With a name like that, how can you not love it?
The Worst Day of the Year Ride is planned for mid-February, and is the earliest entry in what's shaping up to be my yearly biking calendar. It's a testament to Portland's wackiness not only that people would get out in such a cold, rainy month, but that many do so in full costume. This year's favorite was a family of four, two adults, two trail-a-bikes, all in full body felted dinosaur costumes, complete with spiky helmet covers.
I haven't dressed up, but I've ridden the 45-mile challenge course twice now. Both times, contrary to the name, the weather has been spectacular--cool but dry, bright winter sunshine.
The long route goes from downtown, up over Washington Park, out into Beaverton (around Rock Creek), before doubling back along Germantown Road (with a significant dip down Old Germantown Road for extra hilliness). After climbing, you get to zip down Germantown (brakes please!), cross over the St. Johns Bridge and then mosey back into town.
The first year the hills were pretty rough, especially up through Washington Park. Apparently my base fitness has improved though, since this last weekend it got me sweating, but wasn't the struggle I remembered.
There is a shorter, urban course (around 15 miles or so), part of which overlaps with the challenge course. They stagger it, letting the challenge riders go early, but everyone ends the ride together. Surprisingly, I didn't find the shared part of the course to be unduly congested, and it didn't much impact my overall average speed.
There's a lot of support, especially on the urban segments. Tasty soup is served at the end, although the portions aren't huge and the beer from Lucky Lab is an extra charge.
Overall, highly recommended. If you want an organized ride before spring's even arrived, well, you don't have many other options do you?
The Numbers: 2012, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Riding Away
In the time since I last blogged, a lot has happened. Another big item on the list is that I started biking.
I've never been much of a fitness person, but this change had its roots in our family bikes. We purchased family bikes in the summer of 2010 to help us keep healthy and get out in the evenings. Unfortunately, the first few rides threw Amber's back out. My inner cheapness came to the fore then, as I looked at the bikes waiting there, unused. I decided I'd cycle to work, at least a few times, so they wouldn't just be stalled on the porch.
I fell in love.
Since then time, I've traded in my lovely 7-speed hybrid for a full road bike (thanks Andrew!), wrote a website for tracking my stats, started obsessing over my Strava segments, and ridden over 5000 miles.
Along the way, I started to participate in longer organized rides. With that in mind I'm going to start jotting down my thoughts on the events, in large part to keep track of things myself, but maybe someone else will get useful ideas about rides to join in on around the Portland area.
I've never been much of a fitness person, but this change had its roots in our family bikes. We purchased family bikes in the summer of 2010 to help us keep healthy and get out in the evenings. Unfortunately, the first few rides threw Amber's back out. My inner cheapness came to the fore then, as I looked at the bikes waiting there, unused. I decided I'd cycle to work, at least a few times, so they wouldn't just be stalled on the porch.
I fell in love.
Since then time, I've traded in my lovely 7-speed hybrid for a full road bike (thanks Andrew!), wrote a website for tracking my stats, started obsessing over my Strava segments, and ridden over 5000 miles.
Along the way, I started to participate in longer organized rides. With that in mind I'm going to start jotting down my thoughts on the events, in large part to keep track of things myself, but maybe someone else will get useful ideas about rides to join in on around the Portland area.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Authors: J.D. Salinger
Among the goals of my summer non-genre reading list was covering works that many people read in high school or college that have slipped past me. A top entry on the list was The Catcher in the Rye, that canonical volume for high school novel classes everywhere.
Mentioning this to some good friends while I waited my hold on Catcher at the library, they loaned me Franny and Zooey, which I added to the pile. A short book, I opened it with little notion what type of author Salinger was, why he was well known, what to expect in the least.
Turns out Franny and Zooey was a slightly odd place to start. In many ways it draws on characters Salinger developed elsewhere (specifically Nine Stories). As I read I kept feeling I was supposed to already know bits of back-story, or at least have passing familiarity with events in the life of the Glass family.
The style--much as I would later find with Catcher--was conversational. His narration flows over you. Franny and Zooey especially resembled eavesdropped on an extended conversation. Salinger's ability to capture dialog, and even to make a long debate over religion and philosophy engaging, seems a key to why he retains his reputation so long after he's stopped publishing.
I'm not sure exactly what I expected of The Catcher in the Rye. Much like Franny and Zooey it portrayed an East Coast world of private schools and city life very different from my own experience. The world-weary jadedness of the youths both books strikes a chord, but also evoked sadness for me. So much discontent and isolation coursed through those the books.
Again, the tight description, dialog laced with implications and relationship dragged me along. I read Catcher in a day (at the excellent recommendation of my good friend Brian), and it wasn't tough to do.
Both Franny and Zooey and Catcher obsess over authenticity. Catcher in particular reverberated with Holden looking down on others who he viewed as phonies. However, the view-points of characters in both books seemed equally as "inauthentic" in how they demeaned those around them, in how they set themselves apart and judged. Catcher left me wondering how sad of a life it must be to live so constantly concerned about everyone else's authenticity that you miss tending to your own.
All in all, I like Salinger's style, and I will probably read his other books at some point. But for now, I'm glad to move onto something a little less self-conscious.
Mentioning this to some good friends while I waited my hold on Catcher at the library, they loaned me Franny and Zooey, which I added to the pile. A short book, I opened it with little notion what type of author Salinger was, why he was well known, what to expect in the least.
Turns out Franny and Zooey was a slightly odd place to start. In many ways it draws on characters Salinger developed elsewhere (specifically Nine Stories). As I read I kept feeling I was supposed to already know bits of back-story, or at least have passing familiarity with events in the life of the Glass family.
The style--much as I would later find with Catcher--was conversational. His narration flows over you. Franny and Zooey especially resembled eavesdropped on an extended conversation. Salinger's ability to capture dialog, and even to make a long debate over religion and philosophy engaging, seems a key to why he retains his reputation so long after he's stopped publishing.
I'm not sure exactly what I expected of The Catcher in the Rye. Much like Franny and Zooey it portrayed an East Coast world of private schools and city life very different from my own experience. The world-weary jadedness of the youths both books strikes a chord, but also evoked sadness for me. So much discontent and isolation coursed through those the books.
Again, the tight description, dialog laced with implications and relationship dragged me along. I read Catcher in a day (at the excellent recommendation of my good friend Brian), and it wasn't tough to do.
Both Franny and Zooey and Catcher obsess over authenticity. Catcher in particular reverberated with Holden looking down on others who he viewed as phonies. However, the view-points of characters in both books seemed equally as "inauthentic" in how they demeaned those around them, in how they set themselves apart and judged. Catcher left me wondering how sad of a life it must be to live so constantly concerned about everyone else's authenticity that you miss tending to your own.
All in all, I like Salinger's style, and I will probably read his other books at some point. But for now, I'm glad to move onto something a little less self-conscious.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Books: Love Medicine
Yet another recommendation came to me from my good friend Nate. Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich is a story about family, about Native American life on the reservation, about accepting those aspects of life we can't change and shouldering on through.
The book is structured more as a series interconnected of short stories rather than a novel with a small number of viewpoints. Many different characters get their point-of-view story throughout, and we see a broad swath of history through the lives of a couple different Chippewa families living in North Dakota.
