A gift horse can still bite off your fingers. 

I had been prepared to live locked in Edmonton snow until the end of April. Lions and lambs aside, woodchucks long gone, March is upon me, a week passing me by while I was still looking over my shoulder at February. 

Holy smokes! 

Forms to fill, deadlines to meet, the rush and thrum of blood’s constant flow. It’s a good time to start a new poem. Write the first paragraph of a new short story. Book projects are such long-term commitments…. Sometimes all I want is a kiss.

Like that.

I can say that I was primarily an intuitive writer for a bulk of  my writing career. This is the “discovery” method of writing. I have a premise or a character and I go forth, into the darkness, to see what there is to be discovered. A lot of writers talk about the pleasure of discovery through their process of writing. I think this is a hard-wired trait in our species. (A  trait that leads us into diverse regions thus spreading the gene pool, etc. Clearly there are issues of conquest and colonization that goes along with this trait!) Discovery, making connections I hadn’t foreseen, these things can send of frisson of creative delight rippling through my being.  

Lately I’ve been trying to develop at least a rough outline for my novel-length projects. Two reasons, both pragmatic. 

1) Unless you’re so well-established that a publisher will offer you a contract because you say, “Mmmm, I feel like there’s another book coming,” you need to have a synopsis and a hefty chunk of the writing-in-progress to submit to an agent or publisher in order to sell it before completion. 

2) Discovery is super cool, but it’s not all wild strawberries and beds of dark green moss. If a person is dropped into the middle of the forest and she has no idea where she should go, if she begins to walk and continues without any reference points she will inevitably end up walking in a giant circle. I think this experience can serve as a useful analogy of the unmapped writing process of a novel. If we have a sense of direction, or at least a notion of the end point we know which way to go. This is good. Also, the thing about the forest is that it’s not predictable. We might come to an unexpected mountain range, or a wide, swift impassable river. We know we are heading north, but we can’t go the way we planned. So, We need to be adaptive, and, also enjoy the discovery of the impassable moment, the new trail we must blaze to move toward our goal. See! Discovery and direction! Gooooood! ^__^ 

There’s no one way to writing a novel. Really, if it works for you, then it works!

Sometimes I think that I’ve figured something out about writing, and then the next time I write a novel it doesn’t work and I have to relearn how to write the novel once again. A new way. <shaking head> <shrug> 

Sometimes I just have to lie down on the springy moss, close my eyes and pray that the bears are too busy with Goldilocks to bother with me.

When people come in to see me with their project I try to offer feedback that will have them consider ways they might make their writing stronger. A significant number of people want to know where they should submit their work for publication. A legitimate question, I suppose, because if the writer comes in seeking a consultation, they are moving toward making their work enter the public space. 

It pains me when I have to say that I don’t think their writing is ready to be submitted for publication. I also think that the question of publication should come much later in a writer’s development, and should never pre-empt the question: What can I do to further develop my craft? 

There are many paths to becoming a published author. Workshops, writing groups, MFA programs, continuing education courses, correspondence courses, mentorships, independent study, etc…. Clearly, the developing writer’s goal to become a published author is reasonable and necessary. But if this goal becomes the primary objective it can impede that which would lead you to become a publishable writer in the first place– developing strong writing skills. 

I don’t want to be a downer…. But the reality is that there are soooo many writers in the world, and all of them are seeking publication. What will make your work stand out? 

The careful development of your own voice and style. Your unique way of seeing/thinking/dreaming successfully transformed into words on a page that will evoke/elicit in the reader that which you sought to evoke/elicit. Writing a line, crafting a sentence, building a scene, developing character, playing with language, handling plot, or getting rid of plot entirely, transporting the reader into a different place and time, taking an old story and shining it new…. 

It’s a long, long path with so much to observe and integrate. Sure, some hares are bound to win some races, but the tortoise will always outlast and endure. 

Develop your craft and all else will follow.

I was a bit nervous/anxious about the U of C reading for numerous complex reasons. But when I cranked up “Bat Out of Hell” and The Meat just filled the interior of my vehicle with his soaring voice and ki, my testosterone levels rose and endorphins kicked in and all was well. Thank you, Meatloaf!

The next morning I cranked up “All Of My Love” in the house, and danced what we called “the hangover” with my mum. This was how we danced in junior high. The guy latched onto the belt loops of the girl’s jeans, just at the waist, and the girl placed her hands on the boy’s shoulders. People who were going steady mashed up against each other. Other dance-couples could easily have a 12-inch space separating them. The ‘dance-steps’ are not unlike the steps a zombie would make, a kind of lurching side-to-side motion. 

