When we were at Sandbanks this summer, we rotated campsites for dinner. The night it was at our campsite, I offered to walk Collette next door to her campsite with a flashlight at the end of the night since she didn't have one. We went to the comfort station together, then we got to my campsite and she said "I'll be fine getting to mine". So I turned away with the flashlight, she walked three or four steps and said "HOLY CRAP, get back over here, it's WAY too dark." I thought this was hilarious.
Back at the beginning of November when I was starting NaBloPoMo, and trying to wean off my antidepressant, I felt sort of the same way - like I'd set off without a light and I'd completely forgotten how dark the dark was.
So this is a most fervent and heartfelt thanks to everyone who stopped by this month and walked with me for a bit. Nicole and Hannah, the best computer friends a girl could ask for; Mary Lynn and Julie - World Trivia Night is not quite as awesome without you; Clara, who once sent me a springtime card that was exactly like a ray of sunshine in paper form; Sarah, who decided to stick with quality over quantity AND I'M FINE WITH THAT; Brandy who I met at Blissdom; Laureen who is indeed very kind; Courtney, my book blogger bestie; Shan, who always makes me smile; Jodi, the first person I met through NaBloPoMo who I'm certain that I will keep; Jenny who lives a life I can't even imagine, but I'm enjoying the experience of trying; Pam, who is so nice to me even though I'm often a whiny drag; Collette, without whom my life would be so much less filled with laughter (often inappropriate) and hang-overs; Steph, who I think may have commented every freaking day again, meaning I owe a Starbucks card and a serious catch-up with her blog; Amy who is so buried in obligations right now I can't believe she found time to read a single post; Maggie, who fairly often knows the exact right thing that I need to hear; Lynn, the very first blog friend I met in real life; Alex, who made my first dinner at Blissdom this year SO MUCH FUN; Shoshana, who I'm going to call next time I get lost looking for the mall; Magpie - funny, acerbic and wise, and the only one I can send a picture of a sinking building to who really gets it; The Queen, who makes me laugh at things that should not be funny; Swistle, whose luckiness/suckiness tagline I have stolen shamelessly; Laurel, my favourite stalker with whom I will now go to empty movie theatres in the middle of the day; Sasha, who I need to get my ass over to visit while she's convalescing; Alison, who I need to get my ass over to have a drink with WHY IS IT SO HARD TO SEE PEOPLE MORE THAN ONCE EVERY SIX MONTHS?; Alexandra who comments on my blog every now and then, probably because she knows it gives me a little fangirl freak-out fun; another Jenny, sister in self-loathing and hating decision-making; Di, Eve's Crazy Greek Way-More-Fun Other Mother; Helen - miss you!; and Sarah and Zarah - because I always know they're reading.
Thank-you to all of you for being my flashlight this month.
Showing posts with label being all meta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being all meta. Show all posts
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Voice Lessons
Today's prompt on the BlogHer NaBloPoMo site is: "Do you feel you have found your voice on your blog? What techniques have you tried to develop your voice in your writing? What are some characteristics of your personality in your writing?"
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"Voice shape" by Jacob Whittaker |
I wrote two short stories in six years that I thought were not terrible. I sent one to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. I got a very nice rejection letter from the editor that said the prose style was interesting but he just couldn't get into the subject matter, which should have been encouraging, but I was stuck for more subject matter. I didn't know WHAT I wanted to write about. Also, the story made everybody who read it, including my husband, think that I didn't want children, which was a bit of a concern for him since we were trying to get pregnant at the time. I said "fuck OFF, not every character is me!" I proceeded to have a kid or two and not endeavour to get them kidnapped or killed, so I think by now he's probably convinced.
I kept trying to write short stories, but it didn't work. I couldn't work up a character, and if I did I couldn't get them from the kitchen to the laundry room without everything being painfully awkward - it was like my writing took them all out at the knees - "I want to be a good protagonist but these tortured similes won't let me move forward!"
I became aware of blogging at some point, and I thought it was ridiculous. Who would be colossally arrogant enough to put their diary on the internet, and if they did, who would possibly care to read it? I believe I said the words "I will never have a blog" on more than one occasion. On the other hand, I was more and more aware that all my friends would say they loved getting emails from me because they were so smart and funny and entertaining, and when I asked them to read my short stories they would read them and say "hey, your last email was so smart and funny and entertaining, and here, I made you some cookies."
So then I thought, hmm, if I started a blog, it would kind of be like writing emails to the world. And since I couldn't possibly be any less successful as a writer than I already was, I gleefully tossed my principles to the wind and googled "how to start a blog". Whenever I read my short stories over, I'm in an agony of cringing mortification. When I reread my blog posts, I'm generally thinking "goddamn, I really am quite amusing." I haven't written the Great Canadian Anything. My readership is small (but kickass). Sometimes I've done nothing but given myself and one other person a quick laugh for the day. It feels like a kind of success.
Answer to the second question: Uh, none really. I signed up for daily writing prompts from Sarah Selecky. They come to my inbox every day and I dutifully open them up and look at them and stick them in a folder. I think of NaBloPoMo as kind of a good technique to encourage my voice, in the same way that drinking half a bottle of vodka is a good technique to encourage my head into the toilet; sometimes you just have to force yourself to do it.
Answer to the third question: Overuse of dashes, undue reliance on the word 'totally' and a lot of swearing - I like to throw in a little unanticipated repetition, e.g. 'jesus jesus fuck' or "son of a bitching bitching bitch", or maybe mix it up a little with an unusual combination like 'rabbit-humping whore-douche' or 'jack-bitching anus-hat'.
Sorry. I felt like things were getting a little earnest there.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
In which I will not talk about The Shining the way I thought I was going to
Last year when I was about to embark on my -- hang on a second -- FOURTH NaBloPoMo (I was about to say 'third or fourth' and then I remembered that a couple of weeks ago I asked my friend if her husband's law practice had been open for more than a year and she told me it was FOUR, so I counted), a friend warned me that NaBloPoMo had killed her blog. I always think it kind of resurrects mine - the fact that I'm obligated (however artificially) to post every day removes a lot of the pressure to post only weighty or worthy or thrice-polished material, and it gets me back in the habit of writing, after a fall season where school and activites have started and my resolve is often flagging.
When NaBloPoMo ends, I usually post again the day after or the second day after, and I think "yeah! I've GOT this! I'm going to keep posting every day! Or almost every day!" And then another day or two goes by, and I've got an idea of what my next post will be, but it's not NaBloPoMo any more, so I don't HAVE to post, so I think, I'll wait until I have a little more time to work on it. Because I have to go in to the library today. And then I have to take the van in to the shop. And then Eve and I have to get flu shots.
And then it becomes apparent how quickly I can fall into the habit of very much not posting every day again.
So I won't be presenting a carefully-marshaled discourse on The Shining, or goodness knows when we'll all be meeting here again. I'll just throw some thoughts down and not let the Cement of Endless Deferral harden on here any longer.
I can't remember how old I was the first time I read The Shining, but I think I was too young to understand a lot of the subtleties. I do remember being kind of confused and a little grossed out by the sex stuff - which is really tame and between married consenting adults, so I must have been pretty young. There was a bit about a bisexual movie producer or something and a gay man in a dog suit where the sexual subtext COMPLETELY escaped me last time. A lot of it felt like I was reading it for the first time - it wasn't even like I didn't remember it but then rereading it brought back the echo, it was like new stuff was there.
Like I always think about the best horror, this book isn't about the surface scariness of monsters or ghosts or dark places. It's about the kind of sadness that comes welded to any kind of love. It's about being afraid, not just that you'll lose the people you love, but that it will somehow be your fault - that you won't have been strong or selfless enough, and that the loss and grief will be deserved.
While I was reading, I kept thinking about how back in elementary school we used to study "themes" in literature, and I saw "MAN vs. NATURE" and "MAN vs. HIMSELF" on a blackboard in big block letters. The struggle within Jack Torrance, against his weaknesses, against alcoholism, against the fear that he'd never live up to his early promise, against the fear that he'd lost his wife and son - is illustrated masterfully.
