Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Neile Graham's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, November 18th, 2012
7:15 pm	Note to self A month ago I wrote myself this email, but I thought I'd copy it here to remind myself (and get it out of my inbox). Note that I rarely remember my dreams. Last night I dreamt of the most beautiful islands. They were enchanted. The colours of the landscape were so beautiful they were almost surreal. I was on a ferry headed toward them, then I got separated from the people I was with and had to run around looking for them and it became a more normal dream. But those islands! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, July 30th, 2012
4:39 pm	Report from Week Six (The End!) of the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon Hey, all-- It's over. So soon. I'm missing this year's students, and having trouble adjusting to the fact that the 100%-writing-enabling time of my year is already done. It feels like we just started. There are still a few things to wrap up, including a sorority house's worth of pillows piled up on my bed so I can be sure they're totally dry before I pack them up, but that's all. I managed just the bare minimum seven hours unplugged working on the novel this week. The main excuse for not managing more time was (as I mentioned in last week's report) that I spent a few days days fighting off a bad cold--the first time in the twelve years I've been working with the workshop that I got sick. It meant that I missed a day in the workshop and worst of all, I missed Chuck Palahnuik's reading, which I heard was wonderful and included flying tigers. Flying tigers! Damn. I am pleased with the novel progress I made--it's moving along rather than trudging right now, which feels good. I'm just at the cusp of one of the big, fun plot events, so it's good to know where I'm going. All the weirdnesses of my protagonist's experience thus far are coming to a head. This week's poem is a glosa, which is a poem where you take four lines from another poet's work, and build your own poem around them, using each of the four lines for the last of a ten-line stanza. There are also end rhymes on the 6th, 9th, and 10th lines. I've had these four lines from Orkney poet George Mackay Brown in a file for a couple of years, waiting for the right moment to strike me, and when I opened file on Wednesday, this poem spilled right in. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you all again so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! Love, --Neile ---------- The Lark, The Peat, The Star, and Our Time And a lark flashed a needle across the west And we spread a thousand peats Between one summer star And the black chaos of fire at the earth's centre. —George Mackay Brown It was the year when there was no summer, when it hid under banks of rain, ducked behind fog, dashing across the street in front of us, rolling under a car and out the other side, its face flashing in a side mirror, flirting for our notice, as though it were a test of our worthiness. We weren't. Worthy that is. ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or who cheers me on.] (Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 24th, 2012
2:52 pm	Report from Week Five of the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon Hey, all-- Thank you again for supporting both me and Clarion West. This was a wonderful, totally packed week. We had the incredible Kelly Link and Gavin Grant team teaching as writers/editors, and they brought along their lovely daughter, Ursula, and Kelly's delightful mother, Annie. It was great, but oh so busy. So busy that for the first time ever, and most inconveniently, I have gotten sick during the workshop. Just a bad cold with a slight fever, but today I missed class and will likely be missing tonight's reading because I don't want to subject people to my charming sound effects when they're trying to listen to Chuck Palahniuk. This means I will miss not only Chuck's reading (boo!), but the public announcement about next year's line-up. Sigh. Because of all the busy, once again I barely managed to complete my seven hours offline. I made some progress, and the beginning of the novel is starting to feel solid. Better yet, I'm beginning to feel my way into forthcoming events, so the shadow of the novel-to-come is taking shape. Yay! However, the poem I was working on for this week stalled out entirely. It sat there sullenly with five not-very-exciting lines until I gave up on it for now. At the last minute I asked Jim for a number between 1 and 20. He said 14. So I went to my Child's Ballads, opened up #14, and took every 14th word from all the variant versions printed there. I stirred those words with a big stick and this is what I came up with...first draft, remember? Maybe the first word of the title is a clue to the poem, though it's the title of the ballad the words come from. Babylon; Or, The Bonnie Banks of Fordie fair Marjorie was an outlyer and went by the knife but John the ploughman He taen her for life there from his house she took her stand "will ye rather me stand by Whan ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or who cheers me on.] (Comment on this)
