captured all the light on the stage.

Baryshnikov also commanded the stage, only his charisma seemed to me to come from his skill, his energy, his ebullience.   He was such a great dancer when he first burst on the Western scene—he leapt so incredibly high–you felt like you had to watch him constantly simply so you wouldn’t miss anything.

But Nureyev commanded the stage even in stillness.

Okay Rob, maybe I’m getting grandiose here.  I don’t really think I can compare you to Nureyev, and the Teen Choice Awards (the little I saw) were definitely not Swan Lake.

The actual awards seemed to be full-sized surf boards.

And, frankly,  after all this, I’m beginning to forget about charisma and wonder more about my issues with biggish dark hair, high cheekbones.

Hmm….

Early Saturday Morning Gym

August 15, 2009

(Before reading, you may wish to check out previous post re “Friday Night Gym” for analysis of comparative virtues.)

Five Reasons to Go to The Gym Early Saturday Morning

1.  It makes you feel incredibly disciplined.

2.   It’s not crowded.  The  other people there  look  sleepy-eyed but take-chargey.   You are quite sure, while avoiding all mirrors, that you look super take-chargey.

3.  These take-chargey people do not let the staff vacuum right next to where you huff.    Besides the staff is really sleepy-eyed and not in the mood to vacuum.  (They are the ones that kicked you out last night, remember?)

4.   If you go now, you don’t have to go later,  a time of  serious nautilus puddles.  Let’s not even talk about the Saturday afternoon pool.  (Has anyone studied the human body effects of diaper moisture retardants combined with chlorine? Lots and lots of chlorine?)

5.  You’re getting fat.

Five Reasons Not to Go to the Gym Early Saturday Morning

1.  Who anointed you as the keeper of the Discipline fleece?  And what about the links between sleep and productivity, huh?  Huh?

2.    Who said that “take-chargey” was a good look for you anyway? (BTW, you forgot  to take charge of the puffy circles under your eyes. )

3.  The staff really doesn’t care about your work-out schedule.

4.  If you went later, you could get kicked out at closing and you wouldn’t have to stay there so long.

5.  You’re getting fat no matter what.

If you want something to check out on a Saturday,  try 1 Mississippi at link above or on Amazon.

Ten Ways To Know You’re A Perfectionist

August 14, 2009
  1. You don’t do anything perfectly.
  2. You don’t even do anything very well.   For a short time (while you are in the midst), everything may feel surprisingly hunky-dory, but as soon as you finish, you see exactly where you went wrong.
  3. If you do manage to do something well, it’s an incredibly trivial something.
  4. While what you screw up is vitally important.
  5. When it rains on the day of a picnic that you planned, you apologize.
  6. When it rains on the day of a picnic that you did not plan, you apologize.
  7. When you return your opponent’s tennis ball, managing to score, you apologize.
  8. When you miss your opponent’s tennis ball, allowing him to score but disrupting the flow of the game, you apologize.
  9. After you apologize, you apologize.  (You know how annoying that can be.)
  10. Sorry for that last one.

Friday Night Gym

August 14, 2009

Five Reasons To Go To The Gym Friday Nights

1.  It makes you feel incredibly disciplined.

2.  It’s really uncrowded.

3.  The staff are extremely attentive.

4.  It closes early so you don’t have long to work out.

5.  You’re getting fat.

Five Reasons Not To Go To The Gym Friday Nights

1.  It’s hard to feel good about being disciplined when the rest of the world is out partying.

2.  You see the same old people there every Friday night.  They are beginning to seem very same and very old.  You wonder about your own sameness and oldness quotients.

3.  The staff are so anxious to get rid of you they vacuum right where you huff.   You feel too bereft to ask them to stop, certain that they, at least, have other places to go.

4.  If you’re not going to work out very long, what’s the point?

5.  You’re getting fat anyway.

Friday A.M. – Almost There….

August 14, 2009

10 A miss

From 1 Mississippi,  check it out at link above or Amazon.

All rights reserved.

Parenting – Second Tweenage – Kidults

August 13, 2009

A few years ago, a new age category came into common parlance – “tweens” – kids phasing from childhood to teenagerdom.   I think the category was partly invented as a marketing tool, like a Hallmark card holiday (see e.g. Office Assistant’s Day.)   Tweens seemed to need special merchandise, their own stores, their own books, their own clothes sizes.

I never was conscious of my own children being tweens.  But lately, I’ve been thinking about another transitional age period, which,  for now, I  call “kidulthood.”