A large part of the book centers on a love triangle between the characters Marie, Nector and Lulu. We see these characters from their teenage years falling in love, through to life in a retirement home, with all the difficultly and strife between. Along the way Erdrich gives us glimpses many other branches and tributaries of these Chippewa families, building for the reader a strong sense of the broader reservation community.
Erdrich's prose is incredibly lush and descriptive. Reading a bit about her, I wasn't surprised to find her background is in poetry. There is a lyrical sense to the book that verges on poetic. It is also a very conversational, hearkening back to the oral storytelling of Native American culture. That richness of imagery often contrasts with the world she's describing--the bleak, forsaken backwaters of North Dakota that the Chippewa are increasingly forced to by the government, away from their remembered homelands.
Yet again, I wouldn't have typically picked this book up on my own, but I'm extremely glad to have read it. Erdrich's going on my "to-read-all-of" list for sure.
The book is structured more as a series interconnected of short stories rather than a novel with a small number of viewpoints. Many different characters get their point-of-view story throughout, and we see a broad swath of history through the lives of a couple different Chippewa families living in North Dakota.
A large part of the book centers on a love triangle between the characters Marie, Nector and Lulu. We see these characters from their teenage years falling in love, through to life in a retirement home, with all the difficultly and strife between. Along the way Erdrich gives us glimpses many other branches and tributaries of these Chippewa families, building for the reader a strong sense of the broader reservation community.
Erdrich's prose is incredibly lush and descriptive. Reading a bit about her, I wasn't surprised to find her background is in poetry. There is a lyrical sense to the book that verges on poetic. It is also a very conversational, hearkening back to the oral storytelling of Native American culture. That richness of imagery often contrasts with the world she's describing--the bleak, forsaken backwaters of North Dakota that the Chippewa are increasingly forced to by the government, away from their remembered homelands.
Yet again, I wouldn't have typically picked this book up on my own, but I'm extremely glad to have read it. Erdrich's going on my "to-read-all-of" list for sure.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Books: Ballistics
Ballistics by Billy Collins qualifies so far as the greatest departure from my normal reading. It's a poetry book. And I enjoyed it. Weird...
I haven't read any poetry since high school except the odd scrap in fantasy anthologies, and a couple by the esteemed Neil Gaiman. I think poetry has always baffled me. Most of the older material from school required effort to unpack and understand. You didn't read a poem, you analyzed it. While I enjoy reading that requires attention and mindfulness, those experiences were too much even for me.
But Collins has opened my eyes to the possibilities of poetry. His language, wit, and insight make it a pleasure to simply read.
Another big issue with poetry revolves around the subject matter--what's a poem about? There's a lot of history that makes me at least assume poetry must be about something deep and serious--the purpose of life, love and death. But Collins writes on all sorts of things, and even when he writes about those more "traditional" poetry topics, it's rarely what I expect.
Poetry itself is a common focus in what I've read from Collins so far. It's fascinating to read poems like "The Poems of Others," "January in Paris," "The Great American Poem," and "Ballistics" weighing in on the form itself (from "The Great American Poem"):
Often his language is starkly beautiful, lush without being too flowery, perfectly balanced (from "The First Night"):
But most of all I love his wit and playfulness. From "Adage" where he sculpts poetry from the cliched phrases, to "Tension" where he skewers the overuse of the adverb "suddenly," when Collins wants to be funny he's hilarious. This leads up to one of my favorite poems in the whole book "This Little Piggy Went to Market":
His mock seriousness as he dissects the famous children's rhyme had me in stitches, and made a fan of me if I wasn't already by that point in the book.
Ballistics is highly recommended. If you don't like poetry, haven't ever read it, don't know what it's about, give this book a try. You won't regret it.
I haven't read any poetry since high school except the odd scrap in fantasy anthologies, and a couple by the esteemed Neil Gaiman. I think poetry has always baffled me. Most of the older material from school required effort to unpack and understand. You didn't read a poem, you analyzed it. While I enjoy reading that requires attention and mindfulness, those experiences were too much even for me.
But Collins has opened my eyes to the possibilities of poetry. His language, wit, and insight make it a pleasure to simply read.
Another big issue with poetry revolves around the subject matter--what's a poem about? There's a lot of history that makes me at least assume poetry must be about something deep and serious--the purpose of life, love and death. But Collins writes on all sorts of things, and even when he writes about those more "traditional" poetry topics, it's rarely what I expect.
Poetry itself is a common focus in what I've read from Collins so far. It's fascinating to read poems like "The Poems of Others," "January in Paris," "The Great American Poem," and "Ballistics" weighing in on the form itself (from "The Great American Poem"):
But this is a poem, not a novel,His eye toward poetry has its lighter moments too (from "The Effort"):
and the only characters here are you and I,
alone in an imaginary room
which will disappear after a few more lines
Would anyone care to join me
in flicking a few pebbles in the direction
of teachers who are fond of asking the question:
"What is the poet trying to say?"
as if Thomas Hardy and Emily Dickinson
had struggled but ultimately failed in their efforts--
inarticulate wretches that they were,
biting their pens and staring out the window for a clue.
Yes, it seems that Whitman, Amy Lowell
and the rest could only try and fail,
but we in Mrs. Parker's third-period English class
here at Springfield High will succeed
Often his language is starkly beautiful, lush without being too flowery, perfectly balanced (from "The First Night"):
This is where language will stop,
the horse we have ridden all our lives
rearing up at the edge of a dizzying cliff.
But most of all I love his wit and playfulness. From "Adage" where he sculpts poetry from the cliched phrases, to "Tension" where he skewers the overuse of the adverb "suddenly," when Collins wants to be funny he's hilarious. This leads up to one of my favorite poems in the whole book "This Little Piggy Went to Market":
What always stopped me in my tracks was
the middle toe--this little piggy ate roast beef.
I mean I enjoy a roast beef sandwich
with lettuce and tomato and a dollop of horseradish,
but I cannot see a pig ordering that in a delicatessen.
His mock seriousness as he dissects the famous children's rhyme had me in stitches, and made a fan of me if I wasn't already by that point in the book.
Ballistics is highly recommended. If you don't like poetry, haven't ever read it, don't know what it's about, give this book a try. You won't regret it.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Books: All the Pretty Horses
From my good friend Nate, I got a recommendation to read All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy. I've had intentions to read The Road by McCarthy, but I was only passingly aware of his prior work. Since The Road was 1) post-apocalyptic and 2) already on my list, I decided to give Nate's suggestion a try.
I am so glad I did. This has got to be one of the strongest books I've ever read in the construction of the language. It's set in the 1940's west, from Texas down into Mexico, and McCarthy paints such effective pictures of the stark, beautiful terrain. His wording is often short and simple, not flowery, but he strings them together into these long, loping sentences that carry you on and on. The economy of the language fits perfectly both with the physical surroundings and with the main characters--tough young men looking for ranching work.
The story is tightly built as well, with nothing wasted in it. It's an interesting read for me as a writer because much of the plot isn't at all surprising. In the hands of a less remarkable writer, it would even be cliched, telegraphed from miles off. But even though you know where elements are headed--a character from the first half will cause trouble later, things will sour in the seemingly good place they land--that knowledge doesn't get in the way of the story.