Monday, July 16th, 2012
1:07 pm	Report from Week Four of the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon Hey, all-- Thank you again for supporting my writing and Clarion West. This was a great week. Connie Willis is such a wonderful presence at the workshop: a lovely person and full of both nuts-and-bolts and inspiration. The class seems to be tired (what a surprise) but otherwise holding up well. I suppose I am the same. Again I barely managed to complete my seven hours offline. There was just so much to do, but I'm glad I managed it. The new novel now feels that it has a solid foundation. It's not coming as quickly as I might hope (so much for my wish to have a complete first draft before returning to my UW job in September) but I'm pleased with what I have, and especially am having fun working with my smart-mouth protagonist. This week's poem was a bit of a struggle, too. It arose from reading up on Scottish alchemists, and I'm not certain why I started doing that. They don't have anything to do with the novel that I know of, nor particularly for the poems I want to work on, except the Scottish part, and the magical thinking part, maybe. One article I came across included a 17th-century English translation of a 16th-century poem written in Latin by Scottish alchemist, George Buchanan, which basically is a refutation of Copernicus, arguing how the earth really is the center of creation. I found these sections scattered through the poem and my own words started to build themselves around them. It felt random but also obsessive. This is very much a first draft, but here it is. It's about writing and reading messages, and lighting a spark where there is none. I hope you find it interesting, and thank you again for supporting my writing. Love, --Neile ---------- The Alchemy -- Georgij Bucanani de Sphaera. Lib. i. in English verse translated by I. C.-- _The tymes of light & shade, Turnes heat to Colde, And sunne & moone with darkenes doth enfolde,_ spark a match to the wick. Light the dark. This is the small apocalypse we live each day, our cells dying as we build ourselves anew. Open the book. Inside it: ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or who cheers me on.] (Comment on this)
Monday, July 9th, 2012
7:56 pm	Report from Week Three of the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon Hey, all-- Thank you again for supporting me--Clarion West appreciates it and I especially do. This was a hectic week, and I learned what it means to be a rock star. Intellectually, I knew, but really it wasn't until I spent time this week with George R. R. Martin that I got to see what it was like in action. It was strange. In the classroom and around the workshop mostly it was normal, but all around it there were a lot of people wanting bits of George's time. Emailing. Phoning. Emailing and phoning. When I drove him to his reading we went past the front doors and he said "I hope they don't see me" and I realized that yes, some of that crowd would be perfectly capable of thrusting something through the car window for him to sign. So I blocked him from view. The reading was an Event. He is a master of the Event. I'm wondering if I should auction off the seat of my car he sat in...I bet someone would want to turn it into a throne of swords. Anyway, that was interesting. I don't know how he stays so sane (and he does--he's very matter of fact). In class his critiques were tough but good, and I think the students learned a lot from him. He has a lot of knowledge to share. As for my own work, this week I just barely scraped by with my seven hours offline. It seemed whenever I sat down to write there was someone who needed something or a ride somewhere or just some organizing, or...anyway, I squeaked through. I have finally stopped tinkering with the old novel and the new novel is slowly gathering words and momentum. Good thing I started my poem early, because it was a birthday present for Jim, whose birthday was Friday and I knew I wouldn't be able to be around much Friday so I wanted to give him something special. I gave it to him Thursday night as it turned midnight, since technically it was 6th. This one started because I've been haunted by a dream I had a while back where a stream filled with migrating salmon ran under our kitchen floor. And I guess on his birthday (since he *hates* birthdays and I wasn't going to be around much) I wanted to talk to him about the richness of our life together. I hope you enjoy the poem, and thank you again for supporting my writing. Love, --Neile ---------- With Bats in our Belfry, Dear, Earth Water and Sky Our kitchen proved a considerable obstacle to the spawning salmon. Back and forth at its doorway they bobbed nosing the threshold. The sparrows slipped in through the vents roosting high with an eye to the cats. The cats certainly had an eye for them. ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or who cheers me on.] (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, July 2nd, 2012
