Molly Gloss

I attended an writing class/discussion from Molly Gloss last night. Its phenomenal to walk away from a class inspired. Also intimidated. In a good way.Here is an author who knows about describing things. She even can describe a characters emotions without saying so by changing word choices in the surrounding scene. Hard to convey what this means without reading her examples. A completely different style than some of the recent reads Ive completed. What I find awe striking, is the absolute beauty in knowing that language can have depth and meaning. We can communicate. And that some writers do care about craft and subtlety.

Memory

A famous author ( Reading Lolita in Tehran) notes she became obsessed with her parents photographs shortly after they died. She even studied them with a magnifying glass. I have also just finished reading an interesting biography. It made me think about the letters, diaries and papers we leave behind. Some in my extended family keep journals, perhaps for their descendants and maybe for self therapy. Ive never been able to keep one going for more than a few days. Maybe I loose interest in what I have to say. But in thinking about what I might end up leaving behind, I speculate, what would anyone want to know about me? I have no direct descendants. I have a lovely step daughter who will likely be much more occupied with her own children. I have extended family who will also be much more interested in their inner family works.And yet, in my family tree I have researched a woman who had no children of her own but took care of several nieces and nephews and her mother. She seems like the matriarch of her family. She left behind no known letters. I do wonder what she cared about. What she longed for. What she thought regarding her political times. She lived very near the Morman site of Navoo. Her neighborhood was the site for some atrocities. The Civil War swept through her state. Did she have time to read. Did she hate beets? Another woman's story I recently read about (Bold Spirit) survived not because of what she left behind (her children burned her memoir out of misguided anger)but because her later descendants were trying to remember her and find out about her.
I find it a touch sad too that we think we know one another. And maybe we do. Our foibles are so exposed in close contact. Bad habits , we can be kinder about with the distance of time and lost immediacy.
So, for future great grand neices et al: I hate beets, because they are purple and slimy. I love sweets because they are buttery. I like books because I can go somewhere else and gain insight. I like historical things for the same reason. I like old furniture because the wood echoes some sentiment from the tree where it once grew and the persons who might have occupied it some rainy afternoon. I dont like mechanical things as they seem so cold, although I value their function and the ease they bring to my life. Im interested in politics because of people and ideas not so much for the need to bend peoples will. I find it irritating that people cant debate earnestly without resorting to rhetoric that they really havent explored. I see great sadness in the waste of life to pursue material things, though we all like them. I toss about the idea frequently that we all are off the track, when we arent using whatever talents we may have toward the benefit of all....thought I cant figure out how we must turn to that and leave our self (ego) aside. I like mashed potatoes. I like sunflowers. I like rivers and walking on the beach. I like thinking about all my relatives growing up and becoming "someone". I like cats.

Words

I apologize to any who might try to follow my thoughts in this forum. The problem lies in that I have no message. I think things in an endless stream. I contemplate and reject a zillion ideas. I find great interest in many of the happenings in the world. When I start to write coherent thoughts go out the window like a grain of sand in a sandstorm.
I now understand my ancestors who didn't leave behind a diary as they "had nothing to say". I dont believe that I have nothing to say but I question its importance, particularly in the cyber world.
Im reading a wonderful book, the biography of EB White. He wrote Charlottes Web and a few other famous childrens books, but for many years he wrote for the The New Yorker magazine. The point is he wrote in this wonderful concise language. Its the first time in a long while that Ive admired a style, the use of language in a writers message. Being under educated in the mechanics of writing, and admittedly not too interested in the technical details of proper grammer, it is this I lack. The way of the word.There are words in his biography I've never heard of. Things I have to look up. How exciting to find words with depth. Words to explore. Im also reading the biographical account of the life of Roget of Roget's Thesauras. Who knew. Personally,I think he must have had OCD. But who am I to question the outcome.
So, poor bored reader...I search for a way to bring you a coherent and interesting message.I havent found it yet.