McCarthy is now firmly on my "read-everything-by-him" list, although I will hold off until the non-genre summer is passed to make room for other discoveries. If you have a book you're dying to have someone read, the one thing you'd recommend to anyone, lay it on me!
I am so glad I did. This has got to be one of the strongest books I've ever read in the construction of the language. It's set in the 1940's west, from Texas down into Mexico, and McCarthy paints such effective pictures of the stark, beautiful terrain. His wording is often short and simple, not flowery, but he strings them together into these long, loping sentences that carry you on and on. The economy of the language fits perfectly both with the physical surroundings and with the main characters--tough young men looking for ranching work.
The story is tightly built as well, with nothing wasted in it. It's an interesting read for me as a writer because much of the plot isn't at all surprising. In the hands of a less remarkable writer, it would even be cliched, telegraphed from miles off. But even though you know where elements are headed--a character from the first half will cause trouble later, things will sour in the seemingly good place they land--that knowledge doesn't get in the way of the story.
McCarthy is now firmly on my "read-everything-by-him" list, although I will hold off until the non-genre summer is passed to make room for other discoveries. If you have a book you're dying to have someone read, the one thing you'd recommend to anyone, lay it on me!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Books: The Circumnavigators
With this summer's plan to read books outside my normal lists, I've decided to occasionally post some thoughts about what I'm reading as well. Per the advice of the excellent Justine Larbalestier, I'll only be writing the nice things--there's just no upside in ripping something I didn't happen to enjoy.
On that note, the first major book I've tackled was The Circumnavigators by Derek Wilson. As a pure history book--not even historical fiction--I probably never would have picked this up. While my appreciation of history has been growing, it's still difficult to locate books that aren't too dry and academic.
My friend Nathan put me onto The Circumnavigators, though, and this is definitely not one of those history books. The tales of how humanity learned to sail around the globe are varied and engaging. The book is packed with interesting details about the passages around the world. For instance, I never knew that if Magellan hadn't been killed in the South Pacific, they would likely never have continued on westward to complete the first circuit of the globe. Nor would I have believed a story in which crews of hundreds set off, but as few as seventeen men returned. However all of these things actually happened, and Wilson captures them in stunning detail.
If you have any interest in history or enjoy a good maritime tale, I'd definitely recommend The Circumnavigators.
On that note, the first major book I've tackled was The Circumnavigators by Derek Wilson. As a pure history book--not even historical fiction--I probably never would have picked this up. While my appreciation of history has been growing, it's still difficult to locate books that aren't too dry and academic.
My friend Nathan put me onto The Circumnavigators, though, and this is definitely not one of those history books. The tales of how humanity learned to sail around the globe are varied and engaging. The book is packed with interesting details about the passages around the world. For instance, I never knew that if Magellan hadn't been killed in the South Pacific, they would likely never have continued on westward to complete the first circuit of the globe. Nor would I have believed a story in which crews of hundreds set off, but as few as seventeen men returned. However all of these things actually happened, and Wilson captures them in stunning detail.
If you have any interest in history or enjoy a good maritime tale, I'd definitely recommend The Circumnavigators.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Non-Genre Summer Spectacular!
I love science fiction and fantasy. I grew up reading them, and they still have a lock on my attention and taste. There's nothing better than digging into a book that creates a world unlike our own.
Not to say that's all I read, but at times the genre dominates my reading list a bit too much. I know there's tons of other good stuff out there that I haven't given the time to find. To remedy the situation, I'm declaring this Jason's Non-Genre Summer Spectacular! (well, maybe that overstates it, but there you go.)
For the next three months, I will eschew science fiction, fantasy, mystery, westerns, horror... Non-fiction, literary or mainstream all the way! Classics or contemporary, as long as it doesn't have a rocket-ship on the cove it's all good.
If you have suggestions, drop a comment. What books have impressed, moved, dazzled or otherwise changed your life that I ought to read? Don't know how many I'll get to, but I'll keep on updating my reading list as I head on into non-speculative territory.
Not to say that's all I read, but at times the genre dominates my reading list a bit too much. I know there's tons of other good stuff out there that I haven't given the time to find. To remedy the situation, I'm declaring this Jason's Non-Genre Summer Spectacular! (well, maybe that overstates it, but there you go.)
For the next three months, I will eschew science fiction, fantasy, mystery, westerns, horror... Non-fiction, literary or mainstream all the way! Classics or contemporary, as long as it doesn't have a rocket-ship on the cove it's all good.
If you have suggestions, drop a comment. What books have impressed, moved, dazzled or otherwise changed your life that I ought to read? Don't know how many I'll get to, but I'll keep on updating my reading list as I head on into non-speculative territory.
One more rough draft in the bag
It's done!
Well, the rough draft of the new novel anyway. I've been working in fits and starts (for various reasons) since last February, and finally it's sitting happily on my hard drive in its entirety (and on the backup drive, and the online backup, and the backup backup FTP site). Just getting it typed up has taken a couple months since concerted computer time is sometimes harder to come by than time with a notebook at the table.
So how did it go? It's been long enough since I completed any other rough draft, I honestly can't compare much. In all that editing between I must have mistakenly deleted those rough draft completion scenes. Hmmm.
But I do feel like this draft gives me a lot to work with. I'm feeling solid on the plot, and have gotten to know the characters much better than has happened in previous books. All the time I spent outlining and thoughtfully laying out the chapters--both up front and as I went along--paid off.
But by the time I hit the last third, I also knew massive revisions will be in the works. The first big target is the world-building. The world in my head is strange, the magic elements pervasive throughout the everyday lives of the characters. On the page, it's ended up much more sedate, so I'm going to have to fix that. Not sure how yet, but unless the world in the book takes on a lot more texture, it won't possibly fly.
For all my friends reading the blog (hi you two!) the real question is, "Can I read it?" The unfortunate answer is "No." I'm normally not shy about spreading my work, but things are still too undone. I'd end up with lots of comments about the gaps I'm already painfully aware of. I'd rather hear what folks think when I've got something I'm happy with on the table.
Next up is letting it marinate for a couple months. I'm going to get some short fiction down on paper, not least to shake loose the book from my brain. I'll pick it up again after my birthday in September, and we'll see where it goes from there.
Well, the rough draft of the new novel anyway. I've been working in fits and starts (for various reasons) since last February, and finally it's sitting happily on my hard drive in its entirety (and on the backup drive, and the online backup, and the backup backup FTP site). Just getting it typed up has taken a couple months since concerted computer time is sometimes harder to come by than time with a notebook at the table.
So how did it go? It's been long enough since I completed any other rough draft, I honestly can't compare much. In all that editing between I must have mistakenly deleted those rough draft completion scenes. Hmmm.
But I do feel like this draft gives me a lot to work with. I'm feeling solid on the plot, and have gotten to know the characters much better than has happened in previous books. All the time I spent outlining and thoughtfully laying out the chapters--both up front and as I went along--paid off.
But by the time I hit the last third, I also knew massive revisions will be in the works. The first big target is the world-building. The world in my head is strange, the magic elements pervasive throughout the everyday lives of the characters. On the page, it's ended up much more sedate, so I'm going to have to fix that. Not sure how yet, but unless the world in the book takes on a lot more texture, it won't possibly fly.