11:39 am	Report from Week Two of the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon This was an energetic, upbeat, and hard-working week for the Clarion West students as they submitted their first real stories (rather than exercise stories) and had them critiqued by the class and by the quite wonderful Stephen Graham Jones. He is an impressive teacher and a lot of fun, as well. His style was a great match for Clarion West, and also followed marvelous first-week instructor Mary Rosenblum well. He was very different from her, but in a complementary rather than contradictory way. I love watching how the progression of instructors each shapes the class and its culture. This was a somewhat quieter week for me, so I exceeded my write-a-thon time commitment by several hours (I stopped keeping track at the end). The Freedom software, which cuts me off from the internet but not from our internal network, works beautifully for me, and is a much better solution than actually unplugging the modem. Also, for the first time ever I'm not using Word to write in. I'm using Scrivener. I've owned it for a long time but never gave it a proper try-out and I'm liking it a lot so far. It helps track things I formerly used extra Word files, paper notes, post-it notes, and the Mac Stickies (basically electronic stickies) for. I think I finally finished tinkering on the first novel this week. I worked on it, the week's poem, and the new novel in turns. I made certain that I added a little to the new novel each day--maybe I should mention its title, since I think this is one that will stick, The Silver Bones--because I hope to build up momentum. This week's poem is a little more whimsical than last. I made the mistake of showing it to Jim early, and he suggested (wait! I didn't ask for suggestions!) that it needed cutting, so what you have here is a second rather than first draft. And yes, Jim, I think it's better for the cutting and reshaping. He also assures me that it wasn't too cutesy. I hope you agree. One of the Clarion West students is a medieval scholar and says she can translate my title into Latin for me. I'm going to wait to ask her until after the workshop, though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you again for supporting my writing. Love, --Neile ---------- Cats Aren't From Around Here. Really. The cats are studying me like I might be the solution to a problem and I don't mean the one about tin openers. The iridescence of their eyes means they've been cat-stepping faster than light across universes tinkering with cosmic mechanics. ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or who cheers me on.] (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 25th, 2012
8:47 pm	Report from Week One of the Clarion West Write-a-thon Hey, all-- Thank you so much for your support of me, and of Clarion West. I am somewhat embarrassed that the Write-a-thon is the only thing that keeps me making time to concentrate on my own work while the workshop is running, but knowing you are out there and a report is due keeps me making that writing time. Recently I've been struggling with a new novel--one that was originally a short story--and I've been frustrated over and over at trying to crack the story open to let out the novel that's in it. I was wrestling with it this week, and had a sudden revelation about--this is a "duh" moment--dramatizing a portion that I had been having my main character narrate. Then I fell into a rabbit hole. I've never been quite happy with the first chapter of my first novel, the one I finished revising (or thought I had) last year. Even since I'd done a drastic cut, I'd thought it started too quickly, and I realized I needed to start the novel just an hour earlier and dramatize the the preliminary action before the first scene. That led to some other tinkering and I knew I needed to work on the end just a *bit* more. I wound up spending much of the week on it, but I'm very happy with the work I did. Even after I realized I'd committed to seven hours offline a week rather than five (the number that was in my poor memory), and had to work from 11:00 to 1:00 last night to complete my commitment, I was happy. The Clarion West students had a great week and it was terrific watching Mary Rosenblum work with them. Exciting, even. This is a really promising group and they're a lot of fun. I feel honoured to be helping them have this wonderful workshop experience. I love watching them get to know each other and start writing and critiquing each others' work. Oh, and this week's poem draft. Hmm. 2012 has been a brutal year in many ways, and the echoes go deep. Not that there haven't been wonderful things, too, because there certain have been, but I've been a little haunted, and this poem reflects that. Thank you again for supporting my writing. Love, --Neile ---------- Clear-Cut Spirit Song --for Devin-- What remains? Waste all around me and I still stand. What am I spared for? Spared. Which means alone, doesn't it? Which means sole survivor. But I'm not. ... ----- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or will serve as a cheerleader.] (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 9th, 2012
