Ghosts of Nanos Past - 2009

Some old blog extracts...

 2009

I was a full-time manager once again. Hoping to fit in Nano to see if it was possible to not let that job overwhelm my personal life. (For context, the job didn't pay great. So having it overwhelm one's life... yeah that sucked.) Shifts at that job were all over the place, so sometimes I was getting up for a 6 AM shift, and other times finishing at 11 PM.

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Do men hate women?

Got feminisms on the mind lately. I've been thinking: Are there very many men who hate women? I feel like I haven't met many women-haters in my life. It came up in Caitlin Moran's book too--she thinks it's usually not about hate either. What do you guys think? (I know there are women who don't like other women--met plenty of those.)

Is it possible I just haven't met many of these men because, well let's face it, if a man hated women he wouldn't hang around a feminist like myself. I don't think I'm threatening at first glance, but I don't back down from bullies. In my experience men are often better at logic-based arguing, and use this to win arguments, especially against women. They haven't really won cause you can tell the other person isn't swayed, but she shuts up because she doesn't know how to debate.

I do know how to debate. I've been that person who accidentally steamrollers over other people's opinions, and I'm happy to pull out my skills on a fellow bulldozer. I enjoy myself. But I don't think women-haters care for bull-dozer fight scenes. So maybe there's this huge % of the population out there, running around hating women!

I think what's more likely is that men are confused. The roles of men and women have been changing a lot since the 60s (just watch Mad Men -- shudder) and they're still changing. As we continue to open up the boundaries of femininity and masculinity, how that relates to transvestites, transsexuals, people with both genitalia, etc. there's no sign of a new Masculinity, a new Femininity that we can all settle into. Well, that's the point right? We want to be regarded as Humans. We should be whatever the hell we want.

I guess I need to start asking men about this. I can have theories, but I'm not a dude.
   

Over-eating: It's the devil

Caitlin Moran on why even drug addicts look down on people woth eating disorders:

"Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that's why it's come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It's a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren't indulging in the 'luxury' of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn't inconvenience anyone."

Maybe this gets at the reason why everyone thinks over-eaters need to Just Stop Over-eating, while alcoholics etc. are "taken seriously" so to speak. Because in all other ways they appear (for want of a better word) "normal." Their lives aren't out of control, about to crash. You see this person who can run the whole family and hold down a job, so you don't feel the same sympathy as a drug addict who's life is breaking up.

Hmm. Interesting.

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The New Job

So, my new job.

I got hired in a full-time temporary position at a chain thrift store (one that funds a charity.) I had resigned myself to getting a retail job when I saw the posting--surprised cause I thought these places were run solely by volunteers.

Just as I was doing the orientation for the job, the hospital called me about a casual scheduling job. I did go for the testing, just in case--scored over 90% on a version of Office I've never used (one where they made big changes to the interface), on Excel, Word and whatever the email-calendar program is called, which I'd never used before. (My secret? Internets research of course! Plus being raised on computers, I guess.)

Anyway. That job is double minimum wage, though I would have been on-call I don't know how long. Plus hospitals are stressful places to work these days--cuts, cuts, cuts. Lots of bitter people. Still, I wasn't sure that I was right in choosing the thrift store. As I wandered the mall to buy jeans, steel toed boots, and orthotic liners, I finally had to sit on a bench and THINK. And in the end I thought about my job coach, and Holland's hexagon.

[click to enlarge more]

Of course we all have personality traits from all of these categories, but quizzing generally reveals a couple that take precedence. Since high school mine have always been artistic-social. Holland's idea is that you'll be most comfortable in jobs that hit your sweet spot; as your move to the left or right, you'll be progressively less comfortable, so that your "opposite" careers are more likely on the opposite side of the hexagon. In my case, conventional-realistic.

Retail peon falls within Social, and retail manager falls within Enterprising, which is why I was able to do the job but it wasn't a perfect fit. Hospital scheduler I'm fairly certain is Conventional. So I sat on the bench and thought: My job coach would predict that I'd be happier in the less-paying-thrift-store job.

On top of which it's for a charity, which appeals to my ethical side--something that also scores high on my personality tests. And as far as retail jobs go, it's pretty good. We're always closed Sundays and stat holidays, which means you can make plans in advance (my old job was open almost every day of the year). We're only open 9-5:30, which are my exact work hours (old job had shifts from 6 AM to 11 PM.) It's unionized. There are very few dress code rules (old job had a 3-page guide.) No ugly uniform.  And lots of interesting crap, if you like second hand stuff (as I do.)

Everyone I've met so far, at every store, is really nice. They train well, and they're easy-going with newbieness. There are no moody people--you know those people who walk around looking grumpy, at totally random times, and you don't want to ask them anything. My co-workers are really even tempered. They know all the regulars, joke with them, are kind to them. And the bosses give positive feedback.

At first I was trained on sorting, pricing and placing stuff. Now I'm on cash, where I think he might be leaving me. There's always work to do behind the cash, so the time goes fast; and the customers are cool. I'm on the same old fashioned cash I used when first trained at a mall bookstore! We don't do refunds, so it's all fairly simple. Plus, having done 15 years retail, I have a lot of self-confidence so I felt comfortable from day one.

