The Written Word

I've written a couple thousand letters in my life, and that's a conservative estimate. Add the other forms of written communication such as holiday cards, birthday cards, postcards, and emails, then the number is much higher. I get very few communications in return, so I freely admit I don't understand the compulsion. Sometimes I wonder if my family and friends considered me a letter-stalker all those years. I was especially prolific when I was living away from the U.S. being so terribly lonely each time that I wrote way too many letters to way too many people.

Now I subscribe to Letters in the Mail that's offered by The Rumpus. I get two letters a month, each time from a writer I've never heard of before. Then I go online and find out who the writer is, and I'm always impressed by their bio. The letters are a cheap thrill at $5.00 a month.

I save all of the letters I receive and have done so for years. I finally sorted them by writer. This letter-hoarding always seemed odd to me since everyone else I know tosses their letters into the trash after reading them. Still, I can't part with them. And people, including myself, don't write great epistolaries these days. There are tomes out there comprised of nothing but the letters of great writers. Have you read of Out of Africa? Isak Dinesen was a wonderful letter writer. Her letters are now a book called Letters From Africa: 1914 to 1941. My letters are nothing special. Just written down small talk.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit,
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

(Omar Khayyam)

In May, I received a Letter in the Mail from an author named Maud Newton. I hadn't remembered her name but I remember her story  titled When the Flock Changed that was published in Narrative Magazine. Her letter was about letters. I was really pleased to read, "I guess most writers like to hoard and revisit written communication. I know I do." Thank you for that, Maud.

Now I blog. It feels like a combination of letter writing, a journal entry, and a one-sided conversation. I like it. Feeds that need to reach out into the world I suppose.

Hello.

A Toasty Day Thinking About Creativity with Amy Tan

The plants outside have been well-watered this morning since they have to get through another day in the 90s.  It's going to cool off into the 80s this weekend, but we have a full slate of work to do at the other house. Manual labor. This labor will be the last big chunk of work before nudging the house into the marketplace.

Thursday is kind of a nowhere day for me. I love having the square on the calendar empty so I can clean up from days past, and prepare for the upcoming weekend. The job list is getting too long around here even though we all work every day. Must be like one of those Sedona energy vortexes, only in reverse...sucking the energy right out through the soles of my feet.

I am trying to do two things at once this morning. Actually three things if you count taking care of E, but taking care of her is just like an extension of caring for myself so I don't usually count it. I have my papers in order enough to do a rewrite on my beach story. Yesterday's rejection by Glimmer Train wasn't what I was hoping for but it does serve to motivate me a little bit. (and why would failure be a good thing? but somehow it is) And the second thing is to clean up the gigantic mess I've made in the parlor. Papers and detritus everywhere. The flotsam of a busy life.

It's already 78 degrees inside the sunroom and it's only 9:00 in the morning. I can usually cool off the house by opening doors and windows early in the day, then closing the blinds and doors to keep the heat out later. Not going to work today. Supposed to hit 98 again. Again. And again.

I was driving quite a bit yesterday so I tried to use my phone to listen to a TED talk by Amy Tan on creativity. I highly recommend this talk for writers and anyone interested in creativity. (should be just about every thinking soul on the planet) She's funny and smart and has some interesting stuff tossed into her talk.

<http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_tan_on_creativity.html>

I don't know if it's okay to put connections to other sites on a blog, but I really don't see why it wouldn't be okay.

Dream Ponies for the Birthday Girl!

The Challenge of Reading "House of Leaves"

My daughter-in-residence gave me a copy of House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski today. I was on Amazon.com earlier and consider ordering a copy off of my wish list, so her purchase (in a used bookstore) was fortuitous. The book appears just as daunting as it did the first time I borrowed a copy but never read it. I did what I usually do when facing something that stymies me. I went to Wikipedia. Here's the first thing I read.

Ergodic literature is a term coined by Espen J. Aarseth in his book Cybertext—Perspectives on Ergodic Literature, and is derived from the Greek words ergon, meaning "work", and hodos, meaning "path". Aarseth's book contains the most commonly cited definition:

In ergodic literature, nontrivial effort is required to allow the reader to traverse the text. If ergodic literature is to make sense as a concept, there must also be nonergodic literature, where the effort to traverse the text is trivial, with no extranoematic responsibilities placed on the reader except (for example) eye movement and the periodic or arbitrary turning of pages.

