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Haiku

I write a haiku every day as part of my writing practice. I post these to Goodreads, which is then in turn sent through the tubes and updates Twitter, Facebook and my other social media. I also publish one blog post a week from my stable of available drafts. This week, however, I am recovering from a concussion and am not being too active, mentally or physically. I thought for my weekly walk on the cyber-side, I would post a few of my favorite February haiku. Enjoy! 

February 17th

 

February 19th

 

February 20th

 

February 25th

 

 

Today, February 26th

 

 

And now for something completely different…

From the folks at Leucrota Press, whom I admire greatly.

We found these while scrubbing the web, and thought we’d share the fun.

How many science fiction writers does it take to change a light bulb? 

Two, but it’s actually the same person doing it. He went back in time and met himself in the doorway and then the first one sat on the other one’s shoulder so that they were able to reach it. Then a major time paradox occurred and the entire room, light bulb, changer and all was blown out of existence. They co-existed in a parallel universe, though.

How many mystery writers does it take to screw in a light bulb? 

Two.  One to screw it almost all the way in, and the other to give it a surprising twist at the end.

How many cover blurb writers does it take to screw in a light bulb? 

A VAST AND TEEMING HORDE STRETCHING FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA!!!!

How many screenwriters does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer:  Ten.
1st draft.  Hero changes light bulb.
2nd draft.  Villain changes light bulb.
3rd draft.  Hero stops villain from changing light bulb.  Villain falls to death.
4th draft.  Lose the light bulb.
5th draft.  Light bulb back in.  Fluorescent instead of tungsten.
6th draft.  Villain breaks bulb, uses it to kill hero’s mentor.
7th draft.  Fluorescent not working.  Back to tungsten.
8th draft.  Hero forces villain to eat light bulb.
9th draft.  Hero laments loss of light bulb.  Doesn’t change it.
10th draft.  Hero changes light bulb.

 

How many editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?

Only one; but first they have to rewire the entire building.

How many managing editors does it take to change a light bulb?

You were supposed to have changed that lightbulb last week!

How many publishers does it take to screw in a light bulb?


Three. One to screw it in, two to hold down the editor.

And lastly…

A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.

She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.

“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”

A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.

“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”

“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”

Composting ideas, Part 3

 

The worms go in, the worms go out...Photo by asaab.

 

Not every idea works out. 

Sometimes, in the care and feeding of an idea, the “scratching,” you’ll come upon the dead-end of information lack, duplicity of concept or product, or even your own disinterest. This happens. If you are sincere and consistent with your ideas, you needn’t worry about the ones you lose. The gods will bless you again. What do you do with the idea that doesn’t work? You throw it into the compost bin.

I have a worm bin in my office with filled with my pets, my muses; Eisenia foetida, or Red Wigglers, the species found in rich, organic soils throughout Europe and North America. They are delighted to chew on my words when I am no longer able to. Their chewing, along with supplemental vegetable waste, create a rich humus that is fantastic for houseplants and gardens. I find that the fantasy trash novels that I would normally be embarrassed to shelf in my office make excellent bedding and I suspect entertainment for the worms. More than once I have opened the bin to add scrapped material to find the worms in some sort of military formation with a tiny multi-sided die. Extremely quiet, the worms keep me company and are willing to help out with a difficult passage. Being worms, they are not able to add original insights of course, but they can randomly piece together digested bits of literature that are frequently creative and even brilliant. The only disadvantage to sharing my office space with worms is the smell but the companionship is worth it, and the occasional expired worm makes an excellent, low-fat, high-protein snack. 

I am kidding. I do not have a worm bin in my office. I do, however, have a compost bin. 

When an idea does not work out, what happens to it depends upon the degree of “not working out.” The article I wrote about in Part 1 might be reworked as a different piece after I understand what the idea was about; and until then it is kept in the short-term file organizer on my desk. Unfinished, it will remain there for a month, maybe two, before being re-filed in the white banker’s box of short pieces on the shelf. If it comes together and the piece is submitted, all materials are put into the file along with the finished piece and yes, put into the banker’s box. (This isn’t a terribly sophisticated system.) But – if the idea is a failure that does not deserve permanent storage, I throw it into the compost bin. I will also have the odd scrap of words, trinkets or bit of flash that I pick up that does not have an idea attached to it. What then? I hate a cluttered environment and prefer only the items I need or that inspire me on my bulletin boards so the little extras go into the compost bin.