For all my friends reading the blog (hi you two!) the real question is, "Can I read it?" The unfortunate answer is "No." I'm normally not shy about spreading my work, but things are still too undone. I'd end up with lots of comments about the gaps I'm already painfully aware of. I'd rather hear what folks think when I've got something I'm happy with on the table.
Next up is letting it marinate for a couple months. I'm going to get some short fiction down on paper, not least to shake loose the book from my brain. I'll pick it up again after my birthday in September, and we'll see where it goes from there.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Finishing is hard
With the recent time alone and many snatched moments here and there, I'm drawing into the last couple rough draft chapters of the new book. This is fantastic, since I wasn't expecting to get this much done in the first year of our beautiful daughter's life.
It's weird, though, because as I conclude each of the three POV characters' chapters, I'm feeling a bit of hesitation that I doffed a long time ago in the book. I realized earlier that if I agonize about getting everything "right," I'll never get it done and it still won't be perfect. Since then I have managed to put aside concerns about the quality of the rough draft in favor of getting it done.
But oddly these last few chapters there's that sneaking sense that I need to nail it. Which is strange, since endings are among the harder parts to get right. Beginnings may be the only harder thing. That and middles. Well, I guess it's all hard and expecting anything to drip flawless from my pen is unreasonable.
Besides, it's not as if anyone will see this first handwritten scribble anyway. There's a full round of typing and polishing between me and anyone having the chance to critique. So why am I worrying when I should be writing? Why am I not writing now? Oh right, because it's time for bed.
It's weird, though, because as I conclude each of the three POV characters' chapters, I'm feeling a bit of hesitation that I doffed a long time ago in the book. I realized earlier that if I agonize about getting everything "right," I'll never get it done and it still won't be perfect. Since then I have managed to put aside concerns about the quality of the rough draft in favor of getting it done.
But oddly these last few chapters there's that sneaking sense that I need to nail it. Which is strange, since endings are among the harder parts to get right. Beginnings may be the only harder thing. That and middles. Well, I guess it's all hard and expecting anything to drip flawless from my pen is unreasonable.
Besides, it's not as if anyone will see this first handwritten scribble anyway. There's a full round of typing and polishing between me and anyone having the chance to critique. So why am I worrying when I should be writing? Why am I not writing now? Oh right, because it's time for bed.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Happy Pi Day!
For the mathematically inclined and other varieties of nerds, dorks and geeks, happy Pi day!
It's a year old, but I realized I never posted the surprise that Amber gave me last Pi day. So here it is for all to enjoy... the Pi pie.
It was rhubarb, and ultra delicious, as always. If we can get the gumption up, this year is looking like a nice apple + blackberry.
Who says math isn't tasty?
It's a year old, but I realized I never posted the surprise that Amber gave me last Pi day. So here it is for all to enjoy... the Pi pie.
It was rhubarb, and ultra delicious, as always. If we can get the gumption up, this year is looking like a nice apple + blackberry.
Who says math isn't tasty?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Sprint
So my beloved wife and daughter are gone for the next week. You all know what that means... writing time!
Now I just need to keep from getting distracted by TV, Wii (must... avoid... unfair practicing at... Mariokart), reading (except gobbling up Watchmen in preparation for the movie), catching up on blogs, twittering, Facebook, tinkering with my website, messing about with photos, reorganizing the office, purging old records from the file cabinet.
Should be a piece of cake. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Coraline Premiere
Thinking about it still brings a smile to my face--a couple weeks ago Amber and I attended the world premiere of Coraline. Hold on tight, because this is going to be long, tedious, and possibly only interesting to me...
For those that don't know, the book (and by extension the movie) has a special place in our hearts. I mean, we named our daughter Coraline. Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors, so I was already jazzed about another of his books hitting the big screen. But when we heard that the premiere was happening in Portland, well, we couldn't resist.
Amber showed up at the box office the day they started selling tickets and snagged ours. Not surprisingly, within a couple hours things were sold out.
Amber showed up at the box office the day they started selling tickets and snagged ours. Not surprisingly, within a couple hours things were sold out.
Red Carpet
Lots of anticipation leading up to the event, especially when Gaiman tweeted that he would be "sign, hug and wave" to whoever was there. In light of that tweet, we took off earlier than planned, heading downtown to the Schnitz. A big crowd clustered around the entrance to the red carpet, which we quickly circled around to get inside.
And there they all were--Neil Gaiman, Henry Selick, Dakota Fanning, Teri Hatcher. We were back a ways, but it looked exactly like you'd expect of a red carpet. Lights flashed constantly. Reporters clustered in tight, holding boom mikes, lights, and cameras aloft for the shot. While I sincerely believe Gaiman meant what he twittered, security had other plans, constantly asking folks to keep the area nearby clear.
Now, in Three Glorious Dimensions
While I was aware that Coraline was coming in 3D, it hadn't really occurred to me that the premiere would be in that format. Huge excitement then, seeing the piles of glasses in sealed plastic bags by the entryways.
Our seats were a little close in and off-center but not enough to spoil things. My neck got slightly sore, but other matters submerged any pain once the film was done.
Speeches led the way--Phil and Travis Knight, Henry Selick, Governor Kulongoski. Travis especially was hilarious as he described stop-motion animators saying, "When you get down to it we are a bunch of oddball nomadic mole people who play with dolls for a living."
The lights dimmed, and finally the show began.
More 3D!
This was my first 3D movie, and they got the film off to an excellent start. Initial shots with the various company names had 3D borders with multiple layers. Fairly tame, but they clearly popped out in a way that you just don't see on a 2D movie.
The opening sequence begins with a doll being unstitched, and a needle swings out at you. It's the type of trick that 3D is made for. I grinned like an idiot when I saw that.
But the 3D in Coraline wasn't just a trick or gimmick. After those initial shots, it integrated into the look of the film remarkably well. I've read comments about Selick wanting it to draw you in rather than stick things out at you. For me, it accomplished that fantastically.
If you can see it in 3D (probably only for the next week!) get to the theater right away.
The Movie Itself
I always enter film adaptations with trepidation. Books are my first love, and I hate to see my favorite works turned unrecognizable up on the screen.
No worries here, though. Selick did a marvelous job of capturing the spirit of the book, both in the appearance of the peculiar characters and places, and in the tone of the storytelling. I'm not going to go all spoilery in case you haven't read the book (go read it now!), but it held up for me.
As you'd expect, there were changes made for the film version though. Two of the largest were in the setting and the addition of another character. The book took place in an old English house, while the film was set in Oregon near Ashland. While I loved the English tone of Gaiman's book, the overcast, gloomy rain of our beautiful home state fit the story well.
Adding a major character is a more troubling prospect, but Selick and crew pulled it off. In many ways, this seemed like one of those changes translating a book to film. On the page, Coraline spends lots of time, especially in the early going, alone as she explores her surroundings. While a book gives inner monologue, those long stretches of just Coraline wouldn't have worked as well on screen. Giving her another character provided more interaction, more dynamic scenes, and ultimately a more fulfilling experience.
Overall, this was one of my favorite films in a long time. The animation is stunningly beautiful and original. It doesn't look like anything else I've ever seen. Here's hoping that Laika reaps a huge harvest so they can go on creating more films like this!
No worries here, though. Selick did a marvelous job of capturing the spirit of the book, both in the appearance of the peculiar characters and places, and in the tone of the storytelling. I'm not going to go all spoilery in case you haven't read the book (go read it now!), but it held up for me.