Woman against herself too, which is another thing I didn't remember from the first reading - Wendy's fear that she'll turn out like her mother and destroy her son, or at the very least her relationship with him.
There's a dreadful inevitability about it all too, which is a huge part of the claustrophobic atmosphere. They all sort of "know" that if they stay something terrible will happen, but it's something completely inexplicable and undemonstrable, and the consequences of leaving are so tangible and horrible, that they CAN'T leave until the terrible thing actually happens, so they stay and HOPE it won't actually happen, although they KNOW... endless loop.
I remembered again how much I adored Dick Hallorann, the cook at The Overlook who pegs Danny for a Super Mind-Power Ninja instantly and moves heaven and earth to help him when things go south. It reminded me of King's gift for sketching a character you can love as much as someone in your own family in the space of a page or two. Hallorann's character is one of the principal reasons for my loathing of the movie.
The device of the topiary animals that went into attack mode at certain times didn't really work for me. I wondered if King was just trying not to confine all of the action to the hotel. It seemed kind of silly, although I might have not been able to envision it properly - it's the kind of thing that would probably be scary in real life, but in writing it was just Hedge Animals Gone Bad, and it didn't work for me.
That's all I can think of at the moment. Steph has taught this book - I wish she'd teach it to me. I feel like I could benefit from a lecture or two on it.
I still have to watch the movie again. I did read an article that said Stephen King didn't like Shelley Duvall's part in the movie either (or any of the movie) - he said she was basically there to "scream and be stupid". I also found this movie on Netflix - "an exploration of various theories of Stanley Kubrick's film The Shining", so clearly I'm going to have to watch that.
On the whole, I think the book was really good. But I don't think it's one of my all-time King favourites. It might be interesting to rank them. Maybe I'll do a post on it.
Probably not tomorrow, though.
When NaBloPoMo ends, I usually post again the day after or the second day after, and I think "yeah! I've GOT this! I'm going to keep posting every day! Or almost every day!" And then another day or two goes by, and I've got an idea of what my next post will be, but it's not NaBloPoMo any more, so I don't HAVE to post, so I think, I'll wait until I have a little more time to work on it. Because I have to go in to the library today. And then I have to take the van in to the shop. And then Eve and I have to get flu shots.
And then it becomes apparent how quickly I can fall into the habit of very much not posting every day again.
So I won't be presenting a carefully-marshaled discourse on The Shining, or goodness knows when we'll all be meeting here again. I'll just throw some thoughts down and not let the Cement of Endless Deferral harden on here any longer.I can't remember how old I was the first time I read The Shining, but I think I was too young to understand a lot of the subtleties. I do remember being kind of confused and a little grossed out by the sex stuff - which is really tame and between married consenting adults, so I must have been pretty young. There was a bit about a bisexual movie producer or something and a gay man in a dog suit where the sexual subtext COMPLETELY escaped me last time. A lot of it felt like I was reading it for the first time - it wasn't even like I didn't remember it but then rereading it brought back the echo, it was like new stuff was there.
Like I always think about the best horror, this book isn't about the surface scariness of monsters or ghosts or dark places. It's about the kind of sadness that comes welded to any kind of love. It's about being afraid, not just that you'll lose the people you love, but that it will somehow be your fault - that you won't have been strong or selfless enough, and that the loss and grief will be deserved.
While I was reading, I kept thinking about how back in elementary school we used to study "themes" in literature, and I saw "MAN vs. NATURE" and "MAN vs. HIMSELF" on a blackboard in big block letters. The struggle within Jack Torrance, against his weaknesses, against alcoholism, against the fear that he'd never live up to his early promise, against the fear that he'd lost his wife and son - is illustrated masterfully.
Woman against herself too, which is another thing I didn't remember from the first reading - Wendy's fear that she'll turn out like her mother and destroy her son, or at the very least her relationship with him.
There's a dreadful inevitability about it all too, which is a huge part of the claustrophobic atmosphere. They all sort of "know" that if they stay something terrible will happen, but it's something completely inexplicable and undemonstrable, and the consequences of leaving are so tangible and horrible, that they CAN'T leave until the terrible thing actually happens, so they stay and HOPE it won't actually happen, although they KNOW... endless loop.
I remembered again how much I adored Dick Hallorann, the cook at The Overlook who pegs Danny for a Super Mind-Power Ninja instantly and moves heaven and earth to help him when things go south. It reminded me of King's gift for sketching a character you can love as much as someone in your own family in the space of a page or two. Hallorann's character is one of the principal reasons for my loathing of the movie.
The device of the topiary animals that went into attack mode at certain times didn't really work for me. I wondered if King was just trying not to confine all of the action to the hotel. It seemed kind of silly, although I might have not been able to envision it properly - it's the kind of thing that would probably be scary in real life, but in writing it was just Hedge Animals Gone Bad, and it didn't work for me.
That's all I can think of at the moment. Steph has taught this book - I wish she'd teach it to me. I feel like I could benefit from a lecture or two on it.
I still have to watch the movie again. I did read an article that said Stephen King didn't like Shelley Duvall's part in the movie either (or any of the movie) - he said she was basically there to "scream and be stupid". I also found this movie on Netflix - "an exploration of various theories of Stanley Kubrick's film The Shining", so clearly I'm going to have to watch that.On the whole, I think the book was really good. But I don't think it's one of my all-time King favourites. It might be interesting to rank them. Maybe I'll do a post on it.
Probably not tomorrow, though.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Surly Tuesdays on the Margins or Something
I wrote that post title last night and then stared at it for a while and then went away and whined on Twitter about being brain-dead and spinning my wheels and feeling creatively bereft, and some lovely people commiserated and offered words of wisdom and comfort. So I took a deep breath, did some loin-girding and.... decided screw it, and went out for a beer. But I came back today.
While I was staring at my post title yesterday, and then procrastinating by looking at Facebook and checking if my assignment grade had been posted yet and uploading pictures to print and then emailing Kim when I saw a picture of her at my house last Christmas and remembered I hadn't answered her last email, Eve was across the table with paint, construction paper, toothpicks and pumpkins. She had been home sick with a cold for the day, and after I got groceries I came home and asked if she felt well enough to go get pumpkins. She said yes, so we went to the pumpkin patch and she picked two big ones and three little ones.
She then spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in my big chair making sketches of how she was going to embellish them. So while I was dealing with an utter lack of inspiration, and feeling that sinking, panicky feeling which is kind of dumb and yet kind of understandable, because it's not like this is my JOB, it's not like I get PAID to do it, it's not like anyone calls me on the carpet if I don't do it the day I meant to do it, it's not like it's really discernible that anyone even CARES whether or not I do it more than a pathetic once-a-week or so, but then since I don't HAVE a job I do sort of consider it an important thing that I make myself keep to some sort of structure and accountability, and if I start letting it slide it's usually indicative of larger problems in my life (insert deep breath)..... while all that was going on, THIS is what was coming from across the table:
"The littlest one is going to be the ultra-cute little mouse pumpkin. Well, a were-mouse. I don't care what you say, I think it will still be cute even if it has veiny eyeballs."
"The biggest is going to be non-cute. It's going to be a dragumpkin. A mix between a dragon and a pumpkin."
"What should I do with the middle one? A bat? Good idea. I'll make wings and tape toothpicks to them and stick them in. Oh, and then put dark glasses on it. It'll be a rapper bat. Oops, I stuck the toothpick in the wrong place. Ooh, now it's leaking. It's like....a SHAVING accident! *puts red paint and a small piece of kleenex on it* It's an adolescent rapper bat! Hey, look, the stem looks like a witch's hat! It's an adolescent rapper bat WITCH pumpkin! Ah, I don't feel like putting glasses on it."
"I need another toothpick. Too bad I don't have an assistant. Then I could hold out my hand and say 'toothpick!' and she would hand me one. And then she'd say 'you're so creative! and smart! and pretty! No, I'm sure I don't have a fever."
"I can't believe I painted my costume shirt AND did all of these and I haven't made a mistake and had a big freak-out yet. Can you believe that?"
