chronicled & illustrated

This Jackson Pollock widget is one I found this morning on Michelle's lovely blog: Lady Language. Thank you, Michelle! I saw the website (sorry, I don't seem to have bookmarked it so I can't link it right now) several months ago and I thought was so fun and funny, but I hadn't seen the widget until this morning. I immediately got it for my very own and posted it on The PCQ.

Here's a link to some real Jackson Pollocks.

To play with it, just pass your mouse over it. Click to get a different colour. That's it. Splashing "Paint" without the clean-up.

I feel like I could use a nice long session of splashing real paint. Fingerpainting. Bodypainting. I need to break out a little. I've been writing almost everyday for two weeks now and it's getting to me even though yesterday I didn't write at all. I woke up early, worried about all the other things in my life that I've been neglecting---typical for NaNoWriMo. So I set out to do the ones I could. It was paper work and tax stuff (my favourite) and lots of little noodling things. Later, even though I had the time to write, I simply couldn't get in that frame of mind again.

Today was gruesome. Not only did I know and could-not-forget that I had to write twice as much in order to catch up, I also felt like I'd written myself into several corners.

I didn't know what the hell I was thinking when I had this character say that and the other do this! I knew that I could either go back and rewrite those things that were giving me fits or I could suck it up and figure out how to make it work for me. I decided on the sucking up choice. It remains to be seen if what I am writing will work or not, but it feels good that at least I didn't run from my own choices. I'm going to go with them for now and maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised at some future date.

A novel is like a puzzle. Do you do crosswords or sudoku? It can be like any kind of puzzle that's a challenge. It starts off kind of fun and not too hard and then you get to a point where you have to really think and then, it gets very hard and the next step is to assume that somehow the incredibly asinine editors of that particular puzzle made a mistake and there's no solution!!!! They must have goofed! It's all wrong. No way to get it to work.

But then, another part of your mind kicks in and tells you that you are a silly goosehead and of course they didn't screw it up. You realize that you have to work harder. Keep at it. Don't give up. More than anything else, ASSUME you can make it work. Be confident in the fact that if you go at it from a different perspective or angle or state of mind, you will be able to find the solution. You'll be successful and in the figuring it out part, you'll have fun and be proud of yourself.

So that's the stage of writing that happens in the second two weeks. If you find your novel is a giant challenging puzzle, keep working at it until you find out what the solution is. The editor never goofs! Silly head.

I don’t know what the title of this post means in this context but maybe I can figure it out as I write it. That kind of process goes along with the writing I do each November.

One upon a time, many years ago, I went to an Al-Anon meeting. An exercise was done where we each picked numbers from a coffee can. The numbers were from 1 to 12 and when our time came, we were to talk about that step in the AA doctrine. I was familiar with the Twelve Steps but only in a cursory way. I was new to this program and had no expertise or practice in doing any of the steps with the possible exception of Step One. I did know that one thing: I felt powerless to control anyone else’s choices. So when my time came, I said,

I got 11. Since I don’t even know what Step 11 is, I guess I just have to look at this as a reminder that I need to do Step 1, twice as often.

The group seemed to like that quite well.

So that’s where the title of this Day 11 came from. Perhaps it does relate to writing. Each day, I sit down and know only that my job is to achieve my word count. Of course, I want to write a good story. Of course, I want it to be interesting and cohesive, and well-written. I want it to build and to have not only a good plot but also fascinating sub-plots. I want it to be insightful and fun and imaginative and surprising.

But if I fill my mind with all those wants, it fills ME with dread. I don’t know how to achieve all that at once on any given day. If I think of all that, I will not get my book written. That’s why I love NaNoWriMo so much. It gives me a daily deadline and a reason to forget all that FOR NOW.

So when I sit down to write each day, I know only one thing: that I have to write at least 1667 words. On most days, I write something that pleases me to some extent. It’s never perfect. Sometimes it is drivel and I know that it will never make the finished version, but that’s okay because I’ve kept going in a forward direction. At least it shows me where I don’t want to go!

In a way, that’s like taking the First Step over and over again. Sit down and write. Tomorrow, do that again. Soon, I’ll have enough material to call it a first draft.

We worry about Step Two when we get there.

In addition to that fancy camera, I got a computer drawing tablet and pen for my birthday.