As you'd expect, there were changes made for the film version though. Two of the largest were in the setting and the addition of another character. The book took place in an old English house, while the film was set in Oregon near Ashland. While I loved the English tone of Gaiman's book, the overcast, gloomy rain of our beautiful home state fit the story well.
Adding a major character is a more troubling prospect, but Selick and crew pulled it off. In many ways, this seemed like one of those changes translating a book to film. On the page, Coraline spends lots of time, especially in the early going, alone as she explores her surroundings. While a book gives inner monologue, those long stretches of just Coraline wouldn't have worked as well on screen. Giving her another character provided more interaction, more dynamic scenes, and ultimately a more fulfilling experience.
Overall, this was one of my favorite films in a long time. The animation is stunningly beautiful and original. It doesn't look like anything else I've ever seen. Here's hoping that Laika reaps a huge harvest so they can go on creating more films like this!
After-Party
One of the biggest surprises we learned after getting the tickets was that they included admission to the after party. It was already a thrill to attend a movie premiere, but the after party too? I was floating the whole afternoon after Amber told me that.
The "tickets" for the party were gorgeous metal keys like one featured prominently in the film. They were also used extensively in the marketing Wieden-Kennedy did for the movie. I'd seen pictures of them on Gaiman's blog, but never thought I'd actually get one.
The path from the Schnitz over to the Portland Art Museum, site of the party, was lined with paper bags glowing with small candles. There's a few great shots of it over on Kitty's Neverwear blog. We joined the huge line streaming in.
The room was packed. Colored lights gave everything a flashy, festive atmosphere. Servers with food pour into the room constantly. In the entryway, we saw Henry Selick talking with some people. Rather than interrupt, we calmly went past, although Amber brushed against him to make her way. It was so strange to be there next to a well-known director. It just didn't seem real.
Around the edges of the room were displays showing off many of the props from the movie. Some of the artists were present too. Seeing those drove home how much work making the movie must have been--the models were intricate and all handmade. We were especially impressed by Anthea Chrome who knit Coraline's sweater and gloves... with thread. I have no idea how she doesn't go blind.
We circled the room a couple times, looking at the exhibits, enjoying the atmosphere, but mostly looking for the man himself--Neil Gaiman. Up near the entry were a couple VIP areas, but we didn't see him there as we passed. Since we had a babysitter and it was getting late, we were getting ready to leave. Amber decided to take one last look, and she spotted him.
For a moment we hesitated. Was it acceptable to talk with him, or would it be an imposition?While we dithered around, someone else walked right up with a book, and Gaiman gladly signed it. We took that as a sign and got in line.
Amber pulled our copy of Coraline out of her bag, and we asked if he'd sign it. He asked who it was to, and we told him for our daughter Coraline. The look of genuine surprise and enjoyment that lit up his face was awesome. If it was possible, he became even more friendly as we showed him a picture. I'm sure this isn't the first Coraline he's heard of, but he acted as if it might have been. Above the title on the first page he wrote "For the real" Coraline, and then proceeded to draw a splendid little rat before signing his name.
We chatted briefly, telling him how much we love his work. He acted almost bashful. He's commented before on his blog that it seems slightly absurd he gets to make things up for a living. You really got the sense that's how he feels about it--just very lucky to be able to do what he does. Other folks were waiting then, so we thanked him profusely and floated away. The whole way home we both couldn't move the smiles from our lips.
On the way out they had little chocolate beetles to take with. It'll make sense once you've seen the film.
The "tickets" for the party were gorgeous metal keys like one featured prominently in the film. They were also used extensively in the marketing Wieden-Kennedy did for the movie. I'd seen pictures of them on Gaiman's blog, but never thought I'd actually get one.
The path from the Schnitz over to the Portland Art Museum, site of the party, was lined with paper bags glowing with small candles. There's a few great shots of it over on Kitty's Neverwear blog. We joined the huge line streaming in.
The room was packed. Colored lights gave everything a flashy, festive atmosphere. Servers with food pour into the room constantly. In the entryway, we saw Henry Selick talking with some people. Rather than interrupt, we calmly went past, although Amber brushed against him to make her way. It was so strange to be there next to a well-known director. It just didn't seem real.
Around the edges of the room were displays showing off many of the props from the movie. Some of the artists were present too. Seeing those drove home how much work making the movie must have been--the models were intricate and all handmade. We were especially impressed by Anthea Chrome who knit Coraline's sweater and gloves... with thread. I have no idea how she doesn't go blind.
We circled the room a couple times, looking at the exhibits, enjoying the atmosphere, but mostly looking for the man himself--Neil Gaiman. Up near the entry were a couple VIP areas, but we didn't see him there as we passed. Since we had a babysitter and it was getting late, we were getting ready to leave. Amber decided to take one last look, and she spotted him.
For a moment we hesitated. Was it acceptable to talk with him, or would it be an imposition?While we dithered around, someone else walked right up with a book, and Gaiman gladly signed it. We took that as a sign and got in line.
Amber pulled our copy of Coraline out of her bag, and we asked if he'd sign it. He asked who it was to, and we told him for our daughter Coraline. The look of genuine surprise and enjoyment that lit up his face was awesome. If it was possible, he became even more friendly as we showed him a picture. I'm sure this isn't the first Coraline he's heard of, but he acted as if it might have been. Above the title on the first page he wrote "For the real" Coraline, and then proceeded to draw a splendid little rat before signing his name.
We chatted briefly, telling him how much we love his work. He acted almost bashful. He's commented before on his blog that it seems slightly absurd he gets to make things up for a living. You really got the sense that's how he feels about it--just very lucky to be able to do what he does. Other folks were waiting then, so we thanked him profusely and floated away. The whole way home we both couldn't move the smiles from our lips.
On the way out they had little chocolate beetles to take with. It'll make sense once you've seen the film.
A Twittering Postscript
When we got home, Amber suggested that I send Neil a note on Twitter thanking him for the signing. I jotted off this:
Here's the whole haul. What a fantastic night.
When we got home, Amber suggested that I send Neil a note on Twitter thanking him for the signing. I jotted off this:
"The real Coraline" saw the rat you drew and said "za-zoo." Thanks for making our evening go from great to spectacular.Didn't expect any specific response, but the next day I got a notification email that @neilhimself was following me on Twitter. Now when I tweet about my lunch or the build breaking, one of my heroes might see it pop up on his computer screen. Cool.
Here's the whole haul. What a fantastic night.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Twelve Sentences
A while back, I stumbled on an article with some clever advice on getting writing done. Write twelve sentences. That's it. If you want to keep writing past that, do it. If not, then you've got your twelve and you're good to go. No guilt for not churning out 2000 words a day. Just small, consistent forward progress.
I started trying it and oddly enough it worked. I can rough out that much in probably 15-30 minutes. While life has gone crazy, most days I can find at least that much time to sit down and scribble.
What about continuity? What about getting a good writing flow going? Well, those are valid concerns. But I was planning on editing the novel before I shuttle it off for the world to see, right? Right? You think there won't be continuity issues even if I write the whole thing in five page chunks?