Have you ever been in the middle of a project and have been stuck with no where to go? I find that if I leave my office, it isn’t likely I’ll come back. This is what the compost bin is for – it’s an idea box of small beers I’ve saved for just this occasion. I’ll paw through it and reflect on the pretties (or not so pretties) and I’ll find just what I’m looking for and get back to work. That piece of dialogue written for a story that tanked, or the postcard picked up in Union Square may just be the little piece of weird to keep my creativity moving. This is the point of the compost bin. Just as the outdoor compost bin keeps organic matter circling and in use, the idea compost bin keeps our idea gardens healthy. It works every time and when it doesn’t, well; it’s probably time for a snack. 

Without worms. 

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Do you have a way to recycle ideas? Leave a comment!

Composting ideas, Part 2

 

The idea compost bin also involves heavy lifting

 

Anyone who has dealt with teenagers knows what a delicate time of life it is. (Somehow I have survived mine and Number #1 son’s. I still have two more in their late teens.) Not quite civil but with plenty of verve, young ideas are much like young adults. How does one keep them from destroying themselves? Turn them into something productive?

The good news is (and this is from a parenting perspective) that most ideas, like kids will find their way pretty well on their own. Guidance is essential, but not micro-managing. I’ve found this true with my working ideas too. My ideas inform me what their intended shape will be and I take notes.* As I mentioned in the last post, I am a writer so my techniques are organized around words. Other art forms will require other sorts of structures but the process is**  be the same. 

After an idea has had a full and delightful childhood, it is moved into the production stage. Every year in January I start one, sometimes two, large projects.*** What is chosen in January depends on market leanings, my readiness and the amount of material collected during the “childhood” phase of the idea. I don’t need all my research, or “scratching” done before  the idea begins becomes project, but I do need to have enough to get started without losing momentum. This is key – start a project when you intuit it is ready to live on its own.**** I have killed projects that were not ready to go into production due to lack of seasoning, scratching or foresight. Of course, it is also important to choose projects that can be accomplished within the time allowed in your schedule. I am finally at the stage where I can devote 8-10 hours a day wordsmithing and so two large projects, 6-12 small projects, 2 blog posts a week  3-8  hours a day wordsmithing and so one large project, 3-6 small projects, 1 blog post a week*****and 2 read books a week is difficult, but possible -  as long as I stay off twitter. 

The next step is the work. I start a project file in Scrivener and start digitizing whatever research I need to have quickly accessible. I create a folder in m Safari bookmarks to capture webpages. The actual box goes under my desk where it lives during its work cycle. I start an Evernote notebook to collect notes on my iPhone (synched to my laptop later) when I’m away from my computer. And then, and this is the part I still struggle with, I write. Finished projects go back into their digital container, the box goes back onto the shelf, and it rests for awhile. (I am still working out the right amount of rest time for each kind of project.) And then, depending on my schedule and time available, I choose another project-in-progress to work on. This rotation goes on for a year until hopefully, all projects are finished, put back to season longer, or, are composted.

Next: Composting ideas, Part 3; The worms go in, the worms go out…

* But then again, I spend an enormous amount of time immersed in the various forms that writing can take so that now when an idea develops, the right form develops with it. Is it a novel, a blog post, an article, a play, a poem, or a kid’s book? If you don’t have this sort of feel yet with your own work, it may be that you need to spend time studying the creative work of others. 

**At least, I think it’s the same. Do you have a different process for your art? Leave a comment and tell us about it. 

*** This is still very much in the experimental stage. 

**** Same thing, said differently. If you are a writer, I highly recommend.

*****I think it’s time to use footnotes – I’m losing count of the asterisks. Why the cut in hours? I’m returning to part-time work.

Composting ideas, part 1

 

Not every idea works out.

 

Last week I had the unfortunate task of killing an article I had been working on for a week. After four interviews, several hours of reading and two days of writing later, the muscle and the bones of the piece were not agreeing. I was building a type-based Frankenstein. 

Ah, well. That sometimes happens. Not every idea works out.  I thought this might be a good day to discuss the slippery nature of ideas, and the care and feeding of the charming little buggers.

What are ideas? 

An idea is the “content of cognition”, or as I prefer, stuff you’ve thought up. But rather it being just a list or a random blob of cognites, an idea has form. That’s what gets us so excited when we birth one – an idea is a structured “content of cognition.” So what do you do when one of these delights drops out of the sky and takes up residence in your soul?

