A books post!

March 29th, 2011 § Comments Off § permalink

For a month and a half now I haven’t read any fiction. Mostly, I’ve been reading how-to-art books, and while these are fascinating they aren’t really what you might call “escapist literature”, and they’re more likely to make me get up and do something rather than help me relax.

Matched by Ally Condie

Frankly, after the stress of the past couple of weeks, I need to check out for a bit. The best way to do this is with a teen novel, which are usually quick to read, and even the darkest tend not to suffocate. So last night, I started Matched by Ally Condie, a utopian novel with a nifty premise: In the Society, everything is perfectly planned, including your future marriage. At age seventeen, you are “Matched” with your perfect mate, but when Cassia views the microcard to learn about her Match, a glitch flashes the wrong face on the screen. It must be a mistake, but the Society never makes mistakes, does it? I’m looking forward to taking a break with this one, because I love “bad utopia” (a utopian society gone bad, not to be confused with dystopia) and arranged marriage plots.

What else am I reading right now? I’m still working through these how-to-art books:

I have a bunch of other books I’m itching to get to, mostly folk tales and Japanese culture-related stuff. But it’s a dreary day today, grey and chilly, so other than working, I’m just planning to curl up with Matched and a lot of tea.

Yreka Hospital

March 21st, 2011 § 2 comments § permalink

Yreka Hospital by fairyrevel
Yreka Hospital a photo by fairyrevel on Flickr.

Watercolor of Yreka hospital, painted on a cloudy day in my watercolor journal. It turned out much too pumpkin-y; I think I need to make a color wheel soon for practice.

My Heart is in Japan

March 14th, 2011 § 2 comments § permalink

(As you can see if you’re here, this blog has moved to it’s new location at fairyrevel.com. Please update your bookmarks and newsfeeds. I’m excited to be at a domain that better reflects my creative spirit! I’ll be going through and cleaning out old links and other artifacts from the old location.)

Right now I’m sitting near a window on an overcast day, looking at a grey, melancholy sky, but my heart is an ocean away. Thinking of the destruction and suffering taking place in Japan, a place that for many years has been my heart’s desire, I’m hardly aware of what’s going on around me here. I’m working on things that need to be done, going ahead with my plans for the future, but I feel like my own life here has stopped, that I’m over there, but unable to reach out to help or to do any good. I keep thinking of familiar faces, wondering whether they or their families are okay, and of the lives and livelihoods lost in the earthquake and tsunami.

I don’t have the words yet to say too much about it, but I couldn’t let such a thing pass without making some kind of comment. Let it suffice to say that I am constantly watching the news, constantly praying, and still planning, with even more fervor, to get to Japan as soon as I possibly can.

If you are able, please donate to the Japan Earthquake and Tsunami Relief Fund at GlobalGiving.

Review: The Odyssey of Homer

January 26th, 2011 § 12 comments § permalink

“Any of these major epics exerts enormous demands on the reader — demands of attention, of involvement, and of imagination. The effort to read them is very great indeed.”How to Read a Book by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren

The Odyssey

Since it took me over a year of reading in fits and starts to get through The Iliad, I was somewhat apprehensive about The Odyssey. The Iliad is a good book, but epic poetry, I’ve discovered, is not for the faint of heart; it’s vast in scope, heavy in subject matter, and often, especially in the case of The Iliad, weirdly repetitive — intended for oral recitation, in sections, epic poems were enjoyed by their original audiences in a far different manner than how we take them in today.

That said, The Odyssey was a much more enjoyable read for me than The Iliad. First of all, the characters go somewhere, and there is much less bickering, and no pouting Achilleus. The translation I read, by Richmond Lattimore, was easy to follow, but the language was suited to the epic subject matter (I was even able to scribble down some new words to look up.) That’s not to say that The Iliad was a worse book; I just found it a lot more difficult.

The premise of The Odyssey is known to most people, even those who haven’t read the book, since most everybody has skivved off reading it in favor of the SparkNotes version, at school. Odysseus, on his journey back from the Trojan War, suffers many troubles and obstacles, only to to find his house in Ithaca taken over by suitors seeking his own wife’s hand in marriage.

That’s the simple version. In reality, the structure of the book is well-built and complex. I was surprised to find that the better part of Odysseus’s journey is told in flashback, and that his story is surrounded by a framing device: before we are introduced to Odysseus, we meet his son, Telemachos, who grows more frustrated by the day at the suitors who waste his father’s property in feasting and entertainment, who dally with the serving girls, and try to force his mother, Penelope, to choose one of them against her will. With the assistance of Pallas Athene, goddess of war, wisdom and etc., Telemachos goes on a journey to learn whether anyone knows whether his father is dead or alive. Seeing an advantageous opportunity, the suitors send out a ship to lie in wait for him, and we leave Telemachos in a cliffhanger — could this be the first cliffhanger ever written?