I happen to be a big fan of having no extranoematic responsiblities while reading. I excel at the trivial effort of eye movement while reading, and do a great job of the periodic and arbitrary turning of pages while reading. ( I'm not used to bragging so I'm blushing.)

I hope an occasion arises, sometime soon, for me to throw around the term "Ergodic literature" at my writing group. They'll think I'm just making shit up.

Barr Lake, Colorado

It's the Little Things in a Day that Matter

I went to coffee in Niwot on Monday, expecting to meet a friend. We were planning to do some actual writing but, alas, my friend lost her calendar and didn't show up. (she did call when she remembered) I had a pleasant coffee and did some writing on my own, then headed home.

There's a little dirt road that runs between The Diagonal and 95th. I've never driven down it so that's the way I headed home. Lovely area. I felt like I was in the middle of the countryside instead of next to a small city. The homes all had acreage so they were spread out a bit. I was driving on a dirt and gravel road. My approach was not a quiet one. As I approached the last home, I realized I had surprised a naked man in his front yard.

He was startled, but was too far from his front door to escape so he turned and slowly walked away from my eyes. This was no Adonis. He was probably in his 60's, with a very large belly and thin legs. Judging from the expanse of very white skin, I'd have to conclude that he was not a practicing naturist. The only thing that could have made this more entertaining was if he'd been wearing black socks and dress shoes.

Black Forest Burns

We aren't going to break any records for heat today thanks to the cloud cover that comes and goes. It's been fairly pleasant overall.

Today is my youngest child's 30th birthday. A house exploded in her neighborhood today because of a natural gas leak. This could be the universe being symbolic since she works for a company that gathers, processes, and transports natural gas. (gathers?) It would appear no lives were lost in the explosion, which is something to be grateful for.

Youngest child is pregnant so I was perusing maternity items for a birthday gift. I came across this:

"High End Baby Shield Maternity Camisole With Radiation Shield: 500 Hz to 12 GHz Frequency."
This can be yours, in silver of course, for a mere $162.87. I also wondered about the 87 cents part. Why not go wild and bump the price up to an entire $163?

Have we gone mad? If this is the type of thing you truly believe is necessary to protect your fetus, wouldn't you maybe take a giant leap and decide to eschew products that emit radiation? I don't know what you'll do about the sun, though. Buy a property with deep caverns? Put foil on all of your hats?

From one day to the next, the Black Forest Fire has become Colorado's most destructive fire. At least 360 homes have already been destroyed. It's hard for me to believe we've surpassed the catastrophic destruction of last year's fires. It's time for people to start taking fire mitigation seriously. Some of these homes had dry pine needles right up to the house, and inflammable roofs, decks, and sidings. However, I do understand why they are so reluctant to tamper with the natural beauty around Black Forest. It was a glowing example of one of my favorite ecosystems.

Black Forest is in a Montane Forest zone. Lots of pine trees, especially ponderosa pines, on the lower south-facing slopes, and Douglas firs on the northern exposures. It's the grasses, shrubs and wildflowers among the trees that make this ecosystem so attractive. Lots of wildlife. It's naturally hot and dry in the summer, but this fire was intensified by the ongoing drought and the beetle-killed trees.

Springtime in the Rockies

The temperature hit 100 degrees yesterday. It's the earliest 100 degree day on record. Along with the oppressive heat, fires started burning. As I look outside at the beautiful morning and clean air, it's hard to believe the Black Forest Fire is out of control, with 40 to 60 homes gone. Heat and wind seem to go together in our state. This is the first time a prison in Colorado has had to be evacuated. 900 prisoners on the move.

The writing group met last night. Small turnout but that's a typical for summer. Luckily, we had three strong submissions to critique. We had time to discuss what we each would consider to be an ideal size for the group. I think we agreed that 10 to 12 members would probably give us an average of 8 people to critique at each meeting. Bringing in new people has become a tedious sort of marketing on my part.
It's a good group that does a good job. Some groups around here charge writers to attend.

After not writing for several days, it's hard to get started today. Waking up before 5:00 (AM!) didn't help a bit. I'd like to start a morning group of people who want to do some actual writing, maybe in the form of writing exercises. It's always a good idea to work on craft. Meeting more people who write is an additional bonus.