Writing in your sleep

Does anyone else dream in novels? After I'm done fretting about everything else in my day I set about going to sleep by imagining a plot for a book. But I always forget most of it when I wake up. I just dont wake up enough to keep one of those bedside notepads. And sometimes as Im writing in my sleep, I think sort of loudly...man that was great... they might even publish this....if only I could remember it when I wake!
I know my heroine's name last night was Bryn Allison. And the chapter starts like this....
Bryn Allsion was average. Average brown hair. Average funny. Average job. Until she stepped out the door of the coffee house on her way to work and got hit by a plane. Not your average bus. An airplane. Now that wasnt average.
Ok. So plot one the pilot has actually made this skilled and careful emergency landing avoiding everyone but Bryn. Of course he's handsome and etc etc...romance et al.
Or as she awakens on an alien planet. Turns out humans who die arent in heaven they get transported....sci fi plot.
I didnt say they were good novels! Sheez! Sometimes they are fantastic. But those usually involve murder and blood and get way to complicated and I wake myself up all scared and have to think of milkshakes or something to get back to sleep.
I keep going back to the premise you are supposed to write about what you know. Which is a whole lot a nuttin. Medical novels are passe'. Killing off your patients isnt very good PR either. And working out your family issues in public never appealed to me. So, romance/sci-fi it is.
I kind of like the heaven plot. Most of us stop at the you get to go to heaven part. What then? Hang out on clouds? Ho Hum. I suppose you could spend a good while meeting the ancesters. That would be fun for awhile. Unless they were cranky.Or none of your people made it "up there". What would you do with unlimited energy and time.Everones fine so you cant go be heroic. Heaven seems kind of hedonistic from that view. Hmmm. Too literal I guess.
Well, off to bed to dream up a new plot.

Holy Forcast Frosty!

It looks like we are really going to have winter this year. Our local forcast is for snow, cold, snow, snow and some more cold snow.Brrrr. Just hope our trusty little house keeps working. At work, our Aide's pipes burst...and there is so little hope of a thaw. I cant imagine the diffficulty.
Rod and I once spent a chilly night under the sleeping bags in our old home when the power went out. The cats crawed in. But my nose was cold. What the heck did those pioneers do anyway. The dreariest book I ever read was about a pioneer woman in the Olympic Mtns during winter. All that cold and damp just came out of those pages and was deeeee pressing.
So Ive had these dreams lately. Im writing. You know, the great American Novel thing. But I cant work it through the concept. I have the idea but cant work past the beginning. I fall too deeply asleep! Rats.
Well, hope all your packages and cards are mailed ( mine arent!) but I just cant worry about it this year!

What a layover in writing! Im like many who think we have nothing to say but all day every day my head is crammed with stuff and ideas and random thoughts. So guess what! My fellow one or two folks who pull stuff off the ethereal net...you get the benefit of my "stuff" today.
Christmas is a funny time especially if you're not the church type. I love all the Santa trimmings and the unparralled depth of music especially some of the high ranging triumphant religious works. I love the tree lightings and small town Christmas parades and the expectation lighting up the eyes of kids. I love the pretty wrapping paper and the food. HHmmmm, the food! I hate not being able to find just the right gift and thinking I should put more effort into it. I vaguley dislike wrapping. I can never get the bows just so. I sure do like opening though!
Why is it that I can think of 20 things I wouldnt mind opening on Christmas morning but Im danged if I can come up with even one spectacular item for my husband. He is a computer geek. A techno guy. A lover of all thats microchipped and multifunctional. None of which I understand, or can stand or want to do anything but stand on. What's wrong with on and off or up and down, I say. I digress.
What to get the love of your life who has every gadget already. Who has enough socks, and robes and CDs and tools? Mind you this is a man whose favorite jacket is this accidently shrunken red plaid farmers fake lambs wool piece. He never met a ball cap with a logo on it he didnt like. A fellow with 200 T shirts.Who after wearing slacks and tie in the office for 30 years now refuses to even wear socks. What to do??Even a lump of coal however undeserved aint original.
So Im left present challenged. Defeated by scads of ads with no hope of the coolest deal on earth...just the right gift.I wish there was a real Santa to whom I could appeal!

Enthusiasm

I was thinking of what life should be about. Why we bother. How to get through the days. At first I thought of the word Inspiration. The always thought provoking Faith. But I finally settled on Enthusiasm. The original meaning took me by surprise. Something about inspired by God. There was even an ancient Syrian sect called "Enthusiasts". But what I was after was the root of making things better. We can slog or drag through our days whining along the road. Or we can use enthusiasm.
It started because I read a bulletin from a group of which I am a member. Normally, I delete the National bulletins before ever getting around to reading them like all good group members.But this time I read it. It was inspiring. There are folks out there even from my home state and local groups taking the extra step to participate. And what happens when you participate can generate enthusiasm for mundane meetings and tasks in others.
So, a glow of enthusiasm lit upon me. And I got to thinking how much energy just being enthused can bring.
Yesterday we made a little trip out of town with friends to look at some fancy motorcycles.My hubby hasn't been feeling well with his cold/flu. He has been a bit depressed in general. But by the end of the day with all of us projecting enthusiasm..he liked it!! He said thanks for making him go. And I thought, if we could start our days with projecting a bit of positive enthusiasm for our tasks....we could inspire a few people along the way. Sometimes that ripple might reach someone unexpected. Make a real difference. So different than projecting doom and gloom and negativity. Hmmmm.