1:08 pm	77-7-7 Meme 1. Go to page 77 (or 7th) of your current ms 2. Go to line 7 3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written. No cheating. Since the current project doesn't yet have 77 pages, I went to the 7th line of page 7, which was the start of a paragraph. Seven sentences brought me this: I might be excited, too, if she hadn't already shown me lots of bits of stone and bone and shell that could have been anything and looked more like nothing--still, it's a chance to get back under shelter without her scoring any points. So I lift the crackling tarp and duck under the metal frame that holds it above the precious dirt. "What?" I keep my voice flat, so she can't feel like she really has my attention--which is a waste of time because she doesn't notice. She's frantically sweeping the dirt away with a paintbrush, an artist caught up in a moment of frenetic inspiration, her nose inches from the handle's end. "Shit!" she says. "It really is something!..." (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, December 31st, 2011
4:57 pm	Les Semaines: December 31, 2011: Year-End Report I apologize for being so silent. 2011 was such a quiet year that I have little to say, and honestly I haven't written here because I felt there was not much that needed saying since the Clarion West Workshop and Write-a-thon this summer. Right now 2012 feels remarkably hopeful to me, and I'm optimistic about things, both personal and professional. I hope all of you feel the same way, and that our optimism proves to be warranted. A healthy, productive, prosperous, fun, and adventurous year full of love, friends, and dreams come true to you. Happy New Year! For the year's report of my listening, reading, and writing lives, see Les Semaines. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 18th, 2011
2:01 pm	Backdated Entry: Written? Kitten! I don't do NaNoWriMo, but I did test Written? Kitten! because who does not want a kitten as a reward for writing? This is my true account of what happened as I wrote. I just want a kitten! Bring me a kitten! Kitten kitten kitten. I could paste in some written words here, but that would be cheating. However, this way the typos are a huge hazard. I wonder what my kitten will look like? It had better be cute. I would like one like my real kittens. That would be funny. I like coincidences like that. However, I have only ever seen one picture like one of my kittens. I have unique-looking kittens. Sort of. As unique as kittens get, I guess. Okay, 91 words. I'm starting the countdown. Almost Kitten Time! Oh, they gave me a Himalayan, I think. Or maybe it's Siamese. The colour is odd so it's hard to tell. It has blue eyes and a pink collar, at least. That's clear. My previous writing sample already had too many howevers. Meanwhile, I'm carrying on with silly words in order to earn another kitten. This probably isn't good. I should have let it go at one kitten, but always, always, two kittens are better than one. I hope I don't get interrupted in my drive for kittens, like by maybe some work I have to do. That would bad. Oh, a tuxedo kitten hiding its face with a rejected stamp on it. Written Kitten, this cannot be good. Just two hundred words and already rejected. The shame of it all! I shall have to hide my own face. I type words and get a rejected cat. This is very sad, and a sad commentary about my writing. I'm slowing down as I type this, worrying that I won't get a third kitten, or I will get another piece of bad news like kitten number two. Rejection is everywhere when you're a writer! This is proof! Who knew that Written ... Shit! Now I get a fluffy gray tabby that may be in water with evil yellow shining from his eyes and it looks like it might bite or commit some other evil. Written Kitten you are not as advertised. Written Kitten you said "cute". Rejection isn't cute, and this snarly cat is NOT CUTE. I feel daunted, I have to say but I'm over the halfway point to another kitten and this is the kitten of truth, this is the final kitten and damn it, it had better be cute I'm telling you. Give me my cute kitten. Now! Oh, definitely cute. Himalayan again. Very cute. What a relief. Now I stop. 413 words. (Comment on this)
Monday, August 1st, 2011
11:25 am	Hello, all-- And we're done. The sorority house is now empty of all the things we brought in to make it the Clarion West Writers Workshop and worst of all, of all the students. The instructors have all gone home. There are still a few things to mail, a few bureaucratic tasks, items to be returned here and there, but it's over. I'm not as exhausted post-workshop as I have been in previous years, though I was pretty punchy on move-out Saturday. I managed just the bare minimum seven hours unplugged working on the novel this week. I also confess that for some portion of that time my eyes were closed. But! I'm now well into the second section (of three) of the novel revision and am really, really happy with what I've done. This is the revision that has finally (to me, at least, time will tell if it works for other readers) kicked it up a level, to what I've always been aiming for. I think it's there: as good as I can make it. It's wonderful but also a little scary. I was worried that the new poem this week would be a poor and hasty thing, but as it turns out I'm pretty happy with this first draft. It's a love poem, but also inspired by our garden and by once again watching a Clarion West class have to say goodbye to each other after six weeks of