Archive for July 2011
Hot (with elephants)
July 12, 2011
Standing Up For Commuting
July 11, 2011
Blocking Writer’s Block With Derek Jeter
July 10, 2011
Yes, I know. It doesn't really look like him.
Followers of this blog know that I am in the final stages of finishing a manuscript for a novel. (I really am almost there now.)
It is difficult. I am a pretty fast writer, but a terribly slow re-writer. It takes me drafts and drafts and drafts, with additions, deletions, re-additions, re=deletions, corrections and missed corrections, and corrections of the corrections. While revising and copy-editing can sometimes have an engaging aspect, they can also be soul-wrenching.
I don’t want to sound too whiney, but it can be hard not to be overwhelmed by the question: “is it worth it?” “It” being the manuscript, even the whole endeavor of writing. And then there are all the related inquiries; most of which begin with “why,” many of which include “bother.”
The answer, I guess, is that you just have to do the things that make you you, even when they are difficult. Translation: if you are a writer, or even if you just want to be a writer, you have to write. And if you want any kind of an audience, and have any kind of pride, you have to re-write. (And re-write again.)
Even so, as you get towards an end of a project, it is hard not to grow increasingly self-critical, a mind-state that can be paralyzing.
This weekend, I’ve looked for inspiration in one of my all-time heroes–Derek Jeter!
I call Derek a hero with some trepidation–maybe Jeter is not as nice as his public persona. But no one can fault his determination, focus and drive. His at-bat on his 3000th hit was a great example. The count was 3-2. Then he kept hitting fouls, one after another until he got a pitch he could slam. As he said afterwards, he was not trying for a home run, he was just trying to hit the ball. Hard.
Of course, one could argue that baseball is kind of a silly game; even if you like it, a game. All this effort–all this focus–all this attention–all this money–for what?
I, for one, right now, just choose to admire. And to make myself get back to my own work with some of that determination, focus, élan.
Bird-brained While Blogging
July 9, 2011
Some people think of bloggers as couch potato types, making pronouncements (or little elephant drawings), while hiding out from from the physical (i.e. non-computer-lit) world.
Not so. The prime example I can give of the active, physical-world-exploring, blogger is my daughter, Meredith Martin, a forest science student, who is currently posting a really fascinating blog about her field work in the Peruvian Amazon, http://countingcamu.blogspot.com.
Okay, so Meredith has written of the difficulties of hammocks on vibrating river boats and poorly permathrined trousers in beautiful but mosquito-crammed dusks, but recently I had my own encounter with blogging peril.
It happened last night, shortly after I arrived in the countryside of Upstate New York. Since I was staying in a house without internet access, I determined to hike (about a mile and a half) to the yard of someone with a good router. I was warned of rain, so carried a large ziplock bag for my iPad, The fact that it was rapidly growing dark was also brought to my attention, and that there was a car I could use. But my legs (ahem!) were really tired of sitting.
I walked fast, rolling along in the weird MBT shoes that I am pretty sure are causing severe knee problems. My knees were fine in that moment though and the occasional drops of moisture in the air seemed to have blown rather than dropped my way.
Sure, it was pretty dark under the canopy of trees on the long driveway I had to walk up, but I could see the yard with internet access in the near distance, and it looked lighter there.
Then, boom, something soft but big hit me quite hard in the side of the head, and then brrrmmm, ruffled on.
I have to admit the hit came as a shock. A bird flew into my head? Then the word “bat” came to mind. And “rabies”. And with rabies the image of dozens of shots in my bare (jiggling with fear) belly.
Maybe walking up here in the near dark had not been such a good idea after all.
But, if you are determined blogger, what do you do?
The only course, of course, was to proceed to the online access. (I’m sorry if whatever I typed in last night didn’t make much sense. All the time I was troubled by a throb both on the surface of my head–where I’d been hit–and on the inside: was it a bat?)
My brain filled with sad commentary from my prospective funeral–if only she’d gotten the shots; if only she’d taken the car; if only she hadn’t posted her silly blog that night.
I walked back onto the long dark drive, vest draped over head. I held my arms over my head too, clapping lightly. Noise of some kind seemed called for–I thought of turning iTunes on, but my habitual favorite “Anything Goes” didn’t quite go with all this.
As I walked by the spot of the dive-bombing, I heard a heavy brrrum of wings to my side.
After the instantaneous clutch, my heart lightened. So, bird then, definitely bird, must be a bird; bats don’t brrrmmmm.
A turkey, my husband said later. (And he wasn’t talking about me.)
Amazing Sight Between The Train Cars
July 8, 2011
Seen on a rainy ride. Somehow pink.
A Good Day For The Park
July 7, 2011
Why Did The Eft Cross the Road (err… Driveway)?
July 6, 2011
After the big rain in the country Sunday, I saw an eft crossing the road.
I love efts–their orange, their curves, their teeny angled legs.
I squatted down next to it, taking picture after picture, not questioning, in my delight, why the little salamander was being so cooperative.
Then, not wanting to leave it in harm’s way (and loving to hold efts), I picked it up with gentled fingers.
Its little body was limp and stiff at once; not even its tail curled.
My delight changed instantly to revulsion. Well, sadness first. I feel like I’ve been finding lots of dead animals lately–first butterflies, now efts–not to mention the stilled humming bird on the floor of a glassed-in porch, the mole near the tractor tracks.
Then came the revulsion. There is something in us that wants to keep a certain distance from death.
I put the eft down, wiped my hand on a pant’s leg, trudged heavily on.
But how could I leave the poor thing on the road? (I argued with myself that it was really a driveway.)
Still, I went back, tearing a few pages out of a handy composition book to slide under the little orange corpse, when, hurrah!, the thing started crawling across my lined paper, its tail modulating in script.
Had it been waiting for a blank page? Something non-digital?
Who knows? I got it safely to the side of the drive. Took video this time–since it moved.
After A Long Summer Weekend (With Elephants)
July 5, 2011
Back to the circus….
Happy Fourth
July 4, 2011
ManicDDaily 
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