First: say thank you to whatever Deity you prefer.

Second: write it down, speak it into a recording device, draw a picture, dance it – it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you document it. This is very important for two reasons; one, you are likely to forget it, and two, it is the birth certificate of your idea that proves not only who its parent is, but what hospital it was born into. This is very valuable information should another come along insisting that you’ve stolen their baby. (If you dance, you’d better get it on video. Avoid Youtube.)

Third: This is the difficult step – the beginning of parenting. Did you know that ideas, like infants, can suffer from failure to thrive disorder? If an idea has been birthed and recorded yet lingers in a dusty notebook for years before receiving attention, it will shrivel to an unrecognizable scribble that will merit nothing. All ideas need to be fed and taken out for walks once in a while. They need air, good food and exercise just as much as our human and animal charges. 

So, how to parent an idea?

Give an idea its own room, metaphorically speaking. I use banker’s boxes to store anything related to big ideas, manilla folders and 1 banker’s box to store small ideas. (Since I work with words, a “big” idea is a book, series or stand-alone project, a “small” idea is an article or short story. I developed this method before I began reading The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp but I am going to give her the credit anyway.) When something crosses my path that reminds me of that idea or seems related, it goes into the box or folder. 

But, ideas have to be fed too.

On Friday afternoons, I go out “scratching.” (This is from Twyla. I used to call this an Artist’s Date à la Julia Cameron.) I take one of my ideas out for its proverbial walk and ask it what it is in the mood to eat. If I take out the kid’s series I’m working on, we’ll go to a hardware store, a library, or maybe a museum. I’ll get notes, goodies and more ideas to add to to my baby idea. If I choose well, my idea will grow. If I don’t, well, my idea will not look so healthy the next time I take it out its box. The more I do this, the more I will have a strong idea that will eventually become a strong project. There is no reason you couldn’t scratch all the time but I find that by giving dedicating space to the focused wandering I not only have something to look forward to, I also get out of my office for awhile. It is also a nice reward for meeting my weekly word count. 

It’s up to you how many ideas you can handle growing at the same time. I currently have two major projects in boxes and five small in folders that I am currently scratching. I have a couple more ideas in the documentation stage that will go into a box after one of the major projects is finished. (I have storage space for 4 major projects but I don’t have it in me to handle that many offspring, not yet.) 

Next: Composting ideas, pt 2. Ideas in adolescence and adulthood

No apologies!

 

It's a blue ribbon day when I'm bragging.

 

Today, I bagged the writing plan to start bragging. That’s right; I needed a good brag but like many women, I had forgotten how. Or forgotten it was ok, or even desirable. 

Recently, I’ve become aware that I am a feminist again, or still, however dormant my feminist tendencies are. I had supposed that feminism had done its work and there wasn’t anything left to do. We are all equal and it’s all good, right? 

Hardly.

I still have to explain away my days to those who feel I should do more around the house as I’m not earning money. (The fact that I work 8-10 hour days on my writing or reading is lost on them.) The news articles that show we haven’t come as far in technology (or science) occupations as we think infuriate me. The backlash in the media and advertising. Politics.

It’s enough to make a girl go mad, or get mad.

I remember, as a girl in the 70’s, wanting to fly a Air Force jet, to work in computers and play with the machines in my Dad’s metal shop. At every request I was turned down because I was the girl; my brother being the boy, was encouraged despite his disinterest. A math learning disability was undiagnosed until I was struggling in college because my earlier teachers thought, “girls weren’t good in math”, so it was no big deal that I wasn’t either. I still feel robbed of my birthright. Had I been allowed to dream flying, learn to read blueprints and experiment with mechanics I might have been an engineer today. Maybe. 

Things don’t seem to have changed much. 

It has turned out all right for me. I have turned my technological and science interests into fiction. I play and explore as much as I can, an amateur; a middle-aged woman who can finally buy the toys she wished someone would have bought for me as a kid, the boy toys with batteries, tools and wiring. 

But, I don’t brag.

Bragging, or not apologizing for our success, is essential. Not only does it remind us that what we have accomplished is real, glorious and owned by us; it also shows the young women and girls watching us that not only is it good to dream, plan and do the thing we thing we can not do, it is perfectly alright to let everyone else know. If women bragged, not only would we take ourselves and our work seriously, others would take our work as equally serious as their own. No more apologies. I’m going to start bragging, will you? 