becoming each others' new tribe. They spent most of their final night together staying up to watch the sunrise together. Thank you all again so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- Chant for Summer Darkness in Northwest Climes The taste of blue, as in bursting berries, as in the air's weight on our tongues, raspberry red as a summer's day turns. West over water, the light once plum once salmon turns aqua turns midnight blue hazed with stars I make you name. ---------- [It's not too late! You can still visit this link to sponsor me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon, at which time I will send you the full draft of this and the other poems I wrote over the course of the write-a-thon.] (Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 26th, 2011
4:30 pm	Report from Week 5 of the Clarion West Write-a-thon This started out as a calm, productive week and I got a lot of good hours working unplugged on the novel. I know I did at least my minimum unplugged hours, and I am now finished with chapters 5 & 6, which means I've completed Part 1 (of 3) of the novel. Then things rather suddenly became chaotic as the students' internet was pulled because the regular residents of the house had continually used too much bandwidth. Our car was stolen and then found again (with an extra bonus! bumper draped over the back seat and trunk space). And some relatives visited who had never been in Seattle before. And of course we are winding toward the end of the workshop. These are my excuses for my late report. The poem this week is another one inspired by my mother (hi, Mom!). Hanging from my bookcase I have a a chilkat bag my mother wove. Chilkat is very different from the way the western world learned to weave, from the very way the yarn is spun in a Z twist, the opposite of the S that our yarn uses. My mother was a student of Bill Holm, and I suspect she heard him say these very words, because her love of Northwest arts and crafts had her pulling cattails to make a cattail mat, being claimed as a cousin so she could attend a native-only basket-weaving workshop, picking porcupine quills on the side of the I-90 as she and Dad moved me to Missoula for grad school, making her own drum from a deer hide (the deer skull lived in our freezer for many years and she needed the brains to tan the hide), and this. These were my old jeans as she prefers loose ones and those weren't tight enough to spin the wool on. Thanks so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- Creation Hymn "You can't know anything, unless you can do it." --Bill Holm To learn is what matters, to be a maker to know from the inside out, and in any case, the usual wool is backwards for this, so she starts from scratch, in her daughter's tight jeans spins a Z twist instead of S rolls clouds of wool between palm and thigh ---------- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or will serve as an LJ or Facebook cheerleader.] (Comment on this)
Monday, July 18th, 2011
9:11 pm	Report from Week 4 of the Clarion West Write-a-thon Hello, all-- A sufficient week. The fourth week, where all the energy flags and the brain rebels. At least mine did. I managed a couple of hours above my minimum working unplugged on my novel, but just barely. This week my total was more like 9 hours, but then there were a lot of distractions, like the annual party at Astrid and Greg Bear's, and taking fourth-week instructor Minister Faust out shopping for goat. I "finished" (am I ever finished?) re-working chapters three and four of the novel. I have sent them away. They're gone. I may look at them no longer. At least until my beta reader tells me to mess with them again. The poem this week is a transformation myth inspired by a ring my mother gave me. It once was a gold bracelet with a Raven charm on it that she realized wasn't authentic work. So she had it re-made, giving a Native designer half of the gold as payment, and he made her a hummingbird ring out of the other half, which she later gave me. I wear it nearly every day. Thanks so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- Transformation Song --for my mother, who gave me this tale-- Raven loses everything in masquerade, loosens everything, melts the golden chains he hangs from, even his igneous charm. ---------- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or will serve as an LJ or Facebook cheerleader.] (Comment on this)
Monday, July 11th, 2011
4:25 pm	Report from Week 3 of the Clarion West Write-a-thon A good week! Once again I managed several more hours unplugged than my minimum, and once again lost count. 12? 13? I've worked every day for at least one hour and tried to do two or more when I could. And learned once again that unplugging is the key to production. Boo! Have I no willpower? Don't answer that. I'm still working on chapter three of my novel, my excuse being that it's a long chapter. A lot happens! And I'm sure the other reason is that its previous revision numbers run in the dozens rather than hundreds as do the first two chapters. The poem first draft this week came from my surprise that I've never run across folklore about rain here or in Scotland. Kind of amazing given how much time we spend in its company. We have Thunderbird, but not rain gods, and of course there *must* be one, am I right or am I right (see below). Thanks so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- The Green Green Rain What richer god than green rain? But where is its story, what tales do we tell of its fey trickster teasing punishing inviting ways? ... --------- [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or will serve as an LJ or Facebook cheerleader.] (Comment on this)
