Music

On the way to church this morning, I turned on the radio and decided to turn on the CD player instead.  The Gathering was in slot 6, and Mr. X gave me that on our first date, and it was right for the day, for my mood, for the level of energy.

My CDs in the car are stacked by their position in the player.  #1 is on the bottom, #6 is on the top.  I peek in the dashboard bin from time to time, to see what's where, to decide what to listen to if I need a change.  As in most things, I'm not organized because I'm that good/efficient - there needs to be a place for everything   so I can keep myself oriented.  I'm that *bad*!

Today, apparently, I was badly organized.  What was supposed to be The Gathering was instead Andy Deane slowly singing, low, "Once more, take my hand ..."

It wasn't "our" music.  But the unexpected playlist suited me anyway.  Bella Morte is a band I can imagine seeing with X - one of those hundred dreams he and I have, across the miles, across the time.

In six weeks, it will be ten years since I met him.  The relationship is not conventional, never has been really - and this bends people out of shape.  Sometimes, honestly, *far* out of shape.  Sometimes, it's X and I who get bent.  It's a funny thing, but I actually met Andy in April, and told him he was the most attractive man I'd seen in years.  It was a hit-and-run, that compliment, but I had to give it. The frequency with which I actually find anyone attractive is vanishingly low.

Two weeks later, I had a period of frustration - went to church then, and gave it up - and instantaneously, X not only answered my plea to G-d, and we began planning the trip to see each other.  I was beside him again, literally for the first time in *years*, within days.  Something like that - some inspiration to abide - has come up every time I told G-d I would sincerely give up, if that is what I am supposed to do.

X does give up, but then he's more depressive than I.  I'm like the late, great Sweet Siddy La - I am hope incarnate.  We both have said, over the years, there is a balance between us.  I don't so much staunch his melancholy.  But maybe am an antidote.

"Once more, take my hand."

What I would give, just to touch X's fine, elegant fingers.  Eight years profoundly apart.  Ten years we have known each other.

It's a good thing the next song on the random shuffle turned out to be "Lights Flash In the Sky".  It's probably my favorite track, AND it is a different tempo altogether.

Writerliness

I found this post in the Drafts file - one I thought I had published months ago.  Since it saves as of the date you wrote it, but publishes in real time - please accept that this was written in April, but still says some relevant things (to my mind!).



Okay, Arianna Huffington on Colbert says "The Huffington Post is not about Right versus Left, it is about Right versus WRONG ..."

Oh, honey.

And I read HuffPo from time to time.



But THAT.  Is writerliness.  And this finally gets me off my bum to write that Writerly post I've been thinking and saying I was going to get to soon.


***


Okay.

Writerly writing goes past self-consciousness and ends up in self-satisfaction instead, skewing either twee or superior depending upon its point.  And it always has a point, which itself is tiresome.

More often than not, the latter seasons of M*A*S*H represent for me the sins of writerliness - the didactic sentimentality, the heavily over-ground axes - but it is popular even in journalism.  In fiction, it can get pretty thick.  Fiction peopled with auto-characters, avatars for an author's self (or dreams of self) modeled into *ary *ues, cheap exposition working to be clever, would-be clever verbiage straining to teach.

The writerly writer can be heard finding their own work witty and charming.  On television, Sorkin productions sometimes fluff a writerly writer.  Sitcoms of course do it, see the old war horse referenced above.  In the seventies, before irony, archness, and meta came along (we did not know of these concepts of course, the human race before Teh Intarwebs), earnestness was done to a scale which might appear ostentatious to the wiser eyes of today.  (Is Diane being writerly?  The world may never know.  But as Mr. X knows, I was never suBtle.)

Cleverness and sincerity had a dangerously passionate relationship, and of course audiences had no critical eye for it.  This stuff was ENT-ertaiment!  (*Cue Lovitz doing his Thespian character.)  Even the quiet writerly moment - *especially* the quiet writerly moment - was thick with portent.  "Portent!" these moments cried, with their contrived intensity.  "Portent ..." they whispered, with the profundity of Lesson.

Ahh.  Writerly writing.

It's hardly gone the way of the dodo, since all us hayseed pre-'netters grew up and got iPhones.  Even reality TV occasionally falls prey to writerliness, don't kid yourself.  And reality serves us up intimate, powerful personal monologues by the multi-ton.

If only we could keep it out of "JOURNALISM" ...  Whatever that even is, anymore.  The best ones out there are Colbert and Stewart.  What does that say about our supposed non-fiction writers??

6:46 p.m.

The first new query has gone.  Time to get back to the grind!

PROCESS: Version Three

With some help from Leila, we have now come to this:

Clovis I came to the throne at fifteen, yearning for more from his accession, and erupted to fame vanquishing Rome's power in Gaul.  From a childhood under the shadow of a scandalous mother and profligate father, he launched his own reputation--his legend--with an act of revenge so spectacular the tale is told to this day.  At last, he forged a dynasty by deceiving his allies and killing his own kin.  Yet Clovis' power was balance on his faith in God ... and his religion was inspired by the love of the magnificent Queen Clotilde.