"Where's my paintbrush?WHERE'S MY PAINTBRUSH? Assistant! *I point to the paintbrush in the cup of water and ask 'that paintbrush'?* "Yes, THAT paintbrush. My assistant would have known where that was."
"I'm so glad I made them little costumes. Lots of people paint them but I'm tired of painting them. I love the little costumes."
Amanda said on Twitter yesterday that maybe she and I were just balancing out our usual awesomeness with a fallow period so somebody else could use the awesome for a while. It's pretty clear who was sucking up the creativity in THIS house last night.
While I was staring at my post title yesterday, and then procrastinating by looking at Facebook and checking if my assignment grade had been posted yet and uploading pictures to print and then emailing Kim when I saw a picture of her at my house last Christmas and remembered I hadn't answered her last email, Eve was across the table with paint, construction paper, toothpicks and pumpkins. She had been home sick with a cold for the day, and after I got groceries I came home and asked if she felt well enough to go get pumpkins. She said yes, so we went to the pumpkin patch and she picked two big ones and three little ones.
She then spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in my big chair making sketches of how she was going to embellish them. So while I was dealing with an utter lack of inspiration, and feeling that sinking, panicky feeling which is kind of dumb and yet kind of understandable, because it's not like this is my JOB, it's not like I get PAID to do it, it's not like anyone calls me on the carpet if I don't do it the day I meant to do it, it's not like it's really discernible that anyone even CARES whether or not I do it more than a pathetic once-a-week or so, but then since I don't HAVE a job I do sort of consider it an important thing that I make myself keep to some sort of structure and accountability, and if I start letting it slide it's usually indicative of larger problems in my life (insert deep breath)..... while all that was going on, THIS is what was coming from across the table:
"The littlest one is going to be the ultra-cute little mouse pumpkin. Well, a were-mouse. I don't care what you say, I think it will still be cute even if it has veiny eyeballs."
"The biggest is going to be non-cute. It's going to be a dragumpkin. A mix between a dragon and a pumpkin."
"What should I do with the middle one? A bat? Good idea. I'll make wings and tape toothpicks to them and stick them in. Oh, and then put dark glasses on it. It'll be a rapper bat. Oops, I stuck the toothpick in the wrong place. Ooh, now it's leaking. It's like....a SHAVING accident! *puts red paint and a small piece of kleenex on it* It's an adolescent rapper bat! Hey, look, the stem looks like a witch's hat! It's an adolescent rapper bat WITCH pumpkin! Ah, I don't feel like putting glasses on it."
"I need another toothpick. Too bad I don't have an assistant. Then I could hold out my hand and say 'toothpick!' and she would hand me one. And then she'd say 'you're so creative! and smart! and pretty! No, I'm sure I don't have a fever."
"I can't believe I painted my costume shirt AND did all of these and I haven't made a mistake and had a big freak-out yet. Can you believe that?"
"Where's my paintbrush?WHERE'S MY PAINTBRUSH? Assistant! *I point to the paintbrush in the cup of water and ask 'that paintbrush'?* "Yes, THAT paintbrush. My assistant would have known where that was."
"I'm so glad I made them little costumes. Lots of people paint them but I'm tired of painting them. I love the little costumes."
**************************************************
Amanda said on Twitter yesterday that maybe she and I were just balancing out our usual awesomeness with a fallow period so somebody else could use the awesome for a while. It's pretty clear who was sucking up the creativity in THIS house last night.
Maybe she'll let me use it when she's done.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Scintilla Day 3: Finding my voice
Scintilla Day 3:
B: Talk about a time when you were driving and you sang in the car, all alone. Why do you remember this song and that stretch of road?
I'm finding it difficult to get any real traction on the prompts this year. Last year I had to reach but it still felt within my grasp; this year I'm just starting to emerge from weeks of leaden, joyless trudging, and I'm wondering if maybe I'm just not up to this right now. I'm torn between not wanting to submit what feels like mediocre splattering and wondering if just making the effort will help me move out of the Slough of Despond.
I don't think I drive anywhere alone without singing. Once a year I drive four or five hours to Barrie to visit my best friend, and I think I usually choose the music for the drive before I decide what clothes to bring. Angus and I used to measure how long it took to drive to somebody's house by how many times we could sing the Spiderman theme song before we got there. Eve sings in three languages. I don't have nearly the upper register that I used to - asthma medication, hormones, lack of practice, whatever - but in the car I still reach for all the high notes with a complete lack of self-consciousness, and sometimes I get there and sometimes I crack and squeak horribly and then kill myself laughing. There's no way I could pick one song and one stretch of road.
So I'm going metaphorical.
I was told from the age of seven or so that I had writing ability way above my grade level. I was always praised extravagantly for my essays, short stories and any other assignment where I could string words together (long division and completing the square were another matter entirely). I sailed through a few years taking it for granted that I would have some kind of career featuring writing.
Then I started really thinking about what that meant. I considered journalism, until I realized that my crippling fear of questioning, talking to or in any way interacting with people I didn't know would probably be a bit of a hindrance. I went to university, got undergraduate and graduate degrees in Comparative Literature and then realized that, although I was pretty good at it, I didn't really love academic writing. Engaging in exhaustive, analytical, recursive discussion of brilliant literature by other people was engaging and amusing up to a certain point, but I didn't think I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing it and teaching other people to do it.
I left school. I got married. I went to work for an audio publisher, thinking I would start writing fiction in my spare time.
I wrote some fiction. The fiction sucked real bad.
I tried a variety of attack points. I wrote literary short stories based on pivotal moments in a character's life. I wrote science fiction short stories. I started collaborating with a friend on a mystery novel with a strong romantic sub-plot. It was all bad. I couldn't find my voice. I knew the way my favourite books spoke to me, and I knew without a doubt that nothing I wrote was going to speak to anyone in that way. It wasn't going to say anything, in fact, except "hello, I am some really grotesquely bad fiction written by a complete waste of a human being who hates her job and still watches Beverly Hills 90210 even though she's well above the appropriate demographic".
I took some time off to be horribly depressed. I worked in a couple of bookstores, which was twenty percent good and eighty percent wretched, on account of a large proportion of humanity being absolute wanking assholes. I quit working and had a couple of kids. Someone said once again to me that I was a really great writer.
B: Talk about a time when you were driving and you sang in the car, all alone. Why do you remember this song and that stretch of road?
I'm finding it difficult to get any real traction on the prompts this year. Last year I had to reach but it still felt within my grasp; this year I'm just starting to emerge from weeks of leaden, joyless trudging, and I'm wondering if maybe I'm just not up to this right now. I'm torn between not wanting to submit what feels like mediocre splattering and wondering if just making the effort will help me move out of the Slough of Despond.
I don't think I drive anywhere alone without singing. Once a year I drive four or five hours to Barrie to visit my best friend, and I think I usually choose the music for the drive before I decide what clothes to bring. Angus and I used to measure how long it took to drive to somebody's house by how many times we could sing the Spiderman theme song before we got there. Eve sings in three languages. I don't have nearly the upper register that I used to - asthma medication, hormones, lack of practice, whatever - but in the car I still reach for all the high notes with a complete lack of self-consciousness, and sometimes I get there and sometimes I crack and squeak horribly and then kill myself laughing. There's no way I could pick one song and one stretch of road.
So I'm going metaphorical.
I was told from the age of seven or so that I had writing ability way above my grade level. I was always praised extravagantly for my essays, short stories and any other assignment where I could string words together (long division and completing the square were another matter entirely). I sailed through a few years taking it for granted that I would have some kind of career featuring writing.
Then I started really thinking about what that meant. I considered journalism, until I realized that my crippling fear of questioning, talking to or in any way interacting with people I didn't know would probably be a bit of a hindrance. I went to university, got undergraduate and graduate degrees in Comparative Literature and then realized that, although I was pretty good at it, I didn't really love academic writing. Engaging in exhaustive, analytical, recursive discussion of brilliant literature by other people was engaging and amusing up to a certain point, but I didn't think I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing it and teaching other people to do it.
I left school. I got married. I went to work for an audio publisher, thinking I would start writing fiction in my spare time.