In grade 7 I thought ‘necking’ meant people pressed their necks against each other. It did not compute what the erotics were of this particular act. 

The U of C reading was lovely and such a warm and generous audience. It was good to catch up with old friends. The U of C writer in residence, Marcello di Cintio, will be coming to Edmonton for his part of the exchange– watch for updates on his reading. 

I’ve not been writing 1000 words every day– at least not during these public presentation days. After the intense sessions at the Grant MacEwan writing conference this weekend (immediately following the trip to Calgary) I’m a pancake of exhaustion. My daughter called me a potato couch and we ordered pizza for dinner. 

It’s okay…. Listen to the body. Rest when it’s time to rest. Epsom salt baths– two cups of salt and a minimum of 12 minutes soaking.

I was thinking about the misfit toys because I just received notice that a grant application for a writing project was rejected. It’s a blow, both financially and psychologically, but it’s also part of the entire writing experience. Being a writer means also being able to hear and deal with professional rejection over and over again. For years and years! The trick is not to let these rejections reach your core self. Rejection of your short story, or poem or play or novel is not a rejection of your person. Your writing is not an extension of your self. (If it is, you’ve put yourself in a terribly vulnerable place…. Mind, I’m not certain how it works for non-fiction writers who place their experiences on the page for the world to see– but I suspect in the crafting of this narrative a kind of division occurs. Non-fiction writer, I’d love to year your take on this!)

Following a rejection moment (I mean writing-wise) I allow myself three days of sulking/sorrow/resentment/etc, max. But THAT’S IT. And, ultimately, even in the face of numerous rejections, if you believe in the project and it feels right, in your gut, this excitement and passion and conviction, no matter what careens and crashes around you, this project must be seen to fruition. It’s calling you. You must follow. The project itself becomes something separate from ego. A growing thing, a beautiful monster…. Yahhhhhh. Rawwwk awwwwn! 

Follow that feeling. Believe it. 

Of course it’s not all Rocky Balboa theme song…. There are Eeyore days and Piglet nights. But there you go. Deal or no deal. No one is forcing you (me) to write. <fierce grin>

End note: Partook of the last of the Raisinwich cookies with my daughter. We had it with lemon tea. Cranberry red in a pale green teacup. A perfect way to close the day. Three days not required. (~__~)

<SMILE> 

It took me until 3 PM today to fulfill the left-over Friday’s 500 words to meet that day’s 1000 word quota. Now, I still have to write today’s 1000…. Listen, it’s not a piece of cake. (What is a cake walk? What’s up with all the cake? Cake is not so easy, unless it’s that ‘crazy cake’ recipe that doesn’t require eggs or dairy, therefore kosher, and can be all mixed in one bowl.) 

I totally devolved today. I frittered time on the internet, rolled about on the carpet, did twenty mini crunches, listened to Rough Trade, ate a Raisinwich cookie (my Favourite!!!), disrupted my daughter who is studying for final exams, was delighted when my girlfriend phoned, thawed peasant soup (not made out of peasants), read about sundew plants, looked up the meaning of my girlfriend’s name, realized I’m going to Winnipeg day after tomorrow–not next week, tasted junior high school from a tin of chicken noodle soup, traded pens with my daughter, wondered if I have to share the last of the two Raisinwich cookies with my daughter or just eat them myself, looked up the meaning of prorogue, checked email certainly over twenty times, and, now, blogging, as I yank out one word at a time, build one phrase, construct one sentence, as painful as yanking teeth out of me head…. 

It’s gonna be a long night, dudes. 

(Did you know they’re doing a remake of Karate Kid???? Aiiiyaahhh….) 

Some days the words just so flow, like water, like a ribbon of glossolalia. 

Not today. 

Yup. Suckin’ it up.

Jan 27, 2010 University of Winnipeg. Errrrmmm, I don’t have the specific details handy. Please seek info through their English Department.

January 31, 2010 Edmonton Public Library reading series, “Writers’ Corner”, Stanley A. Milner Branch. 1:30 PM

February 4, 2010 @ my alma mater, the University of Calgary , 7:30 PM at the Nickle Arts Museum.

On writing project updates: I’m back on deadline mode. This means I commit to daily output. I’ve currently fixed it a 1000 words a day. Yesterday was Day One. Check. I have not yet  met today’s output requirements. I have until 12 AM. No problem-o. The rule is, if you don’t meet the quota, you have to add it to the following day’s output. These are hard rules, but in order to be a closer (someone who finishes books and sees them to publication) you have to commit, and you have to have discipline.