And the short bursts don't prevent that writing groove from showing up sometimes anyway. Several times I've sat down intent to just get my twelve in, and instead ended up writing pages. If I'd thought about it beforehand, I probably wouldn't have started--too much to do, floors to clean for our crawling daughter, dishes to put away, laundry to run. But the easy-in of writing just twelve sentences got my butt in the chair and it took off from there.
Slow and steady beats waiting for uninteruptted time hands down.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
An afternoon with Ursula Le Guin
About a week or two ago a friend from critique group mentioned that Ursula Le Guin was coming to Bend for a brief class during "The Nature of Words", a lit conference. Le Guin is 80 years old and doesn't teach a lot, so I was definitely on board.
The topic of her talk primarily was why we write fiction and what we can learn from that. She started by pointing out how as children we all are story-tellers. Watch a kid at play, and you'll see them building up narratives about what their dolls or spaceships are doing. We start out telling stories, but at some point most of us stop. Some even develop a distaste for fiction, perhaps reading only "real" books that talk about "real" things.
There was a lot of discussion which was awesome--I mean, here's Ursula Le Guin, and she's asking us what we think about her questions! She has a very soft-spoken style that made it a warm environment to talk about things. It wasn't in a classroom either, but in a seating area in the community college library, which went even further to establishing a relaxed atmosphere.
The standout for me was during Q&A at the end. A guy, trying to get a reaction (not in a bad way--he admitted he was being a little "provocative"), said basically that the characters that stick with him all come from realistic rather than genre fiction. He asked what she thought about that. I sat up straighter, as the downplaying of sci-fi and fantasy as juvenile and purely escapist sometimes grates on me. What defense would Le Guin use, what counter-examples she would point to? Instead she said, "Well of course. Character is often the focus of realistic fiction. Fantasy does other things." I have to admit, it was liberating to hear from someone whose work I regard so highly--Le Guin is among the most literary of fantasy authors, especially with her sophisticated use of language and depth of insight into characters. If her viewpoint is that fantasy doesn't need to "compete" with literary fiction for legitimacy, I'm inclined to believe her.
It was also inspiring to hear her talk about how she writes and her love of it. Someone asked her about process, and she said basically--what process? I just shut the door and do it. It's a good reminder that often there's no magic involved; it's mostly about showing up and doing it.
Overall it was a fantastic day. Amber and Cora came out with us and hung around in downtown Bend (which apparently has a great knitting shop). We had lunch at the Deschutes Brewery (beer taster!), and had many great conversations along the way.
Oh yeah, and I got my copy of Wizard of Earthsea signed too. Cool.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Of Meat and Music
This post is a little later than I was expecting, but that's life with a baby--free computer time is hard to come by.
Last month, Amber and I took our second excursion without the child. The first time was just a quick jaunt to the coast, almost a test run more than anything. This time we had a mission. Well, two missions really--Salumi and Radiohead.
For anyone who's been hiding under a musical rock, Radiohead released a new album, In Rainbows, a while back. I've been a big fan ever since my stint in England during college, and when we heard they were coming to Seattle (well, Auburn really, but who's counting?) we decided to shell out for tickets.
We've also wanted for quite a while to get to a restaurant in Seattle called Salumi. We saw it on No Reservations (the only TV program I regularly follow these days), and have been dying to get there ever since. Downside has always been that it's only open on weekdays until 4pm. So the game-plan was to 1) have my mom up to take care of Cora, 2) drive to Seattle for lunch at Salumi, and 3) Radiohead!
Salumi was everything we expected. The line was out the door at 2pm when we arrived. It's exactly the type of little hole in the wall you'd expect. It's narrow the whole length of it, and with people lining up to get to the counter it got even more cramped. A couple long tables at the back, a couple seats that were tight for two, the counter and that was it.
By this time of day they were already out of a number of things, particularly the delicious sounding specials. We settled on their basic salami sandwiches, of which there were nearly a dozen varieties of meat to choose from. They make them on thick, dense olive oil bread, with a bit of garlicy sauce and loads of salami, onions, and peppers. They're apparently the only place on the west coast that does the whole dry curing process themselves, and man you can taste it. I had the coppa and hot sopressata (one for there, one for dinner later). Although I managed to eat my whole sandwich, I was FULL by the end of it--no side dishes, no chips, just meat, bread and a drink. If you're a fan of cured meats, my friend, this is a must visit when in Seattle.
And then to the concert. Now I'm not a huge concert-goer. I've only been to a handful, mostly because of the expense. This one was at the Whiteriver Ampitheater. We didn't think though the "ampitheater" part of that all the way, and it rained that day (first time in weeks) and we didn't bring extra jackets. Luckily, our seats were under cover enough that it didn't make much difference.
We showed up early, due to my punctual nature and lack of familiarity with how concerts go. The opening act was a bust, and Radiohead didn't take the stage until almost 9pm. Still, I was glad to be there in plenty of time.
Before the show opened, they started pulling out lines of these long, vertical tubes over the stage (see http://www.flickr.com/photos/areminder/2786640194/in/photostream/ for a picture of it in action.) I had no idea what those were, but they turned out to be lights that they used to do some pretty amazing effects. The tubes could light up at any point along the way, so sometimes there were just dots of light, lines or whole synchronized patterns playing across the whole stage. On the closing song ("Everything in its Right Place"), they actually spelled out part of the lyrics scrolling across those vertical tubes.
On that note, the visuals exceeded anything I was expecting. In addition to the lighting on-stage, there were video screens to the right, left, and back of the stage. These cycled through various angles of what was happening, but with every song the effects changed. Video was distorted, or hazy, or oddly colored, and you never knew what was coming next. The shots had weird angles too, so it wasn't just a straight-foward "here's Thom, just like you see him"--it felt like crouching away in some corner of the stage watching the action.
The setlist (see this review for a full listing, although I personally thought they were a bit harsh on the venue) was just what I was hoping for. They obviously did a lot from the latest album, but they also plumbed back in time as well. The only disc they didn't play something off of was Pablo Honey, and given how much their style has changed since then, I wasn't surprised. OK Computer got a solid three or four songs, and since that's one of my absolute favorite albums, I was in heaven. They also played "Street Spirit" off The Bends, which is another of my favorite tracks.
Beyond the music, seeing the live show was a cool experience. One thing I wasn't expecting was the prevalence of cameras in the audience. When the show started up, the whole slope of the ampitheater down to the stage was dotted with glowing screen after glowing screen. It was like every third person had a digital camera or cell phone held up to snap a picture of the action.
Another fun bit was during the song "Faust Arp"--Thom lost his place after a couple of lines (to his credit, the lyrics are really packed together, and a single misstep completely screws the rythm). He stopped, flustered, and started singing another song (apparently Neil Young's "Tell Me Why", though I didn't recognize it), until another band member came out and dropped a dollar for him to stop. So he picks back up and flubs it at exactly the same spot! The crowd roared as he said "f*** it", before finally starting several lines later and finishing the song. Now there's something you never get listening to a CD.
Thom also dedicated one song to anyone involved in the WTO riots in Seattle. Um, yeah, all right then. Still enjoyed the song, though--just him at a piano, with a camera looking up over the keys right into his gaunt, stubbly face.
The weather turned drizzly by the end, and we were up far enough that although we were covered we still got a good bit of drifting mist. I feel for the folks on the lawn behind us--they were totally drenched by the end, but the whole area was packed front to back anyway.