I wrote some fiction. The fiction sucked real bad.
I tried a variety of attack points. I wrote literary short stories based on pivotal moments in a character's life. I wrote science fiction short stories. I started collaborating with a friend on a mystery novel with a strong romantic sub-plot. It was all bad. I couldn't find my voice. I knew the way my favourite books spoke to me, and I knew without a doubt that nothing I wrote was going to speak to anyone in that way. It wasn't going to say anything, in fact, except "hello, I am some really grotesquely bad fiction written by a complete waste of a human being who hates her job and still watches Beverly Hills 90210 even though she's well above the appropriate demographic".
I took some time off to be horribly depressed. I worked in a couple of bookstores, which was twenty percent good and eighty percent wretched, on account of a large proportion of humanity being absolute wanking assholes. I quit working and had a couple of kids. Someone said once again to me that I was a really great writer.
I said "but I never write anything."
And I didn't. I gave up. I read somewhere that if you hadn't been published by the time you were thirty that it was really all over. I felt, in a lot of ways, that I had already wasted whatever early promise I had, that I had missed some crucial turning and lost all my chances.
I heard about blogging. I rolled my eyes and mocked and wondered why anyone would think the world desired access to their thoughts, and declared that I would never, ever blog.
I started blogging. And within a very short period of time, I felt like I was singing the most soaring of arias after years of laryngitis. Trying to give a thoughtful or entertaining shape to my thoughts was vastly different from just.... trying to make things up. When I was trying to write fiction, every single sentence seemed limping, crooked, pitiful. When I was blogging, words flew faster than I could type them. I had a place to put all those thoughts that hummed or chanted or raged in my head, and see what I could do with them. Reading my own words over MADE ME SMILE.
I often say that one of the most wonderful gifts that blogging confers is the almost-instantaneous knowledge and comfort and reassurance that, no matter what your burden, you are most assuredly not alone. But the other thing, for me, is that it gave me my voice. Some people seem to look on their blogging as a kind of consolation prize or second-best endeavour that either salves their regret for not having fiction published or keeps them from writing more fiction. And I get that, because some people are meant to write fiction, and many of them probably deserve to be published, and it's hard to get published, and maybe blogging IS sort of second-best. For me? It feels a lot like I finally found the song that I was meant to sing, the song that gives me the greatest joy and peace, and blogging is my long, straight stretch of road.
Monday, January 7, 2013
New year, new....nope, same old me
For something fresh and original, I slept too late today and got up feeling vaguely disgusted with myself. I'm not sure what I did with the transcript I ordered so I could apply for my exemptions for my library tech program, I haven't put away all the Christmas decorations and I'm feeling anxious about picking up Eve for piano and buying groceries. That's right - I'm ever so slightly intimidated by A GROCERY STORE.
I've done quite a bit of reading about neuroplasticity over the past couple of years, and I'm a little worried that the years of behaviour generated by the years of sleep apnea have wired my brain in a way that's going to be very, very difficult to rewire even with the CPAP machine. It might not be possible. Or it might involve a lot of.... shudder..... HARD WORK.
Anyway, I'm now going to continue my tradition of stealing Hannah's meme for Year in Review posts, along with the tradition of doing it at least a week into the new year.
1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before? Went to a blogging conference. Went to New York City. (The blogging conference was in New York City). Did an overnight sleep study in order to be formally diagnosed with sleep apnea and started using a CPAP machine.
2. Did you keep your New Year's Resolutions and will you make more for next year? No, I don't make resolutions at new year's. I feel like it's setting myself up for failure. Not that I need resolutions to set myself up for failure. I fail a lot. I'm awesome at failing. Maybe I should resolve to fail at stuff. Okay, sorry; the only thing I'm resolving to do this year is the same thing I try to do every year (it's SO HARD not to type 'TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD here) - keep challenging myself, keep doing stuff I find frightening (like answering the phone even when the display says 'number blocked'), keep trying to learn and grow and not suck as a wife and mother and person.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Hannah, if you count online friends (which I do). My friend Susanne had her baby last November (December?) so I did get a few baby visits in, though. My friend Cynthia is pregnant, so yay for more baby visits and boo for the useless third-baby yearning it always sets off.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No. But thanks for reminding me that I'm due.
5. What countries did you visit? St. Lucia and the U.S.
6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012? Patience. Focus. Abs.
7. What date(s) from 2012 will remain etched in your memory, and why? None, because I don't remember dates. Moments? The time in March Break when Eve swam the full length of the big pool at the community centre which meant she was allowed to be in the pool without me; the baseball game in the Provincials championship that Angus's team played where they were so clearly going to lose and then they won in the most Disney-movie-like fashion imaginable; an awesome night of drunken revelry in Montreal with high school friends.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I dunno. I finished three more courses towards my library tech diploma and went to a huge blogging conference in a big city all by myself and didn't chicken out or end up whimpering in a McDonald's bathroom?
9. What was your biggest failure? I'm going to go ahead and borrow Hannah's 'umbrage at the word failure' as well as her entire meme (got any sugar, Hannah, in case I want to bake later?), but I would like to do better at not eating crap and keeping a budget this year.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury this year? Nothing too bad, other than finding out that I hadn't had a really good night's sleep for most of my life, and the grievous wound to my pride that happened here.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Our January vacation, if that counts as a bought thing. My awesome dress. Two really pretty bras.
12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? My kids'. They are really good kids. I forget to give them chores because I'm forgetful and disorganized and they do chores anyway. If I ever fall asleep while reading or watching tv with Eve, she covers me with a blanket or her sweater and kisses me on the cheek.
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? The NRA, the Westboro Baptist Church, most of the people who comment on online news articles (why do I ever read the comments? why?), and occasionally my own (ask my husband. I can be a real bitch).
14. Where did most of your money go? Household maintenance. The air conditioner packed up this year, we needed a new fridge and washer and dryer (oh, I forgot my new fridge and washer and dryer for best things I bought, I LOVE LOVE LOVE them. Sometimes I make out with the fridge when no one's around.)
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? HELLOOOOO, new fridge? Double doors? Extra deep door shelves so I can find the taco sauce in under ten seconds EVERY TIME? Automatic ice maker? Big gorgeous vegetable drawers? Oh god, I need to get out more, don't I?
16. What songs will always remind you of 2012? None, because I can never remember when any song came out. Seriously. Ask my sister, who knows what year every song, movie, Olympic event and car commercial happened in.
17. Compared to this time last year you are.... My immediate impulse is to say 'depressingly the same', but I know that's just how I feel right now. I'm closer to getting my diploma and being employable for the first time in.... whatever, let's not count, it will just make me sad. I'm closer to knowing what it feels like to have enough sleep, I am, I am, I totally am, me and my brain will FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT. I've made a few new friends and not lost any that I know of.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Playing the piano. Writing. Exercising. Playing with my kids AND cleaning the house, because I know they say you'll regret not doing the first more than the second but let's face it, the second thing has to happen at SOME point.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Being anxious.
20. How will you be spending Christmas? Seriously? People do these before Christmas? I spent Christmas with family and friends. I did Christmas Eve dinner and my mother made Christmas dinner and brought it over here so the kids would be at home with all their Christmas presents, making me realize that 1) my mother fucking rocks it and 2) I need to grow up and cook the goddamned turkey one of these years. My sister and her family came after Christmas and we hung out for a few days. We had friends over for New Year's. It was all fairly relaxed and very convivial.
21. Did you fall in love in 2012? Did I mention my new fridge? I only put the prettiest magnets on it. We have something very special.
22. How many one night stands? Ew. Get bent, you sleazy meme.
23. What was your favourite TV program? Homeland, Dr. Who, Community. I had heard people talk about Community and I knew it was one of those shows I 'should' be watching, but never got into it. Then I watched a few with Zarah in the fall, and they were awesome, but then I forgot about it again. Then I started marathoning them while wrapping Christmas gifts and then watched a bunch more on my new iPad while curled up in bed with bronchitis. I can't adequately describe how much I love it. It reminds me of two of my favourite past shows - Picket Fences and Northern Exposure - in that it admits the possibility of weirdness in everyday life. I only have four episodes left. Wah.