Monday, July 4th, 2011
10:24 pm	Report from Week 2 of the Clarion West Write-a-thon Things have evened out a little after the crazy Locus Awards weekend. I actually managed to get several more hours unplugged than my minimum, though I lost count. 10? 11? I still find that whenever I get even the slightest bit stuck I want go to check my email. When I remember I can't because the modem isn't dangling from the wall I do settle back down to work. It makes an embarrassing amount of difference to my productivity. I'm working on chapter three right now, having gone over the first two chapters about five times and gotten to that point I mentioned last week where I felt I was only making things different, not better, and in danger of making them worse. So I stopped. The sad news this week is that even staying up to dark o'clock didn't net me exactly a poem. Frankly, I'm not sure what this is. Maybe it's my answer to postmodern poetics. Or something. But here it is. A something: "King Orfeo: An Exegesis or: Orpheus was a Liar(1) (1) Lyre! Had a lyre! Or a harp." Still I had fun. Too late at night. P.S. You need to read this using a monospace font. Which I have attempted to program in. Thanks so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- King Orfeo: An Exegesis or: Orpheus was a Liar(1) (1) Lyre! Had a lyre! Or a harp. When, though guarded by a thousand knights(2) (2) Exaggerate much? Or else If there really were a thousand no wonder the fairies could slip in there and grab her his lady was taken by fairies(3), King Orfeo (3) "For da king o Ferrie we his daert Has pierced your lady to da hert"* [Ferries being damn good shots and ever in need of extra women] all but died of grief. [snip] ------ * sounds like the rap version, doesn't it? ------- Ha! [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon or will serve as an LJ or Facebook cheerleader.] (Comment on this)
Monday, June 27th, 2011
7:56 pm	Report from Week 1 of the Clarion West Write-a-thon The first week of the workshop is always a struggle to find time to write, and yes this week was difficult. Especially the afternoon when I had three hours to work and promptly fell asleep, waking up just at the end of the time I had available. That was frustrating. However, I managed to make up the time and reach my minimum target of 7 hours unplugged and writing. In case you're wondering, I am revising my first novel yet again. This must be the last time or my head will explode. I keep revising it, and the problem is that every time I do I know I make it better. That makes it difficult to stop revising. I keep hoping I'll reach the point at which I know that I'm just making it a little different--or making it worse--so I can stop. This revision is to put the main point-of-view character's voice back in first person, as it was hundreds of revisions ago in its first incarnation that no one saw. It was the right mode, but the wrong time for it. Now I think I'm doing it right. So I'm doing that. I'm also evening out the pacing--looking to tighten where it needs it and give it a little more room when it needs it. When I cut out 33,000 words (after previously tightening out 20,000 words--yes this novel was once a monster) a couple of years ago, I created some problems that I never quite fixed right. So that's what I'm doing. Minimum 7 hours a week unplugged. Oh, and yes, the first draft of a poem (actually, this is the second because I kept working on it until very dark o'clock last night). It is still pretty first-drafty, but here it [at least the first stanza on LJ and Facebook] is for your perusal. I've been thinking about Neolithic cairns recently. Actually, I think about them a lot. Thanks so much for your support of me and of Clarion West! --Neile ---------- Cairn by Dark by Cairn Read the wall in the stones. Read their will. How the passage humbles you warns you what you must [The full text of the poem is available to anyone who sponsors me in the Clarion West Write-a-thon] or will serve as an LJ or Facebook cheerleader. (Comment on this)
Friday, June 17th, 2011
11:44 am	A new Clarion West adventure is about to begin The sorority house has been re-claimed for writers. A classroom set up, boxes of survival supplies moved in from storage, one instructor and two students have already arrived, two more students arrive today, and 14 on Saturday. On Sunday, registration, orientation, then Paul Park's superb disorientation will start taking 18 writers apart so they can put their words and worlds and themselves back together bigger, stronger, more ready to shake up the world. I attended the workshop myself in 1996 and have been an administrator since 2001, and still get butterflies in my stomach this time of year. I will be joining them in their journey both as a native guide and a fellow traveller--I'm doing the Clarion West Write-a-thon again, as is a marvellous array of both well-known and as-yet-undiscovered writers, which you--yes you--can sponsor on their six-week journey. Please consider it. Not only will you be giving a writer a good challenge (accountability is a wonderful motivator) but you will also be helping the independent nonprofit organization that makes this happen every year. Check out The Clarion West Write-a-thon, my page there or the San Diego Clarion's write-a-thon which starts a week after ours. (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 30th, 2011