Babies, Bugaboos, Bravery, and Beyond

So many progeny are making the scene in our family. Sweet Oscar, in California, is handsome and destined to do great things. I can tell by the look in his eyes, and it helps to have Anna as a mother. We don't hear much from the family tree branch in Australia, but I believe they're doing well. Our youngest daughter, who is due around Thanksgiving, is experiencing tiredness because she is carrying yet another dynamic, energetic member of our clan. Her amazing energy is being diverted to the one who is growing and changing every day. Think of all the extra birthday gifts this baby will receive from our out-of-town turkey day guests. And speaking of birthdays, one of our sweet pea granddaughters in Seattle is about to complete her first trip around the sun. (Montessori schools have a wonderful birthday ritual with a model of the earth at the center of a group of children. The child having the birthday gets to hold a real candle (fire! awesome!) and walks solemnly around the sun as the months are chanted. (at least that's how we did it at Carquinez Montessori)

Bugaboos are when tests give false positives and cause anxiety to swirl around our heads. Bravery conquers our fears and all is well, one way or another. It reminds me that there is a multitude of awfulness that can land on our heads and our hearts at any time, but we keep going because there is no other course we can follow. The future is always there to walk toward. Wear some steel-toed boots and kick the bugaboos the hell out of your way.

A Dream of Order Out of Chaos

The little maker of chaos just went off to go swimming at the rec center, so I ran upstairs to do a couple of things on my to-do list that were impossible to do with her underfoot. We have clothes that need to be sorted out. Some can be kept but most are destined for the Goodwill bag. I made good progress in a short amount of time, driven by the desperate need to actually finish something that I started.

Now....multiply this desperation by 4, 5, or 6 times. Think of the anxiety that the endless list of things to do creates. But I've been a compulsive maker of lists for my entire adult life. (adult refers to 18 and older, not necessarily any actual maturity on my part) I have the yard list. The home repair list. The home wish list with things like a whirlpool tub and gas stove on it. There's the self improvement list. The reading list. The travel and family visit list. The freaking health maintenance list. (glasses, skin that's been exposed to too much sun, teeth, various cancers, and a few I can't bear to write down) The list with things on it that I think will enhance my old age, whose hoofbeats I can already hear approaching.

Then there's that nagging daily bugaboo list: writing goals. I hear the ghosts in my head whispering, "Finish the damn book so we can get the hell out of your list-cluttered brain!"

But I have a bag of stuff for Goodwill and that's progress.

A vulture. Not a crow.

In a Mood on Monday

Today is going to be one of our hottest days of the year so far, according to the news. 92 degrees. Some cloud cover would be helpful.

I didn't get as much done this past weekend as I had hoped. Just hit the wall. In the evening, I worked in the yard trying to clear an area that's solid bindweed, but ended up spending more time socializing with the neighbors than pulling weeds. It's good to know your neighbors and I like almost all of them.

I made some writing resolutions on New Year's Eve and have been meeting some of my goals. I'm submitting my work steadily. A blog I read has a good post about moving your resolution-making to another time of year, like September, or your birthday. I briefly considered doing this, but soon realized I'm too attached to my New Year's Eve ritual.

If I had some wall space by my desk, I'd tape up motivational and guilt-inducing quotes to spur on my writing. But it's Monday, I'm discombobulated, and in a mood that could easily tip into wonky if I'm not careful. The gardening, which is more yard work agony at this point, is a kind of meditation. Takes my mind off of everything else. I remember how much I need to be outdoors in order to be fully human.

Practicalities must be dealt with today. Errands done, food hunted down and/or gathered. This would be so much more enjoyable if the farm markets were open. I'm going to make revisions on my current project this afternoon. If I fail to do this, I will punish myself for eating only healthy food for 48 hours.

Bildungsroman: Cool Word or Something I Made Up?

I came across a word today that knocked my imaginary socks off:  Bildungsroman!  I immediately had to look it up in the dictionary to see if I was being pranked.

I wasn't.

It's a noun. The definition is as follows: "A novel dealing with one person's formative years or spiritual education."

I kid you not. How could I have not known this awesome word existed before this gloomy Saturday morning?

Now I want to be invited to a cocktail party so that I can casually say, "I'm writing a Bildungsroman. Can you dig it?" (It would sound much cooler if I was loaded on gin.)