24. Do you hate anyone you didn't hate this time last year? Probably, but in this case it's kind of nice to have such a crappy memory.
25. What was the best book you read? I'll save this for my 2012 book review post.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? I don't really make musical discoveries. I wait for other people to make them, and then I decide whether to jump on the bandwagon or pretend I'm too sophisticated for the bandwagon.
27. What did you want and get? Passing marks on my courses - even the really, really hard one. Books. Fridges. Hugs and kisses. Alexis Hinde's empanada recipe.
28. What was your favourite film of this year? Uh, crappy memory problems again. Was Hugo this year? Was 50/50 this year? I loved those. I don't have terribly sophisticated taste in movies, though. I liked The Avengers too. And Les Mis, but more on that in a post where I tell David Denby to suck it. Oh! Oh! The Cabin in the Woods! Horror movie (which I love) through the filter of Joss Whedon (who I adore) - SO SO GOOD. Okay, actually it says it's a 2011 film, whatever.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? My girlfriends took me out for dinner and to see Bridesmaids. I was 42.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If the CPAP machine had been more miraculously comprehensive and immediate in its effects, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012? Leather studded corset and stiletto heels, of course.
32. What kept you sane? Blogging. Twitter. Online friendships. Pam.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I really tried not to steal Hannah's on this one, but I really can't improve on perfection. Plus, he was in The Cabin in the Woods.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? Women's reproductive rights (in the States and here) and the struggle between the government and the teachers' union in Ontario. Oy.
35. Who did you miss? My sister. Zarah. My brothers-in-law and their families. Everyone who lives too damned far away. When I see them it's both wonderful and bittersweet because it reminds me how awesome it would be if we could see each other regularly.
36. Who was the best new person you met? Kim.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012. Uh. That most valuable life lessons take a lifetime to be learned? And have to be learned over and over again? So this question is a tiny bit silly? Or else I just can't think of one, so shut up?
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. When your whole life is on the tip of your tongue/ Empty phrases for the no-longer-young/ The apathy of time laughs in your face/ Did you hear me say/ Each life has its place.
I've done quite a bit of reading about neuroplasticity over the past couple of years, and I'm a little worried that the years of behaviour generated by the years of sleep apnea have wired my brain in a way that's going to be very, very difficult to rewire even with the CPAP machine. It might not be possible. Or it might involve a lot of.... shudder..... HARD WORK.
Anyway, I'm now going to continue my tradition of stealing Hannah's meme for Year in Review posts, along with the tradition of doing it at least a week into the new year.
1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before? Went to a blogging conference. Went to New York City. (The blogging conference was in New York City). Did an overnight sleep study in order to be formally diagnosed with sleep apnea and started using a CPAP machine.
2. Did you keep your New Year's Resolutions and will you make more for next year? No, I don't make resolutions at new year's. I feel like it's setting myself up for failure. Not that I need resolutions to set myself up for failure. I fail a lot. I'm awesome at failing. Maybe I should resolve to fail at stuff. Okay, sorry; the only thing I'm resolving to do this year is the same thing I try to do every year (it's SO HARD not to type 'TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD here) - keep challenging myself, keep doing stuff I find frightening (like answering the phone even when the display says 'number blocked'), keep trying to learn and grow and not suck as a wife and mother and person.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Hannah, if you count online friends (which I do). My friend Susanne had her baby last November (December?) so I did get a few baby visits in, though. My friend Cynthia is pregnant, so yay for more baby visits and boo for the useless third-baby yearning it always sets off.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No. But thanks for reminding me that I'm due.
5. What countries did you visit? St. Lucia and the U.S.
6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012? Patience. Focus. Abs.
7. What date(s) from 2012 will remain etched in your memory, and why? None, because I don't remember dates. Moments? The time in March Break when Eve swam the full length of the big pool at the community centre which meant she was allowed to be in the pool without me; the baseball game in the Provincials championship that Angus's team played where they were so clearly going to lose and then they won in the most Disney-movie-like fashion imaginable; an awesome night of drunken revelry in Montreal with high school friends.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I dunno. I finished three more courses towards my library tech diploma and went to a huge blogging conference in a big city all by myself and didn't chicken out or end up whimpering in a McDonald's bathroom?
9. What was your biggest failure? I'm going to go ahead and borrow Hannah's 'umbrage at the word failure' as well as her entire meme (got any sugar, Hannah, in case I want to bake later?), but I would like to do better at not eating crap and keeping a budget this year.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury this year? Nothing too bad, other than finding out that I hadn't had a really good night's sleep for most of my life, and the grievous wound to my pride that happened here.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Our January vacation, if that counts as a bought thing. My awesome dress. Two really pretty bras.
12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? My kids'. They are really good kids. I forget to give them chores because I'm forgetful and disorganized and they do chores anyway. If I ever fall asleep while reading or watching tv with Eve, she covers me with a blanket or her sweater and kisses me on the cheek.
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? The NRA, the Westboro Baptist Church, most of the people who comment on online news articles (why do I ever read the comments? why?), and occasionally my own (ask my husband. I can be a real bitch).
14. Where did most of your money go? Household maintenance. The air conditioner packed up this year, we needed a new fridge and washer and dryer (oh, I forgot my new fridge and washer and dryer for best things I bought, I LOVE LOVE LOVE them. Sometimes I make out with the fridge when no one's around.)
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? HELLOOOOO, new fridge? Double doors? Extra deep door shelves so I can find the taco sauce in under ten seconds EVERY TIME? Automatic ice maker? Big gorgeous vegetable drawers? Oh god, I need to get out more, don't I?
16. What songs will always remind you of 2012? None, because I can never remember when any song came out. Seriously. Ask my sister, who knows what year every song, movie, Olympic event and car commercial happened in.
17. Compared to this time last year you are.... My immediate impulse is to say 'depressingly the same', but I know that's just how I feel right now. I'm closer to getting my diploma and being employable for the first time in.... whatever, let's not count, it will just make me sad. I'm closer to knowing what it feels like to have enough sleep, I am, I am, I totally am, me and my brain will FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT. I've made a few new friends and not lost any that I know of.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Playing the piano. Writing. Exercising. Playing with my kids AND cleaning the house, because I know they say you'll regret not doing the first more than the second but let's face it, the second thing has to happen at SOME point.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Being anxious.
20. How will you be spending Christmas? Seriously? People do these before Christmas? I spent Christmas with family and friends. I did Christmas Eve dinner and my mother made Christmas dinner and brought it over here so the kids would be at home with all their Christmas presents, making me realize that 1) my mother fucking rocks it and 2) I need to grow up and cook the goddamned turkey one of these years. My sister and her family came after Christmas and we hung out for a few days. We had friends over for New Year's. It was all fairly relaxed and very convivial.
21. Did you fall in love in 2012? Did I mention my new fridge? I only put the prettiest magnets on it. We have something very special.
22. How many one night stands? Ew. Get bent, you sleazy meme.
23. What was your favourite TV program? Homeland, Dr. Who, Community. I had heard people talk about Community and I knew it was one of those shows I 'should' be watching, but never got into it. Then I watched a few with Zarah in the fall, and they were awesome, but then I forgot about it again. Then I started marathoning them while wrapping Christmas gifts and then watched a bunch more on my new iPad while curled up in bed with bronchitis. I can't adequately describe how much I love it. It reminds me of two of my favourite past shows - Picket Fences and Northern Exposure - in that it admits the possibility of weirdness in everyday life. I only have four episodes left. Wah.
24. Do you hate anyone you didn't hate this time last year? Probably, but in this case it's kind of nice to have such a crappy memory.
25. What was the best book you read? I'll save this for my 2012 book review post.
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? I don't really make musical discoveries. I wait for other people to make them, and then I decide whether to jump on the bandwagon or pretend I'm too sophisticated for the bandwagon.
27. What did you want and get? Passing marks on my courses - even the really, really hard one. Books. Fridges. Hugs and kisses. Alexis Hinde's empanada recipe.