I guess I've waxed on long enough. Suffice to say, it was a fantastic experience. Not something that we'll do often, but I'm so glad we grabbed hold of the chance when it presented itself.
Last month, Amber and I took our second excursion without the child. The first time was just a quick jaunt to the coast, almost a test run more than anything. This time we had a mission. Well, two missions really--Salumi and Radiohead.
For anyone who's been hiding under a musical rock, Radiohead released a new album, In Rainbows, a while back. I've been a big fan ever since my stint in England during college, and when we heard they were coming to Seattle (well, Auburn really, but who's counting?) we decided to shell out for tickets.
We've also wanted for quite a while to get to a restaurant in Seattle called Salumi. We saw it on No Reservations (the only TV program I regularly follow these days), and have been dying to get there ever since. Downside has always been that it's only open on weekdays until 4pm. So the game-plan was to 1) have my mom up to take care of Cora, 2) drive to Seattle for lunch at Salumi, and 3) Radiohead!
Salumi was everything we expected. The line was out the door at 2pm when we arrived. It's exactly the type of little hole in the wall you'd expect. It's narrow the whole length of it, and with people lining up to get to the counter it got even more cramped. A couple long tables at the back, a couple seats that were tight for two, the counter and that was it.
By this time of day they were already out of a number of things, particularly the delicious sounding specials. We settled on their basic salami sandwiches, of which there were nearly a dozen varieties of meat to choose from. They make them on thick, dense olive oil bread, with a bit of garlicy sauce and loads of salami, onions, and peppers. They're apparently the only place on the west coast that does the whole dry curing process themselves, and man you can taste it. I had the coppa and hot sopressata (one for there, one for dinner later). Although I managed to eat my whole sandwich, I was FULL by the end of it--no side dishes, no chips, just meat, bread and a drink. If you're a fan of cured meats, my friend, this is a must visit when in Seattle.
And then to the concert. Now I'm not a huge concert-goer. I've only been to a handful, mostly because of the expense. This one was at the Whiteriver Ampitheater. We didn't think though the "ampitheater" part of that all the way, and it rained that day (first time in weeks) and we didn't bring extra jackets. Luckily, our seats were under cover enough that it didn't make much difference.
We showed up early, due to my punctual nature and lack of familiarity with how concerts go. The opening act was a bust, and Radiohead didn't take the stage until almost 9pm. Still, I was glad to be there in plenty of time.
Before the show opened, they started pulling out lines of these long, vertical tubes over the stage (see http://www.flickr.com/photos/areminder/2786640194/in/photostream/ for a picture of it in action.) I had no idea what those were, but they turned out to be lights that they used to do some pretty amazing effects. The tubes could light up at any point along the way, so sometimes there were just dots of light, lines or whole synchronized patterns playing across the whole stage. On the closing song ("Everything in its Right Place"), they actually spelled out part of the lyrics scrolling across those vertical tubes.
On that note, the visuals exceeded anything I was expecting. In addition to the lighting on-stage, there were video screens to the right, left, and back of the stage. These cycled through various angles of what was happening, but with every song the effects changed. Video was distorted, or hazy, or oddly colored, and you never knew what was coming next. The shots had weird angles too, so it wasn't just a straight-foward "here's Thom, just like you see him"--it felt like crouching away in some corner of the stage watching the action.
The setlist (see this review for a full listing, although I personally thought they were a bit harsh on the venue) was just what I was hoping for. They obviously did a lot from the latest album, but they also plumbed back in time as well. The only disc they didn't play something off of was Pablo Honey, and given how much their style has changed since then, I wasn't surprised. OK Computer got a solid three or four songs, and since that's one of my absolute favorite albums, I was in heaven. They also played "Street Spirit" off The Bends, which is another of my favorite tracks.
Beyond the music, seeing the live show was a cool experience. One thing I wasn't expecting was the prevalence of cameras in the audience. When the show started up, the whole slope of the ampitheater down to the stage was dotted with glowing screen after glowing screen. It was like every third person had a digital camera or cell phone held up to snap a picture of the action.
Another fun bit was during the song "Faust Arp"--Thom lost his place after a couple of lines (to his credit, the lyrics are really packed together, and a single misstep completely screws the rythm). He stopped, flustered, and started singing another song (apparently Neil Young's "Tell Me Why", though I didn't recognize it), until another band member came out and dropped a dollar for him to stop. So he picks back up and flubs it at exactly the same spot! The crowd roared as he said "f*** it", before finally starting several lines later and finishing the song. Now there's something you never get listening to a CD.
Thom also dedicated one song to anyone involved in the WTO riots in Seattle. Um, yeah, all right then. Still enjoyed the song, though--just him at a piano, with a camera looking up over the keys right into his gaunt, stubbly face.
The weather turned drizzly by the end, and we were up far enough that although we were covered we still got a good bit of drifting mist. I feel for the folks on the lawn behind us--they were totally drenched by the end, but the whole area was packed front to back anyway.
I guess I've waxed on long enough. Suffice to say, it was a fantastic experience. Not something that we'll do often, but I'm so glad we grabbed hold of the chance when it presented itself.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
"Single" life
It's often easy to look at your life and imagine how much better things would be if they were different. Case in point for me is writing time. I am very happily married, and I love being a father, but it's hard not to fantasize about how much writing time I used to have.
Before Amber, and then Coraline came into my life, I wrote almost every night. Finding time was effortless. I never had to leap into action at the smallest slice of time. I could wind up in a leisurely way, read to feed my imagination, watch a movie and still have hours to work.
But sometimes life sends us reminders that such fantasies about how perfect life would be are exactly that--fantasy.
Amber and Coraline are visiting family in Montana for a week (they'll be back on Tuesday, so we're most of the way through). As you'd expect, this has given me tons of writing time, and I've grabbed hold with both hands, writing with the nifty fountain pen Amber bought me until my thumb aches. If anything, I'm even more productive than I used to be since now I'm far more accustomed to simply sitting down and starting without lead-time.
But what's easy to leave out in that wistful fantasy picture is the just how dry and dull life is without my family. Having Amber around gives me the chance to hang out every day with my favorite person. Simple conversation and household activities take on a whole extra dimension with her, and it's amazing how much of a gap it leaves when that's absent.
And Coraline... although I "knew" before we had her how she would wind her way into my heart, I could never have imagined how much I'd miss her. With Amber I can chat on the phone and get some snippet of normalcy, but that doesn't work with a baby. There's such a huge gap not being able to hold her, tickle her, bathe her, not to see her bright eyes track mine or a smile flourish on her cute, pudgy cheeks.
The "bachelor" fantasy somehow misses those parts of the equation, but sitting here now I know the truth. As much as I love writing, as great as it is to devote time to it, there are more important things. I can't wait for Tuesday to arrive.
Before Amber, and then Coraline came into my life, I wrote almost every night. Finding time was effortless. I never had to leap into action at the smallest slice of time. I could wind up in a leisurely way, read to feed my imagination, watch a movie and still have hours to work.
But sometimes life sends us reminders that such fantasies about how perfect life would be are exactly that--fantasy.