Wear the blue ribbon* and take the pledge: 

I, Paula McConnell, hereby pledge to:

• Promote other women and celebrate their success with them.
• Not feel threatened when other women in my niche are reaching their goals…a success for one is a success for all.
• Collaborate with other ambitious women as much as I can, finding synergies and ways to work together.
• Respond with a simple “Thank You” when someone publicly compliments me rather than offering an apology, a retort, or a rationalization.
• Not consciously or subconsciously bring someone else down because they have something (success or otherwise) that they think I should have.
• Continue to embrace each day as a new opportunity with enthusiasm and a positive attitude (no matter what obstacles may stand in my way.)
• Surround myself with other like-minded entrepreneurs who want to network with, support, and cross-promote one another.
• To reiterate.  I will not apologize for my success, my celebration of it, or my determination to become even more successful.  And I will applaud those women who do the same.

The Amazing Women who started the “Blue Ribbon” campaign:

Jessica Knows

Women’s Success Coaching 

Writing Roads

______________________________________________________________________________________

*Need a blue ribbon? Send an email to me for instructions on how to get one free. Get one while you can before supplies run out. Submit your blue ribbon wearing picture to the “No Apologies” Flickr group.

Deadline Next Week?

a tweet to twitter from me

 

An answer tweeted back

The National Exhale

Me, at President Obama's Inauguration. Photo by Nick Widzowski.

 

I did not write last week. I was traveling to and from President Obama’s Inauguration. I tried to write, however; but the feelings, images, and bitter temperatures left me so overstimulated that it took days before I could think clearly again, and two more days still before I could “rub two words together,” as a teacher of mine would say. It was amazing. 

Amazing. What a cop-out for a writer with some tenure.

It isn’t that I can’t write about the shift that I witnessed – internal and external – I will; it is that our language doesn’t seem to hold enough water for me to spill out in adoration.  It’s probably just too soon. I came across this bit on the Poetry Foundation website by Clive James (emphasis mine):

When reacting to a poem, the word “perfect” is inadequate for the same reason that the word “wow” would be. But it isn’t inadequate because it says nothing. It is inadequate because it is trying to say everything. On a second reading, we begin to deduce that our first reading was complex, even if it seemed simple. Scores of judgments were going on, too quickly for us to catch but adding up to a conviction—first formed early in the piece and then becoming more and more detailed—that this object’s mass of material is held together by a binding force. Such a binding force seems to operate within all successful works of art in any medium, like a singularity in space that takes us in with it, so that we can’t pay attention to anything else, and least of all to all the other works of art that might be just as powerful. We get to pay attention to them only when we recover. 

So there it is. Amazing is the only low-hanging fruit I can reach until I recover. It feels inadequate not because “it says nothing. It is inadequate because it is trying to say everything.”

The National Exhale

I walked around the two-day event (I was also there for Martin Luther King Jr. Day) with my notebook in hand and thought about my two questions,

What are you creating?

When will you create it?

It appeared to me that one reason this event drew two million people was the need and desire to create something new. I felt a powerful vibe toward creation; some called it hope. Everyone had their own wish in the day, and I’ve never felt such a communal push toward creating something new. If I could have asked two million individuals “what are you creating?” I would have had two million individual variations on the same theme. If I asked “when will you create it?”, the answer would have rumbled the ground not unlike the sound from the speakers on the National Mall. The answer would have been NOW. Perhaps I, with Blogishness, am riding a current in this national zeitgeist  (which I dubbed “the National Exhale”) that is ripping open the National Creative Block. Perhaps we all have been creatively stunted and blocked as a result of our governing. This is not so far-fetched; consider the first two definitions of creation in the American Heritage dictionary:

cre·a·tion  (kr-shn)
n.
1.a. The act of creating.
b. The fact or state of having been created.
2. The act of investing with a new office or title.

Now, isn’t that interesting?

I’m not sure I could rightly describe what I experienced that day, not yet; but I think I’m getting a lay of the internal land of where I’m traveling. Yes, it was amazing. How? I awoke to a day, still holding my breath under water but seeing the shifting light above, swimming in a crowded pool and being jabbed with elbows, knees, feet. Hands, so many hands. The pressure in my lungs, in my heart was so great that I could barely stand it, and neither could the others; the pressure that kept us apart our whole lives underwater was finally expelling us to the surface with such a force it brought tears to the eyes. We grabbed for each other and for the first time could gratefully hang on without fear of reprisal, and while holding on to each other an oath spoken was the oxygen we needed. We exhaled. Together.