9:11 pm	Les Semaines May 29, 2011: May is Slipping Away This May has been April-wet and changeable. We've raced through it, covered in cat hair and watching things bloom and get washed away in rain then shine in sun. Outside my study window right now the white lilac is in full bloom, bringing birds to nosh on the insects it attracts. I'm crazy busy. Went up to Victoria to see my parents, ever so briefly, last weekend. While Jim and I made this a four-day weekend by taking Friday off, it has been busy with writing, Clarion West prep, preparing for my last teaching session on Tuesday afternoon, etc. Basically, I've got a lot going on. Some of it just in my head. While I've loved teaching again, I've realized that it may be the one job too many. I often feel like I'm torn in many directions and this is one more. I have my day job at the UW, Clarion West, my writing (which I can subdivide into fiction and poetry, or subdivide into the actual writing and the work around the writing like grant applications and submissions) and then the teaching. The students have been asking if I'll do it again, as has the colleague who involved me in this in the first place. I'm not saying never, but next year's book is a trio of lectures by Richard Feynman, and I can't imagine myself using that as a text. So, we'll see. In the meantime, on with the last week of classes. Then exam week. Then break week. Then for the next six weeks I'm down to just two jobs: Clarion West and writing. Writing writing writing. For my listening, reading, and writing updates, see Les Semaines. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 2nd, 2011
8:55 pm	Mistressworks meme Here's my stab at the Ian Sales's "Mistressworks" Women in SF meme (via psamphire). The idea is to bold books you're read and italicize those you've got but haven't read. Here's my version of the list. I have also added asterisks (*) to the names of authors when I have read other, not the particular listed, books or works by the author. I'm a little disturbed at the number of authors I have never heard of before. 1 Frankenstein, Mary Shelley (1818) 2 Herland, Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1915) 3 Orlando, Virginia Woolf (1928) 4 Lest Ye Die, Cicely Hamilton (1928) 5 Swastika Night, Katherine Burdekin (1937) 6 Wrong Side of the Moon, Francis Leslie Ashton (1951) <- Not actually a woman... 7 The Sword of Rhiannon, Leigh Brackett (1953) 8 Pilgrimage: The Book of the People, Zenna Henderson (1961) 9 Memoirs of a Spacewoman, Naomi Mitchison* (1962) 10 Witch World, Andre Norton* (1963) 11 Sunburst, Phyllis Gotlieb (1964) 12 Jirel of Joiry, CL Moore (1969) 13 Heroes and Villains, Angela Carter (1969) 14 Ten Thousand Light Years From Home, James Tiptree Jr* (1973) 15 The Dispossessed, Ursula K Le Guin (1974) 16 Walk to the End of the World, Suzy McKee Charnas (1974) 17 The Female Man, Joanna Russ (1975) 18 Missing Man, Katherine MacLean (1975) 19 Arslan, MJ Engh (1976) 20 Floating Worlds, Cecelia Holland*(1976) 21 Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang, Kate Wilhelm (1976) 22 Islands, Marta Randall (1976) 23 Dreamsnake, Vonda N McIntyre (1978) 24 False Dawn, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro* (1978) 25 Shikasta [Canopus in Argos: Archives], Doris Lessing (1979) 26 Kindred, Octavia Butler (1979) 27 Benefits, Zoe Fairbairns (1979) 28 The Snow Queen, Joan D Vinge (1980) 29 The Silent City, Elisabeth Vonarburg (1981) 30 The Silver Metal Lover, Tanith Lee (1981) 31 The Many-Coloured Land [Saga of the Exiles], Julian May (1981) 32 Darkchild [Daughters of the Sunstone], Sydney J van Scyoc* (1982) 33 The Crystal Singer, Anne McCaffrey (1982) 34 Native Tongue, Suzette Haden Elgin (1984) 35 The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood (1985) 36 Jerusalem Fire, RM Meluch (1985) 37 Children of Anthi, Jay D Blakeney (1985) 38 The Dream Years, Lisa Goldstein (1985) 39 Despatches from the Frontiers of the Female Mind, Sarah Lefanu & Jen Green (1985) 40 Queen of the States, Josephine Saxton (1986) 41 The Wave and the Flame [Lear's Daughters], Marjorie Bradley Kellogg (1986) 42 The Journal of Nicholas the American, Leigh Kennedy (1986) 43 A Door into Ocean, Joan Slonczewski (1986) 44 Angel at Apogee, SN Lewitt (1987) 45 In Conquest Born, CS Friedman (1987) 46 Pennterra, Judith Moffett* (1987) 47 Kairos, Gwyneth Jones *(1988) 48 Cyteen, CJ Cherryh* (1988) 49 Unquenchable Fire, Rachel Pollack (1988) 50 The City, Not Long After, Pat Murphy (1988) 51 The Steerswoman [Steerswoman series], Rosemary Kirstein (1989) 52 The Third Eagle, RA MacAvoy* (1989) 53 Grass, Sheri