I was surprised at the sophistication of the storytelling in The Odyssey; it employs numerous narrative devices that add to the excitement for the reader, and the pacing is just right for each part of the story. Homer knows when to linger over a matter, and when to skip another. Whereas in The Iliad, the battle scenes dragged on and on, the events in The Odyssey flow briskly along (in spite of a propensity on everybody’s part for speeches in response to just about everything).

Maybe it was because there was a greater feminine presence in the story, but I liked all the characters, both male and female, better than when I read The Iliad, though as in The Iliad, I found the often prideful and sometimes downright dumb behavior of Odysseus and his companions perplexing — for instance, when Odysseus, angry over the murder of some of his friends, shouts at the Cyclops, who throws a huge rock at their boat, sending it back to shore to where the Cyclops is, they get away once more… and then Odysseus does it again. The pre-Christian tendency to lack mercy also bothered me, but paganism was a tough path, after all. So many interesting themes and questions emerge through the course of the story — the treatment of the female characters in the ancient world and their varying responses to it, the contrasting potrayals of hospitality (or lack thereof, in the case of the Cyclops) — but I think the theme that stands out the most and which seems to be the main theme of the story is the question of suffering. In other words, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Homer’s answer seems to be, “Because the gods hate you.” Like I said, paganism was a tough path. The interesting thing, however, was Athene’s protection and provision all through the journey of Odysseus, perhaps as a representative of grace.

Really, I’m still processing it. I don’t think it’s the sort of book that you could fully grasp in one reading, or even multiple readings. Though it was fairly difficult to get through, I’m glad I read it, and happy to have it on my bookshelf, and I’m sure I’ll return to it for further exploration.

The Classics Circuit: Ancient Greeks Tour
This post is a stop on The Classics Circuit: Ancient Greeks Tour.

Writing From the Heart

January 12th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

There’s an excellent essay in Booklife called “Permission to Fail”, and in it, Jeff Vandermeer says,

To be great, we must attempt so much that we not only are in danger of forever failing, but that we do fail, and in the failure create something greater than if we had set our sights lower.

Whenever I’m working on a novel, I get a sinking feeling at some point, sometimes at multiple points. “This is too weird,” I think. “No one will like this character. This setting is too alien to me. This novel is way over my head.” The feeling of biting off way more than I can chew is familiar to me, and I usually end up putting the novel away. It’s a coward’s way out: “I’ll just work on something else for a while.”

Here, Vandermeer is giving me a different perspective on that feeling. Maybe that feeling of being in over my head is a good sign, a sign that my ideas are exactly the right ones to inspire me to write something dearer to my heart, which I believe is the real way to reach for literary greatness: write something that matters to you. He continues with a quote from J.T. Glover on Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian and Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell:

‘Both were big, ambitious books, and from a fearful-of-failure standpoint horribly risky. What happens if you spend ten years on a novel, only to find it doesn’t work?’

All I could think of is how much Kostova and Clarke learned while writing those novels — how at times, for whole years, their lives must have revolved around work on their respective novels, and much of everything they did had some relationship to those novels. The risk factor is incredible, and yet even if those two books had never been published, I find it unlikely that either novelist would have said they’d failed. the failure would have come from never attempting what had appeared in their imaginations. The failure would have come from thinking what if I had tried?

Surely if I write something that’s frightening in its peculiarity, but that speaks to me on a deep level, it will speak to someone else, too. Even if it doesn’t, does it matter? By writing from my heart, I will have written the thing I needed to write, the thing that made me get up in the morning and throw myself into the work with abandon, and isn’t that better than writing a sure bestseller? How could I regret something like that?

The downside to this is that there’s every possibility that when you devote that much of yourself to a project, give everything you’ve got to it, there’s no way of knowing you’ll write more than one. When Vandermeer says, “You might be of a more cautious temperament than other writers so it might take you longer,” I feel a twinge of apprehension. On the other hand, is there a cost to planning a ten book series, in that you may rob Book One to pay Book Two, and so on down the line, never really reaching your full potential in any of them? Is perfection really the enemy of the good, or do you have to shoot for perfection to ever hit greatness?