Wax on. Wax off.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

SPOILER ALERT: Clearly the ‘native’ girl Neytiri is meant to be a strong female character, but COME ON!!!! She sits BEHIND the white guy when he tames the special awesome pterodactyl? I also felt an intense pain when he flew in on the messiah beast and all the ‘natives’ were bowing to him, the chosen one, and he will bring all the tribes together to overthrow the colonialist oppressor because he’s the most ‘native’ of them all. Ohlordy, will the pain never end?

I loved the flying scenes, the pretty plant-like-coral-like ecosystem. Wondered about the doubling of like-animals…. I’m sure they hired evolutionary biologists, whatevers, to imagine what ‘animal’-life on an alien planet might be like. But there were so many earth-creature-likenesses. The nectar-licking six-legged ‘horses’. The pterodactyls. The flayed dogs. The flayed puma. The lumbering triceratops/ankylosaurus cross. Why does everything have to be so near to our known? It’s Hollywood! my daughter says, exasperated with my desire for something else. What do you expect? Truth be told, if it’s on an alien planet, I expect something alien…. 

I had the pleasure of watching the movie with my daughter and two of her friends (truly, the pleasure is all mine because my daughter finds me an insufferable film companion because I make noises of disgust, impatience, boredom, anger, etc. throughout, and I don’t blame her for her annoyance with me) and I could ask them questions afterward on what they thought about it. Both friends liked the film. When I asked them if they liked the romance aspect of it they said, yes. My daughter said it was predictable. Their feedback is interesting for me because I’ve been considering how to integrate aspects of romance and fun in one of my new book-length projects. Obviously my idea of ‘romance’ and ‘fun’ is not the same for my target audience. Soooo, the creative challenge is to create a sense of identifiable ‘fun’ and ‘romance’ without it falling into what I think is cliche. 

If my daughter’s peers think the romance in Avatar works, and I don’t, how do I write a romantic and fun book for teen-aged girls without 1) alienating my target audience and 2) not compromising my personal and creative politics? Tricky! Tricky! 

One of my sisters said she didn’t like to read books that were difficult or troubling or challenging because she read books to relax, not to think. I think a lot of folks (me included) read to be entertained (tho this need not be exclusive, either). If this is the primary drive, then it is not a stretch to imagine that this kind of reading would not appreciate feeling alienated from the text in any way. 

<grin> 

No simple answers.

Try! Try! my father always shouted enthusiastically and with vigour. 

End note: enjoyed this film a lot more than 2012. Pissy that they used a same-old cliche narrative.

     But this is not my main concern. What I wonder now is how the educational and cultural practice of pointing to learning and identifying (in a Western framework) “same” and “different” continues to fold into a inclusive/exclusive social practices. For instance, the song, “One of These Things is Not Like the Other”…. I’m not so sure that the cultural practice of identification on the basis of similarity and/or difference serves us (socially) well. If we consider race, gender, sexuality, ability, age, size, etc. these are all ‘categories’ that can be divided up on learned ideas of sameness and difference– but is this a socially generative practice?

     Certainly sameness and difference is the basis of taxonomy, for instance. I cannot argue that notions of sameness/difference does not have relevance and/or significance in decoding our world and experiences…. (If we cannot perceive the difference between a fire and a non-heat-generating light source we could be burned.) 

     But I wonder how we might think of the ways we teach “same” and “different”, especially to our young people… and, well, maybe do it a little differently. <crooked grin>

My father, who was called Tiger, was born in the Year of the Tiger. He died just over four years ago. I miss him, some days more than others…. Somehow the Tiger Year seems to cycle him closer to my heart. It feels lucky. Maybe a combination trick of sentimentality and superstition, but hey? Everything cannot be empirically measured.

I’ve been spending the holidays catching up with my son and girlfriend. Friends over for christmas dinner. Golden light misting Burnaby Lake. Sweet rich incense heavy in the dark wet air. The Buddhist temple aglow on New Year’s day…. My cells are soaking in the west coast moisture and begging me not to return to the winter desert.

So many people have travelled between home and the present perfect. The spirit has spirit lag when we return from the holidays to our work lives, our schedules and lists, agendas, and day-timers. Be gentle to tender spirit upon re-entry. The rest of the year may roar, but let’s start with a purr.