Kidulthood extends from age seventeen or eighteen until some time in the mid-twenties.  (Not, let’s hope, beyond that.)

Your children will always be your children.  Even now, my 84 year old mother worries frequently that I get overly tired, and should get that checked out.

Kidults are people whose parents worry that they need a lot of things checked out:  like their teeth or their tickbites, their summer job prospects, or the status of their college applications.

My mother and I differ from kidults and their parents in that the question of who will actually get all these things checked, and who will do the nagging about the checking, has been settled a long time ago.

Kidults and their parents have not quite resolved these issues.  (Well, the nagging part is pretty much settled—that falls on the parent.)

Probably the first experience parents have of kidulthood is the college application process.  Some (possibly mythical) kids take care of the whole college application process completely on their own.   Some (certainly mythical) kids even do all their own financial aid applications.

But some kids need, well, encouragement.

The issues between kidults and their folks usually become somewhat easier once college has been entered, but they can linger.  In fact, once a kid has been more autonomous (or at least been away from home for long periods), and has independently arranged some doctor’s appointments (at least those required for the Pill), the parent can find themselves getting really frustrated.   Because at this point, the kidult oresents the parent’s intervention; while the parent resents the kidult’s passivity, certain that if they don’t do something parental (at least nag), then other doctor’s appointments (e.g. the ones for that strange mole or that tooth that’s gone awry) just won’t get made.

And what about health insurance?

And the lube job on the car?

And that jury notice?   And tax returns?

Even the most responsible kidult usually doesn’t find this kind of thing nearly important as most parents.

Yes, kids have to learn to act on their own.  And most seem to eventually.  But sometimes kidults, just like older adults, can use a little help.  Concrete help, i.e. not nagging.

The simple act of offering to keep a kidult company while important actions are taken can be very useful.  (Often the offer alone will trigger the kid do the thing themselves just so you don’t keep them company, but sometimes they do appreciate it moral support.)

Offering to help out with pertinent phone calls can also be a way of getting unattractive tasks done.  (Strangely, a lot of modern kidults seem a bit stymied by dealing with bureaucracy over the phone.  Until doctors make appointments by email, this can be a bit of a handicap.)

But it’s important, parent, to always doublecheck how much the kidult really needs your help, and how much of the perceived need is simply the result of you insisting your child do things your way.

You need to be aware too of how much you simply miss your kid in that new adult.

For me, the most effective guard against over-intervention has been my own aging processs, i.e. early senility.  (See e.g. previous posts re Robert Pattinson.)  I’m someone who could easily get caught in oversolicitous parenting.  Fortunately, for my kids, however, I have enough trouble keeping track of my own life these days.

If you have younger kids or even kidults (who like watercolors and elephants), check out my counting book 1 Mississippi at link above or on Amazon.

Elegy

August 12, 2009

Old friend died today.   This poem was written and illustrated for February and also for my grandmother, but my friend’s death put me in mind of it.

All rights reserved.

“Beneath It All”

August 11, 2009

For those of you (especially those who know me) who really don’t get all this Pattinson stuff (and forget that I write teen novels), I’m posting a poem.   This was not an exercise poem, sort of a teen poem, or early teen.

Beneath it all

Beneath the red over blue sky,
she walked a beam, its wood dark
as charcoal;  just below it, gravel.  Still,
she held arms out
to her sides
as if balancing on a narrow ledge, in
a harsh wind,
pretending.  Pretending too
that she was still a little girl, while
also pretending
to be older.  To be younger
and older both
felt cute,
like wearing,with conscious insouciance,
a too-short skirt over legs
that had learned allure.
Sure of the man watching, she also
pretended to slip, then
caught herself, smiling in mock
relief, the feel of control surging through her
like growth itself.
She had much to learn and
would have a hard time at it.

Don’t forget to check out 1 Mississippi!

Beneath it all

Beneath the red over blue sky,

she walked a beam, its wood dark

as charcoal; just below it, gravel. Still,

she held arms out

to her sides

as if balancing on a narrow ledge, in

a harsh wind,

pretending. Pretending too

that she was still a little girl, while

also pretending

to be older. Younger

and older both

felt cute,

like wearing,

with conscious insouciance,

a too-short skirt over legs

that had learned allure.

Sure of the man watching, she also

pretended to slip, then

caught herself, smiling in mock

relief, the feel of control surging through her

like growth itself.

She had much to learn and

would have a hard time at it.