28. What was your favourite film of this year? Uh, crappy memory problems again. Was Hugo this year? Was 50/50 this year? I loved those. I don't have terribly sophisticated taste in movies, though. I liked The Avengers too. And Les Mis, but more on that in a post where I tell David Denby to suck it. Oh! Oh! The Cabin in the Woods! Horror movie (which I love) through the filter of Joss Whedon (who I adore) - SO SO GOOD. Okay, actually it says it's a 2011 film, whatever.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? My girlfriends took me out for dinner and to see Bridesmaids. I was 42.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If the CPAP machine had been more miraculously comprehensive and immediate in its effects, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012? Leather studded corset and stiletto heels, of course.
32. What kept you sane? Blogging. Twitter. Online friendships. Pam.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I really tried not to steal Hannah's on this one, but I really can't improve on perfection. Plus, he was in The Cabin in the Woods.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? Women's reproductive rights (in the States and here) and the struggle between the government and the teachers' union in Ontario. Oy.
35. Who did you miss? My sister. Zarah. My brothers-in-law and their families. Everyone who lives too damned far away. When I see them it's both wonderful and bittersweet because it reminds me how awesome it would be if we could see each other regularly.
36. Who was the best new person you met? Kim.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012. Uh. That most valuable life lessons take a lifetime to be learned? And have to be learned over and over again? So this question is a tiny bit silly? Or else I just can't think of one, so shut up?
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. When your whole life is on the tip of your tongue/ Empty phrases for the no-longer-young/ The apathy of time laughs in your face/ Did you hear me say/ Each life has its place.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Rusty Gears
Should blog. Don't feel like blogging. Anybody want to blog for me?
I just spent half an hour noodling around on the internet trying to find the title and/or author of a book I read that I really liked, so I could check if the author had anything more recent. I realized, as I was googling, that all I can really remember is that the main character was an alcoholic female police detective. I can't remember what the mystery was or even what the setting was - Hawaii, maybe? So perhaps, in the event that I do remember which book it is, I should just reread that book instead of looking for a new one. In related news, I am not going to divest myself of the hundreds of books in my house and just keep a dozen or so, on the assumption that, by the time I work my way through all of them, I will have forgotten enough about the first one that it will then be new to me again.
Matt is telling us about wandering around a park in Tokyo where they have designated spots in which you are allowed to be homeless. Also, giant spiders. And baseball practices that are run like young offenders camps. Then he said something about Buddhists and Angus said "are Buddhists those people who pray?"
I keep typing sentences and erasing them, while mentally enumerating all the posts I have planned on writing that have not been written. The one about the fairy who lived in Eve's headboard. The one about the kids switching rooms, with pictures. The one about seeing the Wailin' Jennys in concert. The one about last weekend in Montreal which was AWESOME and the post should write its goddamned self, and yet it DOES NOT. The good news is, tomorrow I go to visit Zarah for the week-end, and she will indubitably give me a good talking-to, whereupon I will return to blogging refreshed and re-inspired. Or just afraid to risk the consequences.
The kids were talking about shaving the other day, and Angus said "Does Daddy shave every day?" and I said usually, but definitely when he goes to work, whereupon Eve said "well yeah, he has to shave for his report card." Then later she said she thought her junior kindergarten teacher, who was also Angus's junior kindergarten teacher, had switched classrooms. This surprised me, since Catherine has had the same room for the seven years I've had kids at the school (jesus christ, I've had kids at school for SEVEN FUCKING YEARS?) and it's an awesome room. I asked Eve why she thought that and she said "well, I saw her coming out of a different room", and I gave her a perplexed look, and she said penitently, "this is how rumours get started, isn't it?"
I hate this post. I hate being stuck. I hate that stupid fucking caramel apple bagel commercial.
I just spent half an hour noodling around on the internet trying to find the title and/or author of a book I read that I really liked, so I could check if the author had anything more recent. I realized, as I was googling, that all I can really remember is that the main character was an alcoholic female police detective. I can't remember what the mystery was or even what the setting was - Hawaii, maybe? So perhaps, in the event that I do remember which book it is, I should just reread that book instead of looking for a new one. In related news, I am not going to divest myself of the hundreds of books in my house and just keep a dozen or so, on the assumption that, by the time I work my way through all of them, I will have forgotten enough about the first one that it will then be new to me again.
Matt is telling us about wandering around a park in Tokyo where they have designated spots in which you are allowed to be homeless. Also, giant spiders. And baseball practices that are run like young offenders camps. Then he said something about Buddhists and Angus said "are Buddhists those people who pray?"
I keep typing sentences and erasing them, while mentally enumerating all the posts I have planned on writing that have not been written. The one about the fairy who lived in Eve's headboard. The one about the kids switching rooms, with pictures. The one about seeing the Wailin' Jennys in concert. The one about last weekend in Montreal which was AWESOME and the post should write its goddamned self, and yet it DOES NOT. The good news is, tomorrow I go to visit Zarah for the week-end, and she will indubitably give me a good talking-to, whereupon I will return to blogging refreshed and re-inspired. Or just afraid to risk the consequences.
The kids were talking about shaving the other day, and Angus said "Does Daddy shave every day?" and I said usually, but definitely when he goes to work, whereupon Eve said "well yeah, he has to shave for his report card." Then later she said she thought her junior kindergarten teacher, who was also Angus's junior kindergarten teacher, had switched classrooms. This surprised me, since Catherine has had the same room for the seven years I've had kids at the school (jesus christ, I've had kids at school for SEVEN FUCKING YEARS?) and it's an awesome room. I asked Eve why she thought that and she said "well, I saw her coming out of a different room", and I gave her a perplexed look, and she said penitently, "this is how rumours get started, isn't it?"
I hate this post. I hate being stuck. I hate that stupid fucking caramel apple bagel commercial.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
HangovHer
People were blogging about BlogHer yesterday. People were blogging about BlogHer AT BLOGHER! If I went with my instincts, I would be blogging about BlogHer a week from next Thursday at the earliest. I am WIPED. I keep waking up at 4 a.m. and wondering where the hell I am. I nearly started sobbing in the grocery store today when I couldn't find the plantains. I beam loonily at everyone I see and wonder why they don't seem to find me delightful like everyone in New York did.
There are a lot of reasons to go to BlogHer. Improving or Tightening-the-focus-of or Monetizing or Branding your blog are certainly among them, but they weren't among mine. I bought my ticket on a whim last summer when Marilyn said I didn't have to be 'more serious' about blogging to go to BlogHer, I could just go and hang out in New York with some girlfriends (and that she would room with me), and I consulted my husband and he was for it. After buying the ticket and booking the flight, I went into a kind of denial about the whole thing.
When I got to the conference and looked at the list of sessions, I felt a bit like I had missed the boat in a way. I wasn't sure if I should have done a little more research or thought a little more about what I could get out of the sessions. Some of them were pretty far beyond me. I decided not to sweat it and went to the two that really appealed to me, on the grounds of subject matter and people leading the discussion: Blogging for the Love of it with Bon Stewart, Alexandra Rosas and Dorothy Snarker; and Room of Your Own/ Blog2012 A Conversation with Schmutzie, Laurie White and Neil Kramer. Both sessions were wonderful - inspiring, moving, funny and completely enjoyable. I also went to all the keynotes and the opening and closing. I don't have a lot of experience with conferences and a lot of it was quite overwhelming, but also great, and new, and utterly different from my everyday life, and fabulous.
At the end of the conference, Marilyn and Amber asked if I felt like it was worth it and if I would go again. I was spacy and tired and we were in a loud room and I was rambling and she was squinting at me uncomprehendingly and finally I said I was trying to ask if they thought it was legitimate to go to BlogHer just because it's fun. I don't feel like my blogging life is revitalized now or anything, but the warmth and energy of that many people who are passionate about the same thing being in the same place is really quite something. Being able to meet and squish people I've only known online for months or years was fantastic. It turns out that people who are awesome on the internet tend to be awesome in real life - I like that this is something that I know now. So yes, I think even if I never got anything more out of future BlogHers than I got out of this one, I would go again. Because it was big glittery buckets of fun.