S Tepper (1989) 54 Heritage of Flight, Susan Shwartz (1989) 55 Falcon, Emma Bull* (1989) 56 The Archivist, Gill Alderman (1989) 57 Winterlong [Winterlong trilogy], Elizabeth Hand (1990) 58 A Gift Upon the Shore, MK Wren (1990) 59 Red Spider, White Web, Misha (1990) 60 Polar City Blues, Katharine Kerr* (1990) 61 Body of Glass (AKA He, She and It), Marge Piercy (1991) 62 Sarah Canary, Karen Joy Fowler (1991) 63 Beggars in Spain [Sleepless trilogy], Nancy Kress (1991) 64 A Woman of the Iron People, Eleanor Arnason* (1991) 65 Hermetech, Storm Constantine* (1991) 66 China Mountain Zhang, Maureen F McHugh (1992) 67 Fools, Pat Cadigan (1992) 68 Correspondence, Sue Thomas (1992) 69 Lost Futures, Lisa Tuttle* (1992) 70 Doomsday Book, Connie Willis (1992) 71 Ammonite, Nicola Griffith (1993) 72 The Holder of the World, Bharati Mukherjee* (1993) 73 Queen City Jazz, Kathleen Ann Goonan (1994) 74 Happy Policeman, Patricia Anthony (1994) 75 Shadow Man, Melissa Scott* (1995) 76 Legacies, Alison Sinclair* (1995) 77 Primary Inversion [Skolian Saga], Catherine Asaro* (1995) 78 Alien Influences, Kristine Kathryn Rusch* (1995) 79 The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell (1996) 80 Memory [Vorkosigan series], Lois McMaster Bujold (1996) 81 Remnant Population, Elizabeth Moon* (1996) 82 Looking for the Mahdi, N Lee Wood (1996) 83 An Exchange of Hostages [Jurisdiction series], Susan R Matthews (1997) 84 Fool’s War, Sarah Zettel* (1997) 85 Black Wine, Candas Jane Dorsey (1997) 86 Halfway Human, Carolyn Ives Gilman (1998) 87 Vast, Linda Nagata* (1998) 88 Hand of Prophecy, Severna Park (1998) 89 Brown Girl in the Ring, Nalo Hopkinson (1998) 90 Dreaming in Smoke, Tricia Sullivan (1999) 91 Ash: A Secret History, Mary Gentle (2000) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 1st, 2011
10:38 pm	Les Semaines May 1, 2011: Hooray, Hooray, The First of May My mother taught me a rhyme about the first of May that I cannot repeat in polite company,1 but which I always think of all day on the first of May. Which might not be such a good idea when the day is accompanied by a board meeting, but so go the coincidences of timing. I think I managed not to embarrass myself. I waited until we were outside going to our cars to leave to quote the rhyme. Meanwhile, it has been a week. We have lost Joanna Russ. I only met her once, when we were helping a friend move into her house and I was tired and cranky and didn't want to explain who I was and I didn't have a clue who she was until well after I had been an idiot about who I was. However, I still wound up in an interesting conversation with her. I had read How To Suppress Women's Writing and A Female Man a few years before, and been bowled over and challenged and all. I wish I remembered more about that encounter, but it was in 1988 or so and I was lifting boxes at the time and I never did meet her again. A sad loss. Losing her and Diana Wynne Jones so close together. Ouch. On another topic, but still kind of book-related, when you look at my reading list you may wonder how I read so much. I *am* a fast reader and many of these books are on the shorter end of the book-length scale, but this is kind of crazy, is it not? How do I keep a busy life and still have time to read so much? The answer is that I have traded sleep for reading. Yes, I have now reached an Advanced Age (52) and like so many other Elders I am plagued by insomnia. It has slowly become a bigger and bigger thing, and grown very bad in the last year, especially. I do occasionally take melatonin and 2 X 4s to the head (just joking on the latter), but mostly--after lying in bed and reading long enough to be absolutely certain I'm not going to nod off--I just go someplace a little more comfortable (I don't like lying down so very much unless I am sleeping) and read until I am so tired that I can confidently crawl back to bed and trust sleep to take me. This means in my day-to-day life I frequently function on very little sleep. This is not doing my reputation for efficiency much good, but I think the honest truth is that I'd rather read than sleep. There. I've said it. Ever since I stopped remembering my dreams and started having to stick a machine on my face I have become less and less enamored of sleep--at least conventional, night-time and in-my-bed sleep. I still have a fondness for naps, but try not to allow them because they do interfere with proper sleep. Or so I'm told. Yes, I know I should sleep more and better and that there are things I could and should be doing. Like not letting myself get up to read (though I suspect the alternative might be violence) and not letting myself sleep in on weekends, which all the experts say helps set me up for a round of jet lag and such. But really, I love sitting up in the dark of night, cats asleep around me, Jim asleep downstairs, and reading a great book. Or even just a good one. I know it is a self-indulgence and very Bad For Me in many ways, but damn I love it. Now I'm going to be a good girl, take a melatonin because I not only slept late today but took a nap after the board meeting, and try to be good. Wish me luck. ----- For my current listening, reading, and writing updates, see Les Semaines. (5 Comments |Comment on this)