I KNOW it’s going to be extremely useful
—especially once I get the hang of it—but so far, all I can think to do is play with it.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

This is one of the things I’ve done. It’s a doodle. An experiment with letters and other marks that could be letters. It was fun to do and as such, it feels as if I’m using my new tool (“For the serious photographer, designer and artist” the package states) as a toy. At what point do I begin to feel serious about it? My husband often asks when inquiring about what I did on a certain day, “Were you working or playing?”

Whew. That’s a tough one to answer. If I enjoy my work, does that mean it’s always play? If I usually enjoy my work but am dealing with a challenging problem, then is it work? Or if I am doing art for no one and no reason, but am frustrated by it, does that mean it’s work? Is doing art for no reason ever anything but play? Where’s the line between a “serious tool” for serious creative types and a toy for someone who’s “just playing?”

Ahh, I don’t care. It’s just my brain playing with words, isn’t it? And some days, that’s what art and work is all about.

mirror image,
originally uploaded by nuanc.

I have a great new camera. I’ve always dreamed of one day getting a really good camera but put it off and off even when digital made photography immediate and playful and when the internet made it possible to share and get comments from people all over the world. I put it off because I have a superstition about getting good/expensive equipment. It sometimes signals the death of a creative era.

It may be a superstition, but it may also be learning. Years ago, not long after purchasing a huge roll of canvas and being given a fancy wooden easel, I stopped painting.

The problem is: you get the fancy equipment and suddenly there are expectations of producing something excellent. Suddenly it’s changed from: see what nice results I can pull off with my simple digital camera? to: if I can’t get fabulous results with this camera, I’ve wasted the money and let myself down. Suddenly the playfulness leaves and Things Get Serious.

I’m not letting that happen with this camera. It’s just the reason I put off getting one. The only way I could truly let myself down with my new camera is if I fail to use it. If the last week is any indication of future use, it seems I’m likely to be at the opposite end of that extreme. I’ve taken hundreds and hundreds of shots and the word “obsession” has been used several times.

But this all is a reminder of the kind of mental distortion that can happen around creative endeavors.

Anyway, as it happens, I am drawn to visual distortion. The photograph I used today is one taken with the new camera. It’s a view of my office area reflected in an old, cheaply-made mirror—thus the funky distortion. It’s my reminder that even if I’m still getting quite a few out of focus shots (it’s only been a week AND I don’t have a tripod yet!) that my photographs will always reflect my own vision of the world, distorted or otherwise.

After hours and hours of work over the last two and a half weeks, I have only one page left to finish (and—oh well, yeah—thousands of tiny adjustments and corrections)

Three books in the works (Galveston, Causeway and Nova) and none of them are thrilling me.

Just heard about this technique from a friend; I decided to try it on my mysterious leg pain since “western” medicine isn’t offering a cure. whatthehell…

the ins and outs of the Nikon D80 AND a computer drawing tablet and pen!

in through the windows,
originally uploaded by nuanc.

I’m reminded this morning of the Woody Allen quote, “Eighty percent of life is showing up.”
My husband tells a story about when he was in high school and had a job selling shoes. Well, selling shoes is, according to him, an overstatement. He rarely sold any. He hated the job as most of it entailed standing around for several hours doing nothing but trying to look busy. And yet, even though he hated it and rarely sold anything, his boss loved him. When he mentioned this paradox to his father, his dad told him that the boss liked him because he always showed up. He was reliable and there, just in case someone wanted to buy a pair of shoes!

Over the last five days, I’ve been finishing up on The Practically Creative Quarter. This is the second full month of the new format and it’s working out great. The site functions well and—while it’s still a lot of work—it’s doable. Instead of working three solid months to get it ready, I can do a little each week and still have a variety of new things for people to read and see.

So there’s the showing up part.

That’s eighty percent of it, right?

Not really. Because the eighty percent has to include the future as well as the past! Consistency is difficult for me, so I know from experience that two months means nothing. I can fall off this wagon in a heartbeat. That’s why I always need the practical side of me to show up along side the creative side. The first PCQ was creative but not practical. The new version is, I hope, both.

But this morning, I’m being nagged by that other twenty percent. What’s that, Woody? Well we know, don’t we? It’s being good. It’s being unique. It’s offering—showing off—something that people want.