How to Survive a Depression

 

Putting up and getting by.

 

I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about recession -or Depression, great or not – lately. I am an hobbyist economist and read two years ago that difficult financial times were coming. (Even Pete Seeger sang about this in his 1997 Grammy-winning album Pete.) Did I put money aside for the coming tough times? Well no, I didn’t plan that as well as I could have and much to the consternation of my ever-frugal spouse, spent more than I should have. I’m not worried, however. We do have something in the bank, and that is bankable skill.

What do I mean by bankable skill? I mean that we can fix nearly every problem that comes our way with what we have on hand, by collaborating with our members of our community or using free public resources with little cash involved. Is it always convenient? No, not always. I’ve learned, however, that convenience comes with a sticker price. We can also work to solve other’s problems if cash gets tight -and it often does. 

Bankable skill is our creative economy. We live, at no cost to us, in the top floor of a gorgeous Victorian house that is a Quaker Meeting. We are the caretakers and handle the building maintenance and scheduling. (I am also the webmaster.) Most of our dry food is bought in bulk wholesale from a restaurant supplier, our produce is the left-overs from a C.S.A. drop-off at the house that is canned and frozen, and our household items are few or homemade. We work for a discount at the food co-op. We rarely use the car. What we need in the occasional clothing or entertainments comes out of extra income or Kurt’s part-time job. Is it ideal? Not really. We would like to build a mortgage-free home on our land and to travel.  I would love a new bicycle. Even if our agi is not exactly what we would prefer, it is a very doable life, a very creative life, and certainly within the reach of anyone who is comfortable living outside of the norm. 

But this isn’t why I’m thinking about our creative economy and recession. Recently I read two pieces on the internet, one a story from our local paper about a family struggling with a wage cut and Merlin Mann’s observations on 43 folders. Merlin writes, and seems to answer the couple interviewed in the story,

Never See it Coming

It’s a wildly disarming question*, especially when you don’t know it’s coming. Because it makes you realize how much you may view life as a slog toward a tomorrow that’s pretty much identical to today and yesterday and the week before. And, certainly, there’s nothing wrong with security, dependability, and providing continuity to yourself and your family. It’s what adults need.

But, as most of us discover — especially at the beginning of that blood-curdling recession — security is an illusion. It’s a heuristic we draw from observing the coincidence of things not going badly for a while at a stretch. And, that’s great. While it lasts. But, it’s definitely an illusion.

Breaking away from this illusion seems to be key, or perhaps the key to thriving in the creative life. The couple in the story have plenty of resources (or at least stuff) to get them through this difficult time. If approached with imagination and information they may even find that a simpler lifestyle will improve the quality of their lives so much that when remembering this horrible and unfair event, they might be embarrassed at their financial sturm and drang. But, I don’t have the impression that this is a possible outcome for them. The article reflected an oh woe is me attitude that I find among frustrated artists or entrepreneurs who envy my life. The creative life is not possible for them because of a) they, unlike me, need money b) they, unlike me, need insurance (read security), c) they need status, or d) they just don’t know where to begin and do not have the energy to start anywhere. Isn’t this unfair?

No. It’s perfectly fair. 

What are you creating? When will you create it? Create it now. If faced with the opportunity to throw off the mantle of the security illusion, do it. Develop bankable skill. Simplify. Broaden your concept of economy to include all energies and resources. You may find that the recession is the rocket fuel that will blow the inertia of illusion. And that, my friend, is valuable. You can bank on it.

postscript 1/15/09

I would be remiss if I did not point out a wonderful resource that I have recently discovered. Leo Babauta’s new book and website THE POWER OF LESS is full of good tips on moving in the direction of your intent, including the free ebook THRIVING ON LESS – SIMPLIFYING IN A TOUGH ECONOMY, which is excellent. I highly recommend them both. Another excellent read ddded 1/26/09: The Iceland Scenario: What Can You Do?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________* *The question:

If, tomorrow morning, you had 60% of the time and resources you needed to start making anything you wanted, what would it be? And, what would you do first?

An excellent question that will be explored in another post. What would you make? Leave me a comment and tell me all about it. I look forward to hearing from you.