His parents' sins instilled in him a discipline which became ambition so wide he built from it the very foundation of the Frankish empire.  His abiding love of the Catholic Clotilde led him to conversion, which set the course of politics and faith in Europe for a thousand years.  With four sons and indomitable will, Clovis befan a dynasty and set forth the law.  He was famed for piety and a bloodthirsty nature ... yet few can say who he truly was ...

The Ax and the Vase creates and recreates Clovis' story, his world, his fame--and his infamy.  It is the product of fascination, years of research, and the urgent need to understand and to tell this great, gripping story.

Yes:  please leave feedback if you would like to!

PROCESS: Version Two

Mojourner saw a structure in the first raw brain-dump, and said it could be refined with a repeated within-without tension.  Small, expositive verb - big, muscular action.  This is where that observation has taken me so far:

Clovis I came to the throne at fifteen, and erupted to fame vanquishing Rome's power in Gaul.  He lived in childhood under the shadows of the reputation of a scandalous mother and profligate father; and launched his reputation - his legend - with an act of revenge so spectacular, the tale is told to this day.  At last, he forged a dynasty by deceiving his allies and killing his own kin.  Yet Clovis’ power was balanced on his faith in God ... and his religion was inspired by the love of the magnificent Queen Clotilde.

Clovis yearned, from his accession, for more than his father’s small kingdom.  His parents’ sins instilled in him a discipline which became an ambition so wide he built from it the very foundation of the Frankish empire.  His abiding love of the Catholic Clotilde led him to conversion, which set the course of politics and faith in Europe for a thousand years.  With four sons and indomitable will, Clovis began a dynasty and set forth the law.  He was famed for his piety and a bloodthirsty nature ... yet few can say who he truly was ...

The Ax and the Vase creates and recreates Clovis’ story, his world, his fame - and his infamy.  It is the product of fascination, years of research, and the urgent need to understand and to tell this great, gripping story.

Yes:  please leave feedback if you would like to!

PROCESS: Version One

Clovis I came to the throne at fifteen, and came to fame vanquishing Rome’s power in Gaul.  He created his reputation - perhaps his legend - with an act of revenge so spectacular, the tale is told to this day.  At last, he built a dynasty by conquering even allies and killing his own kin.  Yet Clovis’ power was balanced on his faith in God ... and his religion was inspired by the love of the magnificent Queen Clotilde.

Clovis yearned, from his accession, for more than his father’s small kingdom.  His parents’ scandalous reputations had instilled in him both discipline and a deep desire for power, which became an ambition so great he would through battle, diplomacy, and deceit build what we now know as the nation of France.  His love of the Catholic Clotilde led him to conversion, which set the course of Europe for a thousand years.  With four sons and indomitable will, Clovis began a dynasty, he set forth the law; he was famed for his piety and a bloodthirsty nature ... yet few can say who he truly was ...

The Ax and the Vase creates and recreates Clovis’ story, his world, his fame - and his infamy.  It is the product of fascination, years of research, and the urgent need to understand, and to tell this great and gripping story.

Yes:  please leave feedback if you would like to!

Funniest Troi Line EVAR

Crusher:  (Watching as Lt. Barclay walks away)  He transformed into a spider, and now he has a disease named after him.

Troi:  I think I'd better clear my calendar for the next few weeks.

Go on, Deanna.  It took 'em six seasons, but they finally gave you a character to play.  Bravo!

Baked

Today I managed the United Way bake sale for my location.  For the first three hours or so, only one volunteer worked with me, but she was great and we took care of everything fine.  Sales were good, and we had a pretty huge variety of goodies to sell.  By the end, we had sold all but a very few items, and the tally of  donations was nothing I was ashamed to report for the event.

Cute Shoes helped out, too, and that was great.  She would make a great carnival barker - hee.  A hard sell, but friendly - and that's the way a charity bake sale should be run.  She's also just good company, so during a lull or two we poked away on our laptops and were able to spend a little time organizing, being encouraging about the progress, and getting along.

My back's been low-grade irritating me for a couple of weeks now, but at the end of the sale I was putting a chair away and heard the meat-grinding sound of a bad twist.  I couldn't stand back up straight for a few seconds, and was slow for the rest of the day (one of our security guards told me later she had seen me on the security cameras looking pretty bad - haha, thanks for the help!).  The idea to leave somewhat early to go ice the injury didn't work out quite as planned, between a massive traffic pileup (source for which was impossible to perceive by the time I passed through at last) and an unfortunate necessity to stop for something for dinner (pineapple upside-down cake wasn't on, heh).  But I'm here now, working on using up side 2 of the second large icepack in the freezer.  Bedtime, I expect, will be early tonight - and tonight is the night I don't have to end at 6:00 a.m. either.  So tomorrow, it's back to the office at last, for a normal Friday not to be spent waiting on a car, working from home.  It'll be pretty nice to get back to an ordinary Friday's work.

In the meantime, having had a proper supper - that pineapple upside-down cake is not half bad.