I don’t know. While this advice gives me inspiration for those beloved projects that once seemed too big for me, the part of me that dreams of being a prolific working writer is skeptical. I don’t know what the results will be if I aim for a middle ground; my personal conviction is that everything in life has a cost, and the greatest rewards have the greatest cost.

I’m also reminded of a favorite quote of mine, by Annie Dillard:

One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better.

The File Drawer of Unfinished Work

January 6th, 2011 § Comments Off § permalink

“I went for years not finishing anything. Because, of course, when you finish something you can be judged.” – Erica Jong

That quote showed up in my Twitter timeline yesterday, and I think it’s pretty apt. I’ve been organizing my writing and craft studio, sorting old writing and finally putting it into a file cabinet.

My writing file drawer.

(1) is the folder for Cinquefoil, the historical novel I’ve been working on for ages.
(2) is the folder for Amaranth, the historical fantasy I’ve also been working on for ages.
(3) is the folder for the first Searoyal novel, Foxglove, which I’ve also… you get the picture.

Other little folders are wedged in here and there, but mostly it’s those three. The one above (1) is actually the world building (not novel-specific) that I’ve collected for my fantasy setting, Searoyal. I think that folder is a bit too slim for my liking, considering how much work I’ve done on the book. It’s probably why I’m uncomfortable with what I’ve got so far; it doesn’t feel developed enough. The one with the brown notebook is a halfling tale, and I didn’t list it with the others because even though it looks big, I know it’s only a few notebook pages. Behind those are a couple of fanfics, one for Harry Potter, one for Babylon 5, that I’ve done a little planning for and still intend to write one day. There’s also a folder with assorted ideas in it.

Anyway, looking at this image, Erica Jong’s words hit home. My writing goal this year is to learn to write short stories, to write one a week, and try to send out one a week as well. But I can feel the dread of the finished story looming ahead, making me fiddle around with other stuff, get sucked into research, and otherwise put off the inevitable judgement.

My Reading Plan for 2011

December 29th, 2010 § Comments Off § permalink

Every year I make a reading plan, and I rarely (if ever) complete it. In spite of that, I feel that I accomplish more with a plan than I would without one. My goals, however far beyond my reach, or however I flounder and fail, encourage me to do better than before, to keep working at achievements, even if I don’t meet with as much success as I hoped.

My reading plan for this year is:

Get a foundation in fairy tales and folk tales.
This may sound weird for someone into fantastic literature, but I have never enjoyed fairy tales, and I’ve read very few. I think it’s because I like my reading to be deeply personal and character-focused, and fairy tales are short on character development. However, I think it’s time I became familiar with more tales than just the ones that became Disney movies, and see if I can’t learn to love something about these stories. I’ll be posting a sort of “initial impressions” series on fairy tales in 2011, as much for a personal record as public discussion.

Then begin studying Japanese folk tales.
I’ve been reading Japanese Tales, translated by Royall Tyler, and I’m surprised to say I’m enjoying the stories more than I thought I would. Many of them are funny, in a sort of quirky, dry-humored way. Unfortunately, these are mostly courtly and religious stories rather than folk tales, so there aren’t a lot of the farmers, fishermen and kappa I hoped to read about. So part of my reading plan for this year is just to immerse myself in the Japanese folk tales translated so far into English.

Read 50 books.
This is my basic, bottom-line challenge every year, and every year I fail to meet it. But last year (2009) I raised the number of books I read in a year from about 10 to around 25, and this year it looks like I’ll come in somewhere just under 20, so I’m happy with my results and will continue to shoot for 50 books each year. I really hope to make it this year!

Read one-third of the books on my 100 Project list, half of them the “difficult” books.
I posted my 100 Project list not that long ago. I really need to work hard if I’m to finish all the books on the list by my end date (April 27th, 2014), and some of these books are doozies. I don’t know if I’ll make a list specifically of difficult ones to conquer, but it might help.

Read the unread books already on my shelves.
When I look up at my bookcases, I see rows of books unread. This makes me feel guilty, and then when I’m at the bookstore, I have this horrible thought: “I should not buy any more books until I read the ones I have.” This must not be. So in order to free myself from the chains of guilt, I should probably read as many of the books I own as possible.

Once again, I’m probably over-reaching, but I sort of don’t care. You can’t reach a goal you haven’t set.

Who needs eggnog, when you have Butterbeer?