I didn’t start The PCQ to show off. From the beginning, it was about me wanting a place to process creativity. If I still have issues with creativity—need for perfection, trouble finishing things, over-stretching my limitations, and more—I knew that other people do too. So I thought I’d share those challenges with others. What I’ve learned and what I’m learning. But somewhere in all that, I have to deal with the exposure of myself—repeatedly, as it turns out. I often have a bad, let-down day after an email update goes out to my subscribers.

I was writing a piece of fiction last week where a grandmother is watching her granddaughter practice a performance. It’s just the two of them; the granddaughter is talented and very good in the performance. Afterward the little girl gets quiet and comes to sit very close to the grandmother. The grandmother leans down and whispers to her, “Sometimes we can end up feeling that we did something wrong even when everyone tells us we’re good.”

Those words, coming out of my character’s mouth, surprised me. I didn’t know I was going to write that but it sums up my feelings about the showing off part of showing up.

No matter how many people are reading The PCQ (and the numbers are good!)—I feel like the granddaughter in my story, wishing I had a comforting grandmother to snuggle up against. Someone who would know instinctively the down side of showing off.

And yet, those are momentary feelings. The project that is The PCQ is still about process. It’s not perfect because I’m not and because I have sworn off even yearning toward perfection.

My plan is to show up and take the eighty percent odds that it’ll be good enough.

THE ILLUSTRATION: this is a photograph of light hitting a watercolor painting. Speaking of showing off, it was the first painting of mine (done over 20 years ago!) that I felt was good enough to be framed. I loved the way this photograph turned out because the “real” light seems to be coming in through the painted window. Illusions.

READING: Causeway, Linden MacIntyre
EXPECTING: Company! two childhood friends are spontaneously flying up from Texas for a week!
HOPING: We have decent weather (what else?)

two loves,
originally uploaded by nuanc.

So now it’s time to write. I have other things to do, of course. I am supposed to be working on the update of the EPIC website.

It’s so far overdue that I’m embarrassed—even though there is no one but me upset by it or waiting for it (though my husband will definitely like it—and me —when it’s done!). As well, I accumulated other things to do while I was away. I started a small artist’s site for my son and promised him some business cards. I want to do that asap because his career is taking off in small ways and I want to give him what I can to help. And of course, those are *fun* things to do. There are other things on the to-do list as well. But none of them are crucial. They are all things that can be fitted in around whatever is most important.

So now, it’s time to write.

All the way down to Maine, I thought about three stories in various stages. First I thought about the one I had just started. I have about a page and a half written. JUST a beginning…but, the idea came to me full-fledged (a rarity!) and with hours by myself to do nothing but drive and think, I filled in a lot of what was vague. Or, I think I did. One never really knows until the writing is being done. Sometimes what is in your head, isn’t what comes out on paper and stories can definitely take sharp turns that weren’t on the planned journey.

A second story I thought about was one I did a lot of work on a year or more ago. I liked it, it seemed like a good beginning, but I never could push myself to finish it. So I thought it through. Decided what needed to happen. How I could improve the tone of the piece. I don’t even think it would take that long to have a finished first draft.

The third thing I thought about was just an idea for a story. It has to do with music and communication and ‘races’ of ‘people’ who use music for their own ends. I am not sure yet what else. It’s definitely NOT a story yet but I write down the whiff of an idea here so as not to forget or minimize it as a future possibility.

This is all motivating to me because I had just about given up on writing short stories. Novels, it seems, are my forte. A short story feels frustrating and limiting and I began telling myself that it was okay for me not to write short stories if I didn’t want to. But now…with a collaboration project in the planning stages, I’m motivated again. If I can pull off any of these ideas, it’ll please me to have gotten back to a written form that I should be able to participate in whether it’s my favourite or not.

READING: Tales of Protections by Eric Fosnes Hansen (book club this Saturday!)
WRITING: NetWorld, a short story
WEBBING: Quintessential Abstractions, an artist’s website
PHYSICALLY: lousy, I’ve got a cold
EMOTIONALLY: calm, optimistic

The Illustration: this is a layered composition made up of one of my doodles (marker and gelpens) and pages of my writing. Click on it to see a larger version on flickr.