A Bit More Cleanliness

Is it obvious that for the past few days I'm not up to much commentary on my links?  So be it - but enjoy the links anyway.  Wash day in the 18th/19th centuries ...

One Billion Rising

This video is NOT easy to watch.

That is why you should.

Wordless honesty, and some beauty (I don't mean the physical kind) in three minutes which made *me* weep.

Thanks to Soraya Chemaly for sharing it (... though is there any irony in the vid closing on the FB page for One Billion Rising - when the post I have linked exposes the misogyny and violence of FB's policies - and, indeed, its very creation ... ?).

Medieval Air Museum?

Jeff Sypeck finds some of the most wonderful things, especially architectural.  And here we have another place I need to visit some time ...

Values and *Values*

This whole post from Eleanor Updale is good stuff, but the third act in particular strikes a chord with me.

Science Nerding

Not the first article I've run across this week about warp drive, but the first one I've stopped, read, and wanted to share!

...

Deforestation to delta on the Danube.  Thought environmental manipulation was a modern-era invention?  Think again!

Me

What makes me I fight to keep.

And in any case: denial and pretense seem to me antithetical to the power of forgiveness. If one fakes something away, it takes no courage nor care to accept its void. Living with life, with no substitutions to compromise what must be done with it, is the real power. Denying it is submission.

Finished

At 9:40 p.m. EST, at 132,596 words (almost 2k shy of the *highest* limit I'd hoped to allow myself in the end!), revisions on The Ax and the Vase are complete.  I have two small repairs to see to, one more scene I may yet delete, and one I think needs the *briefest* building - but the work is at ... satisfaction.

Woad You Blue

This is an engagingly discursive, informative, and rather poetic piece about:  woad.  A must-read if you are an ancient-Anglophile, if you are interested in the history of textile, self-decoration, botanical chemistry (or alchemy ...) and dyes.  Or, for that matter - if you're just a science nerd, happen to like indulgent writing in service of a narrowly particular but interesting subject ... or love the color blue.

I enjoyed this piece a great deal, hope you will too.  "Indican surrender" ... the writing is so very good.  Evocative.  The voice reminds me of my brother at his best.

Tracking

134,011

Getting Close

I'm so near the end of revisions it's impossible not to both dread restarting the querying process (and wishing I had kept even better records of the last run; though I do have a complete spreadsheet, it's high level and I won't remember some of the finer points which would enhance the process better) and get excited.

By accident of slowness and a lack of readers, and by design once I finally found my way without real help, the timing brings me to this point both almost exactly a year after the great response from Dream Agent and just weeks before the JRW Conference.  This time of year does energize me, the event always lights a fire, and the first (re-)query come after a lot of *good* work is done and when my online platform has, I hope seen much improvement.

My dad *loved* this time of year, too.  That always informs me, during these first, gorgeous autumnal weeks of change and one of the year's renewals, transitions.  Before winter grows grey, dry, cold - it is rich, bracing, vibrant.  And this year is magnificent so far.  He was a teacher, so this time of year was a birth, a beginning.  It is also the time of high holy days (for more than one religion - and for one I grew up so close to I was family).

As I hope and try to see the last of this summer's traumas and dramas, it is no accident I've set myself to a task with potential blessings.

Cute Shoes

Okay, first off - I held off as long as I could, but HOLY CRUD is the new Blogger interface awful.  And I don't just mean ugly - it's also glitchy as well.

Now that that's taken care of.  A post.

One of my better friends at work, we're going to have to call her Cute Shoes (though I am *still* learning how much more there is to her - hee), and I were chatting (instant messaging) yesterday.  After one too many Journey songs for me not to notice, we had this exchange.

D:  It is apparently Journey day on my slacker radio today

CS:  Only the Young would complain After All These Years that there is too much Journey. It's Too Late to change the station Feeling That Way you do. Where Were You earlier in the day when they were playing other bands. So you better Never Walk Away from slacker radio and listen with Open Arms and Don't Stop Believin' in Journey. 

I knew we were friends for other reasons than the shoes.  It just goes to show you - Star Wars nerds and Star Trek nerds *can* find common ground and get along ...

Summer's End

The day ran long today, and I realized as I stepped into the revolving door to walk outside, I had no idea whether to expect it to feel cool outside, or warm.

It being September here in the land between tidewater and piedmont, it was neither - and both, of course.

The humidity was enough to give a certain sensation of warmth - but also enough to keep heat from feeling penetrating.  It was dank and muggy at once, and the overcast sky did nothing to make the day feel steamy, but its stillness did nothing to chill the damp.

It won't be long before the needle falls to "cool" and heat will be the function of sunshine, of an odd afternoon, and evenings will be consistently crisp.  If we're more fortunate than last year, we will get cold - not just a little, but actual winter.  That would be immensely reassuring - and I know that is only asking for a haywire climate to go wild with sleet, and blizzards, and ugliness.  But 80-degree winters and 105-degree summers aren't natural around here.  Even a mass of snow would seem almost normal, after last year's tropical un-winter.