December 27th, 2010 § 3 comments § permalink

My niece’s birthday falls on Christmas, and since we’re both big Harry Potter geeks, this year I decided to make Butterbeer Cupcakes. Amy at amybites reverse-engineered the flavors from the Butterbeer served at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, an effort which is much appreciated. I’m not sure I’ve ever made cupcakes before, or if I did it was far enough in the distant past that I don’t remember. I was a bit nervous making these, because they’re filled with butterscotch ganache.

Butterbeer Cupcakes

The recipe calls for imitation butter flavoring, and I decided not to use it for safety reasons, but I’m sure that with the flavoring the cupcakes would have tasted even more the way you’d imagine butterbeer tasting. It was a hard decision, and one I’m still not entirely happy with, so if somebody knows a way to imitate the fake butter flavor using something that doesn’t make you need a fake lung, I’d love to hear about it. The cake turned out a little drier than I would have liked, but the butterscotch ganache helped with that, and tasted lovely. The frosting reminded me why butterscotch is one of my favorite flavors, and I think I did pretty well with the piping, considering I’d never done it before and just used a plasic bag with no decorating tip.

I looked everywhere for butterscotch-flavored syrup for mixing with the vanilla cream soda, to make butterbeer for drinking later, but in the end my friends and I had to mix in some of the ganache. It worked pretty well, though the heavy cream sort of wanted to separate from the soda. It tasted great, though! I’ll definitely be hunting for a butterscotch syrup to use next time we want to geek out with cold beverages.

(Thanks to Jonathan for taking the above photo!)

100 Project List, Chronologically Correct Edition!

December 15th, 2010 § 4 comments § permalink

Some time ago, I created a Livejournal community called 100 Project, an adaptation of the Fill in the Gaps: 100 Project blog for Livejournal users. Participants choose 100 books they think they ought to have read by now (classics, difficult books, or whatever) and read them all within five years. (Guidelines are here.)

I started with The Last Unicorn, then prompty chose The Iliad as my second book. Which wasn’t fun, and caused me to only get three books from the list read in my first year-and-a-half of participation. Ouch. Anyway, I noticed that whenever I would think about my list, I would mentally say, “Well, I don’t know what order these books were published in, and I did sort of want to read the very old ones in order…” A paltry excuse? Maybe. But I figured that if that was something keeping me from reading the books on this list, I’d be better off finally sitting down and putting them into chronological order.

» Read the rest of this entry «

Open Connections, Closed Connections

December 13th, 2010 § Comments Off § permalink

Booklife by Jeff VandermeerIn Booklife: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st Century Writer, Jeff Vandermeer talks about open connections versus closed connections, and how they affect creativity.

A “connection” in this case is any access point with the outside world, especially those opened by social media. A blog, email account, Twitter, Facebook, and so on — each point at which the writer can be accessed is a connection.

Each writer can handle a different number of open connections. I know some writers who seem to have a limitless capacity for interaction with the outside world even as they are working on drafts or brainstorming. But I think most writers have a certain threshold for the number of open connections they can maintain, and that most work (or would work) better with no open connections during their actual writing time.

I’m afraid I’m one of those writers who needs a severely limited number of open connections at any given time, and none whatsoever while I’m writing. The more intense the stage of the creative process I’m at, the further I pull back, hole up, and hide out (that’s how I’ve earned my reputation as a recluse, probably.)

Even when I’m not in the thrall of my Muse, I can only handle a very few open connections, much fewer than I think most other writers can manage. I can’t have an instant messager open at almost any time; the temptation to procastinate my life away in chit-chat is just too great. I try (and often fail) to keep Twitter off until I’m done with the day’s writing, and if I look at my email before writing I find it almost impossible to get started, even if it’s junk mail and sales notices. I’m a born rabbit-trail-chaser and don’t dare websurf, so internet memes and the popular YouTube video du jour are totally under my radar for the most part. I never even know what to talk about on Twitter anymore.

I’m at a place where I’m ready to count my open connections, set a limit, and start closing some. Jeff Vandermeer says that even connections that we ignore can drain us, and I’ve found that to be true, with so many accounts open all over the place that I’m sometimes surprised to find that the person who has my username at this or that site is actually me.

The most important thing to me, as Jenny Crusie wrote in her oldie-but-goodie article, Taking Out the Garbage, is to protect the work. Social networking, self-promotion and marketing are a necessary part of the writer’s job these days, but not at the expense of the work. So if I have to let some of my accounts go, consolidate, or otherwise shut down a connection, I will. I’d rather write only for myself than spend my life writing bad stuff — or never finishing anything — because I couldn’t concentrate.

(For what it’s worth, right now I’m definitely planning to keep this blog and my Twitter account. Everything else is a potential candidate for scrapping.)