I loved the Katie Couric and Martha Stewart interviews, even though I've long had a faint knee-jerk dislike of Martha Stewart. Voices of the Year was amazing. I know what The Suniverse and Aurelia Cotta look like now. The Empress recognized me! (well, she said 'Biblio.....something, right? and that's GOOD ENOUGH, PEOPLE, it's the GODDAMNED EMPRESS!). I drank fabulous drinks on a Manhattan rooftop. I danced my ass off with Beach Mama (although it's somehow managed to find its way home, dammit). A gay man in Central Park said my hair was fabulous and he'd turned straight for the thirty seconds it took him to walk up to me (yes, he was collecting money for charity, but I'd only given him two dollars, so...)
It was great. I'm still processing. I'm so tired.
There are a lot of reasons to go to BlogHer. Improving or Tightening-the-focus-of or Monetizing or Branding your blog are certainly among them, but they weren't among mine. I bought my ticket on a whim last summer when Marilyn said I didn't have to be 'more serious' about blogging to go to BlogHer, I could just go and hang out in New York with some girlfriends (and that she would room with me), and I consulted my husband and he was for it. After buying the ticket and booking the flight, I went into a kind of denial about the whole thing.
When I got to the conference and looked at the list of sessions, I felt a bit like I had missed the boat in a way. I wasn't sure if I should have done a little more research or thought a little more about what I could get out of the sessions. Some of them were pretty far beyond me. I decided not to sweat it and went to the two that really appealed to me, on the grounds of subject matter and people leading the discussion: Blogging for the Love of it with Bon Stewart, Alexandra Rosas and Dorothy Snarker; and Room of Your Own/ Blog2012 A Conversation with Schmutzie, Laurie White and Neil Kramer. Both sessions were wonderful - inspiring, moving, funny and completely enjoyable. I also went to all the keynotes and the opening and closing. I don't have a lot of experience with conferences and a lot of it was quite overwhelming, but also great, and new, and utterly different from my everyday life, and fabulous.
At the end of the conference, Marilyn and Amber asked if I felt like it was worth it and if I would go again. I was spacy and tired and we were in a loud room and I was rambling and she was squinting at me uncomprehendingly and finally I said I was trying to ask if they thought it was legitimate to go to BlogHer just because it's fun. I don't feel like my blogging life is revitalized now or anything, but the warmth and energy of that many people who are passionate about the same thing being in the same place is really quite something. Being able to meet and squish people I've only known online for months or years was fantastic. It turns out that people who are awesome on the internet tend to be awesome in real life - I like that this is something that I know now. So yes, I think even if I never got anything more out of future BlogHers than I got out of this one, I would go again. Because it was big glittery buckets of fun.
I loved the Katie Couric and Martha Stewart interviews, even though I've long had a faint knee-jerk dislike of Martha Stewart. Voices of the Year was amazing. I know what The Suniverse and Aurelia Cotta look like now. The Empress recognized me! (well, she said 'Biblio.....something, right? and that's GOOD ENOUGH, PEOPLE, it's the GODDAMNED EMPRESS!). I drank fabulous drinks on a Manhattan rooftop. I danced my ass off with Beach Mama (although it's somehow managed to find its way home, dammit). A gay man in Central Park said my hair was fabulous and he'd turned straight for the thirty seconds it took him to walk up to me (yes, he was collecting money for charity, but I'd only given him two dollars, so...)
It was great. I'm still processing. I'm so tired.
Monday, July 30, 2012
I Can't Go On I'll Go On
T minus 48 hours before I leave for BlogHer and I've never felt more conflicted about blogging. Is that ironic? Or just pathetic?
I've said many times that I've gotten everything I wanted out of blogging: an outlet for writing; a great community; a bunch of wonderful, creative, hilarious new friends; and a few free books.
I am opposed to the concept of unrestrained growth. I hated when I worked at Chapters and they were always on us to push the stupid rewards card on everyone - look, some people just want to come in and buy their frigging book of crossword puzzles and pay and leave, okay? People who regularly come in and buy a buttload of books probably already have the card, and people who don't want it just get pissed off when you ask them AGAIN if they want it. (Mysteriously, I've never taken an aptitude test that suggested I would be good in sales).
I don't like the idea of constantly having to grow my blog, expand my readership, create a brand, find new markets etc. etc. either. Some people start out blogging as a business and make it work really well, which is great for them. Some people fall into a good way to monetize what they're already doing - this makes me both admiring and jealous. I can't do it. It has nothing to do with integrity - I'm just too self-conscious, or lazy, or inconsistent in my interests, to make this work.
That said, I am feeling a slight sense of blog malaise at the moment. Maybe it's just the summer, or the beginning-of-summer craziness with driving/houseguests/baseball/baseball/baseball. But I'm considering the fact that I might need to put a bit more thought into what I want this blog to be (and by 'a bit more' I mean 'any'), although I swear on the lives of my children that you will never ever find the words 'mission statement' used here, and if you do you have my permission to heap digital spit-covered scorn on me.
So. I will try to be less lazy about taking and posting crappy pictures with my sub-standard cameras. I will try to be less chickenshit about wading into discussions about controversial current events. I will try to screw up more recipes and go on more painful and humiliating field trips for your mocking pleasure. And if all else fails, Eve's still nine - surely I can wring a few more cute misstatements or hilarious amusing anecdotes out of her before I shut this baby down forever. Oh! Oh! Here: a picture of her play at the end of drama camp here in Ottawa. The five girls wrote the play together with their counsellor: Eve plays a mean orphanage director named Mrs. Doublebutt (pronounced Doob-lay-boo) who takes in two orphan girls and mistreats them, but then Santa comes and they wake up so he offers to grant them two wishes if they'll pretend they never saw him, and then there's a dance-off - what? Shut up, they had three days, it was awesome.
I've said many times that I've gotten everything I wanted out of blogging: an outlet for writing; a great community; a bunch of wonderful, creative, hilarious new friends; and a few free books.
I am opposed to the concept of unrestrained growth. I hated when I worked at Chapters and they were always on us to push the stupid rewards card on everyone - look, some people just want to come in and buy their frigging book of crossword puzzles and pay and leave, okay? People who regularly come in and buy a buttload of books probably already have the card, and people who don't want it just get pissed off when you ask them AGAIN if they want it. (Mysteriously, I've never taken an aptitude test that suggested I would be good in sales).
I don't like the idea of constantly having to grow my blog, expand my readership, create a brand, find new markets etc. etc. either. Some people start out blogging as a business and make it work really well, which is great for them. Some people fall into a good way to monetize what they're already doing - this makes me both admiring and jealous. I can't do it. It has nothing to do with integrity - I'm just too self-conscious, or lazy, or inconsistent in my interests, to make this work.
That said, I am feeling a slight sense of blog malaise at the moment. Maybe it's just the summer, or the beginning-of-summer craziness with driving/houseguests/baseball/baseball/baseball. But I'm considering the fact that I might need to put a bit more thought into what I want this blog to be (and by 'a bit more' I mean 'any'), although I swear on the lives of my children that you will never ever find the words 'mission statement' used here, and if you do you have my permission to heap digital spit-covered scorn on me.
So. I will try to be less lazy about taking and posting crappy pictures with my sub-standard cameras. I will try to be less chickenshit about wading into discussions about controversial current events. I will try to screw up more recipes and go on more painful and humiliating field trips for your mocking pleasure. And if all else fails, Eve's still nine - surely I can wring a few more cute misstatements or hilarious amusing anecdotes out of her before I shut this baby down forever. Oh! Oh! Here: a picture of her play at the end of drama camp here in Ottawa. The five girls wrote the play together with their counsellor: Eve plays a mean orphanage director named Mrs. Doublebutt (pronounced Doob-lay-boo) who takes in two orphan girls and mistreats them, but then Santa comes and they wake up so he offers to grant them two wishes if they'll pretend they never saw him, and then there's a dance-off - what? Shut up, they had three days, it was awesome.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Recursion 23
Scintilla Day 9: Write a list of 23. (23 things to do, 23 people you owe apologies
to, 23 books you've lied about reading, 23 things you can see from
where you're sitting, 23 ten-word hooks for stories you want to
tell....)