Amber and Coraline are visiting family in Montana for a week (they'll be back on Tuesday, so we're most of the way through). As you'd expect, this has given me tons of writing time, and I've grabbed hold with both hands, writing with the nifty fountain pen Amber bought me until my thumb aches. If anything, I'm even more productive than I used to be since now I'm far more accustomed to simply sitting down and starting without lead-time.
But what's easy to leave out in that wistful fantasy picture is the just how dry and dull life is without my family. Having Amber around gives me the chance to hang out every day with my favorite person. Simple conversation and household activities take on a whole extra dimension with her, and it's amazing how much of a gap it leaves when that's absent.
And Coraline... although I "knew" before we had her how she would wind her way into my heart, I could never have imagined how much I'd miss her. With Amber I can chat on the phone and get some snippet of normalcy, but that doesn't work with a baby. There's such a huge gap not being able to hold her, tickle her, bathe her, not to see her bright eyes track mine or a smile flourish on her cute, pudgy cheeks.
The "bachelor" fantasy somehow misses those parts of the equation, but sitting here now I know the truth. As much as I love writing, as great as it is to devote time to it, there are more important things. I can't wait for Tuesday to arrive.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Fail!
Recently, my friend Brian and his family stopped through for the night. Per usual, conversation took turns I never would have expected.
Brian teaches math and science, and he's really keen to find the best ways to help kids learn. I respect how much he thinks about the subject, and it's always enlightening to hear what new insight or method he's come up with for getting things to stick in kids' minds.
This time he mentioned an idea that sounded both strange and spot on. He wants to help his kids fail.
see more pwn and owned pictures
No, not utter fail the class, fail in a more controlled way. Often the best learning comes from trying something, messing it up, and then being able correct your approach. Brian wants to find a way to provide that--problems that are tough enough students will fail, but clear and simple enough that he can help them learn through it rather than just crash and burn.
This rings true to me in a lot of different areas beyond school. Software comes up, because there is no single "right" way to develop a given application (and a bajillion wrong ways). Any time I've returned to something I wrote as short as a year before, I see pitfalls and mistakes. While maintaining some other yahoo's code is painful, it doesn't the ouch factor that looking back over your own code can bring. But the only way to get things done is to try hard, apply the best technologies and practices we have, see where they fail, and correct.
It works with writing too. The biggest lessons that I've learned--many of them through my wonderful critique group--have come from committing time and effort to material that just doesn't work. It's only once things are written down, with someone else pouring over it, that the faults come clear.
Failure is a double-edged sword, though, because it hurts to get things wrong. As much as I know that it's the only way to grow, that doesn't remove the sucky feelings when you're in the midst of it. Having to throw out half a novel and rewrite may bring some valuable lessons, but it is not an enjoyable experience.
But you can't let that stop you. Lots of doubts plague me as I'm drafting my new book, concerns where things don't measure up to my imagination, where I'm falling into old patterns, where I might need to make major changes later. But I can only do the best that's in me now, fail on some parts, pick myself up, and try again.
Brian teaches math and science, and he's really keen to find the best ways to help kids learn. I respect how much he thinks about the subject, and it's always enlightening to hear what new insight or method he's come up with for getting things to stick in kids' minds.
This time he mentioned an idea that sounded both strange and spot on. He wants to help his kids fail.
see more pwn and owned pictures
No, not utter fail the class, fail in a more controlled way. Often the best learning comes from trying something, messing it up, and then being able correct your approach. Brian wants to find a way to provide that--problems that are tough enough students will fail, but clear and simple enough that he can help them learn through it rather than just crash and burn.
This rings true to me in a lot of different areas beyond school. Software comes up, because there is no single "right" way to develop a given application (and a bajillion wrong ways). Any time I've returned to something I wrote as short as a year before, I see pitfalls and mistakes. While maintaining some other yahoo's code is painful, it doesn't the ouch factor that looking back over your own code can bring. But the only way to get things done is to try hard, apply the best technologies and practices we have, see where they fail, and correct.
It works with writing too. The biggest lessons that I've learned--many of them through my wonderful critique group--have come from committing time and effort to material that just doesn't work. It's only once things are written down, with someone else pouring over it, that the faults come clear.
Failure is a double-edged sword, though, because it hurts to get things wrong. As much as I know that it's the only way to grow, that doesn't remove the sucky feelings when you're in the midst of it. Having to throw out half a novel and rewrite may bring some valuable lessons, but it is not an enjoyable experience.
But you can't let that stop you. Lots of doubts plague me as I'm drafting my new book, concerns where things don't measure up to my imagination, where I'm falling into old patterns, where I might need to make major changes later. But I can only do the best that's in me now, fail on some parts, pick myself up, and try again.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Vacation preview...
Here are a few recent shots from my in-laws yard in Montana.
Yes, that's a bear. In their yard. Where I'm going with my wife and 3 month old daughter! Guessing we won't be doing a lot of outdoor time this visit.
Update: Bear was kindly relocated before we arrived. Mosquittos, however, have proven to be the true outdoor threat. Who'd have thunk it!
Yes, that's a bear. In their yard. Where I'm going with my wife and 3 month old daughter! Guessing we won't be doing a lot of outdoor time this visit.
Update: Bear was kindly relocated before we arrived. Mosquittos, however, have proven to be the true outdoor threat. Who'd have thunk it!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Trunk novels
I ran across a fun blog post the other day about trunk novels--you know, those novel drafts that have been put in a dark place and mostly forgotten.
Like most writers, I have a pile of old stuff stowed away. There are four full novels buried where they will never see the light of day. Three of those four are a trilogy, and that experience convinced me that resurrecting old drafts doesn't work for me--or at the very least is hard.
(Yes, this was back when I thought fantasy only came in muli-packs, so I powered through the whole series before revising. If I didn't write the whole thing, how would I know whether I missed something in the first book..? or so the "reasoning" went.)
When I finally returned to the first book, I found something terrifying--it stunk. In the midst of all that writing, my skills had grown. A massive quality gulf yawned between the books. I tried to fix the poor first book, but it needed more than polish. It needed a complete rewrite.
That left me feeling tired and bored. I was ready to move. The next shiny idea waited out there, unencumbered and free of prior draft baggage. So I stuffed the trilogy in the trunk and moved forward.
Anyway, since dumping those drafts I've never felt an urge to go back. There may be one idea I'll use someday, but that's it. My trunk novels are almost certain to stay tucked away, moldering in the dark somewhere.
Like most writers, I have a pile of old stuff stowed away. There are four full novels buried where they will never see the light of day. Three of those four are a trilogy, and that experience convinced me that resurrecting old drafts doesn't work for me--or at the very least is hard.
(Yes, this was back when I thought fantasy only came in muli-packs, so I powered through the whole series before revising. If I didn't write the whole thing, how would I know whether I missed something in the first book..? or so the "reasoning" went.)
When I finally returned to the first book, I found something terrifying--it stunk. In the midst of all that writing, my skills had grown. A massive quality gulf yawned between the books. I tried to fix the poor first book, but it needed more than polish. It needed a complete rewrite.
That left me feeling tired and bored. I was ready to move. The next shiny idea waited out there, unencumbered and free of prior draft baggage. So I stuffed the trilogy in the trunk and moved forward.
Anyway, since dumping those drafts I've never felt an urge to go back. There may be one idea I'll use someday, but that's it. My trunk novels are almost certain to stay tucked away, moldering in the dark somewhere.
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