Notwithstanding the fact that any project that mentions LYING about reading books is momentarily on VERY SHAKY GROUND with me, here is my list of ... lists.
I couldn't think of anything to list, and going random just seemed too easy, so I googled list of, and then got caught up in all the lists there are. Which then makes this kind of random, doesn't it? Look, my husband's away and I did dance class AND playoff hockey last night, okay? AND the other team almost tied it up in the last four seconds. My nerves are SHOT.
1. List of colours. Colour swatches from domain-specific naming schemes, and a bunch of other stuff I don't understand, but the names are cool. Android Green. Dark Byzantium. Caput Mortuum (that means 'dead head' or 'worthless remains' which is totally something I would like to have on my bedroom walls, how about you?)
2. List of the top ten evil children in fiction. Recently I watched Orphan and Joshua, which made me wonder what the hell I was thinking, and then question what the hell Vera Farmiga was thinking, especially the second time. Is there anything scarier than evil children? Evil bunnies, maybe? Especially because the people in the evil children books or movies have apparently never read or seen an evil-child book or movie, so no one ever believes the person who figures out that the kid is evil, while the poor person reading or watching is going "But it's so obvious! The child is EVIL! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!"
3. The top 17 most overused movie soundtrack songs. I had no idea the Big Butts song was in so many movies.
4. The phobia list. Acerophobia - fear of sourness. Blennophobia - fear of slime. Zelophobia - fear of jealousy. Automatonophobia - fear of ventriloquists' dummies, animatronic creatures, wax statues - anything that falsely represents a sentient being (this seems to me both uncreatively named and JUST GOOD COMMON SENSE). Soceraphobia - fear of parents-in-law (not touching that one). You guys - this list is FUN.
5. Top ten animals you didn't know were venomous. BUNNIES. Just kidding. But look!
It's as cute as a bunny - and it's venomous AND poisonous.
6. The Penis List. It's rude. It's crude. It's for the shallow and easily amused. Needless to say, I laughed my ass off.
7. The top ten most misunderstood lines in literary history. If you're anything like me, you will approach this list with an insufferable degree of smugness and immediately be demolished by the fact that HOLY CRAP, that's NOT what that Robert Frost poem means AT ALL. Hmph.
8. List of Doofenshmirtz's schemes and inventions. In case you're ever in the need of an idea for a good 'Inator'. Because who doesn't want to show the entire Tri-State area who's boss some days?
9. List of songs that contain lists. Too meta? Sorry.
10. A List of Dragon Movies.
11. Lucky and unlucky Chinese numbers. Just, you know, in case.
12. The Elf Name Generator. Oh pipe down Gurutphen, so it's not a list, it's fun.
13. List of antibiotics. Blephamide sort of sounds like it could be an elf name, doesn't it?
14. Top ten amazing holes in the earth. You think I'M copping out here? One of these is called the Great Blue Hole!
15. List of hysterical fridge notes, which I can't link to because one was too gross. Sorry.
16. 12 hilarious teachers' replies. This one should be safe.
17. List of Pokémon by National Pokédex Number. Some of you will thank me for this some day. The rest of you, move along.
18. List of the world's billionaires. You never know when you might need one. And to the Spanx chick - NO ONE DESERVES IT MORE.
19. List of Challenged Books and Magazines in Canada from Februry 2012. Including that hot-button tome, Ziggy Piggy and the Three Little Pigs.
20. List of Endangered Languages: Be a sport - learn Dzongkha today. Feel slightly guilty if you can't help chuckling ruefully when you learn that the last two fluent speakers of Ayapaneco aren't speaking to each other.
21. List of curry recipes. Yes, I have spent way too long on this list and I need to go make dinner. Too bad I don't have any snake gourd on hand.
22. List of Kangaroo Words. Here is a good definition of kangaroo words, which I knew nothing about until two minutes ago and about which I am now ridiculously excited.
23. List of positive affirmations. Because I feel like I reverted to my regular blog persona somewhat on this one, so I went a TOTAL OTHER WAY just to keep you off balance. See? I can be positive and affirmative or whatever.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Sunday Scenes
I was surfing the NaBloPoMo blogroll this morning, as I have most days this month. The first blog post I read was about the blogger's one-year-old and it was cute, but she closes comments and requests emails instead because "it will mean more to both of us".
(sound of loud annoying buzzer like the kind that means you guessed WRONG on a game show)
I LIKE leaving comments. I don't leave one unless I feel it's meaningful. I rarely get one that I don't consider meaningful (assuming it's from a real person). Also, when I click on 'email me' on a blog, I get this email form that doesn't work, so I have to click over to my email and type the address in. In other words, she would have had me as a reader and now she does not.
The second blog was a cool book blog - instead of full reviews each post was just general musing about whatever part of the book the blogger was at. But a few posts down was a post saying he was doing NaBloPoMo but was still on the fence about it and didn't really see the point, plus he was so sick he probably wouldn't be able to keep doing it.
(sound of loud annoying buzzer etc.)
Fortunately, then I found this blog (cute and relatable) and this blog (funny, cool and a little dirty), so I didn't feel like the entire blogroll was filled with whiny fence-sitting pretentious gits.
Angus had a 6 a.m. hockey practice this morning. Angus's new bed in his bedroom is a loft bed with a ladder. He slept in the basement the entire time Matt was away because Eve was sick and he wanted no part of it (even though he demanded updates on her condition every hour). At the end of the week-end we made him move back into his room. Matt is now of the opinion that Angus should sleep in the basement whenever he has a 6 a.m. hockey game or practice because "do you have any idea how impossible it is to drag a 120-pound half-asleep kid down that ladder at 5 a.m.?" Matt then did a hilarious impression of himself jumping up and down, saying "Angus, get up" at the top of every jump. Apparently teddy bears were thrown and it was a whole big bad scene.
Speaking of bad scenes, Matt and I went to get passport photos taken this afternoon. The whole not smiling thing is really bad for me - I need the smile to tighten up my first chin or the second one becomes really obvious. Sigh.
Speaking of even more bad scenes, me and my double chin are going to see Twilight tonight. Stay tuned for much mocking and hilarity.
(sound of loud annoying buzzer like the kind that means you guessed WRONG on a game show)
I LIKE leaving comments. I don't leave one unless I feel it's meaningful. I rarely get one that I don't consider meaningful (assuming it's from a real person). Also, when I click on 'email me' on a blog, I get this email form that doesn't work, so I have to click over to my email and type the address in. In other words, she would have had me as a reader and now she does not.
The second blog was a cool book blog - instead of full reviews each post was just general musing about whatever part of the book the blogger was at. But a few posts down was a post saying he was doing NaBloPoMo but was still on the fence about it and didn't really see the point, plus he was so sick he probably wouldn't be able to keep doing it.
(sound of loud annoying buzzer etc.)
Fortunately, then I found this blog (cute and relatable) and this blog (funny, cool and a little dirty), so I didn't feel like the entire blogroll was filled with whiny fence-sitting pretentious gits.
Angus had a 6 a.m. hockey practice this morning. Angus's new bed in his bedroom is a loft bed with a ladder. He slept in the basement the entire time Matt was away because Eve was sick and he wanted no part of it (even though he demanded updates on her condition every hour). At the end of the week-end we made him move back into his room. Matt is now of the opinion that Angus should sleep in the basement whenever he has a 6 a.m. hockey game or practice because "do you have any idea how impossible it is to drag a 120-pound half-asleep kid down that ladder at 5 a.m.?" Matt then did a hilarious impression of himself jumping up and down, saying "Angus, get up" at the top of every jump. Apparently teddy bears were thrown and it was a whole big bad scene.
Speaking of bad scenes, Matt and I went to get passport photos taken this afternoon. The whole not smiling thing is really bad for me - I need the smile to tighten up my first chin or the second one becomes really obvious. Sigh.
Speaking of even more bad scenes, me and my double chin are going to see Twilight tonight. Stay tuned for much mocking and hilarity.
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