So there you go. It's just above min wage (which thankfully is $10.25), but I've no complaints so far. I'm burning calories being on my feet all day, and the tootsies haven't killed me 'cause I bought Superfeet which ROCK. I'm also finding that, either because of my personal stress, or the headache drugs I take, I'm kind of scatter-brained. So I've realized it's good to be in a job where if I make a mistake it means placing a short-sleeved shirt in the long-sleeved section. Because you aren't purchasing inventory like in a regular store, there's less precision involved in everything--merchandising, pricing, putting stuff under the right category in the register, etc.

Okies. ...Sleepy now. Night!

To Nano or Not to Nano? That is the October question...

Every October writers across the land ask themselves: Should I do Nanowrimo this year?

I love Nanowrimo. For those not *in the know* it's National Novel Writing Month. A free online event where you sign up to say you'll try to write 50 000 words in one month. You "win" simply by completing. (You upload your book to their word count machine, so of course you could cheat. But why do that?)

My Nano profile (blue = participated, purple = won.) 

My brother first heard of it and we both successfully participated in 2002.

I later did 2008, 2009 and 2010. (I went back to school from Sep 2003 - May 2008. Can you tell?) I get excited every October when Nano talk is in the air. It feels like the coming of a holiday.

I'm not sure whether to join in this year. I've got a job now, so I can guilt-free spend the time writing. And it's the first time I've got regular hours, so I could, in theory, get enough sleep. No cats or husband to neglect (shniff).

Every year I get off to a late start and then write like a fool the second half of the month. Which is fun. But not recommended. I know I'm capable of writing 2000/day cause I did it this past spring when I joined JJJ's writing group. First time I wrote the equivalent of a Nanowrimo at an even pace.

Guess I should make the forum /blog rounds and see who else is participating, cause it would be my first Nano year actively involved with writerly pals. I know one frog who must be doing Nano... let's go check her blog... Yep! Good ole Miss Steps. She's a Nano queen.
     

I don't even know you, and I hate your guts

As usual I'm kind of all over the place with my reading. My dad and I need to read Brené Brown's books as research for a possible article, so I've just started I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't). Brown is a shame researcher.

A friend lent me Caitlin Moran's How to Be a Woman. She's a UK feminist who wrote this semi-memoir as a jumping point to discuss the topics she thinks women / feminists ought to be up in arms about these days.

And I'm a few chapters into Manning Marable's Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention. I read the Malcolm-Haley Autobiography years ago, and own the Spike Lee movie. Dude led a really interesting life.

Reading about Malcolm tonight reminded me of my favorite schtick from him: "Who taught you to hate yourself?" I love it because I think most of us can relate to it. Do you hate anything about yourself? Who taught you that? Who had the nerve to come along and tell you that "real men do This" or "sexiness means That" or "being an adult means This Other Thing"?

Which segues nicely into both the Brown and Moran books. Moran takes on things like women waxing their pubic hair. Who taught us that this is how a vagina is supposed to look? I remember being honestly surprised the first time a friend mentioned an appointment to go get waxed. In my head I thought: Really? This is what we're doing now? I went through a period in my 20s when I didn't shave my legs and my friend's boyfriend let me know--just being friendly--that most guys don't find that attractive. Uh duh. And also--who gives a flying fuck? For decades I've had people tell me I should wear make-up, they'd love to see me in make-up, etc. I know you don't mean to be telling me my face needs improving. But in essence you are saying: Your face needs improving.

No one taught me to hate myself, but it wasn't for lack of trying. 

I'm not far into Brown's book, but I think she's going to take this topic to a deeper level. Cause shame happens at this intersection between what we think of ourselves, and what others tell us we should think. I once spoke to someone about a tough decision they made for what they felt was their best, and they finished by saying: "Then once the decision was made, I had to face society, which was a whole other thing." It wasn't bad enough they had to go through personal shit--then they had to justify it to everyone else.

Lesson for the day: Leave the hating to the player haters.

"Buck Nasty, what can I say about say about your suit that hasn't already been said about Afganistan"

    

But I told you so!

Keith Urban is one of my favorite country singers. (And so cute! And Australian! And went through rehab and Nicole Kidman stood by him!)

This is one of my favorite songs--he's asking his gal to come back, and she doesn't have to say she's sorry, and he won't say "I told you so" (that they're better together.)

But what I love is that after singing all song long "and I won't say I told you so" at the end he sings: "But I told you so!"

So cute.

Well, Emily said hope perches in the soul and never stops singing

Coming home from Vancouver, we took a different ferry port--Horseshoe Bay. It's really beautiful.

This looks like fog on the window, but it's cloud sliding down the side of the mountain.

Passing an island with clouds pressing down on it.

Now I have a story for you. As I'm sure you've figured out, I'm going through some personal stuff this year that I can't talk about. And it got a bit worse maybe two weeks ago, so I've been battling The Depressions.* (Kinda like The Bubons but your heart gets stuffy rather than your nose.)

This weekend when I went to my mum's, The Depressions followed along, like that purple monster in the Weight Watchers ad. The Depressions Monster came again on the ferry ride back.

Sitting on the ferry you usually have one window you can look out (window 1)...



...and another you can see out if you turn backwards (window 2). I kept turning to look out window 2 so I could see the scenery coming up.

At one point I was looking out window 1 and feeling The Depressions slapping me around. I saw a seagull flying over the water, and I guess because it was a bird and water and I was on a boat I thought about the Noah's Ark story. I don't believe in it as a literal story, but when you're going through The Dark Night of the Soul you understand where these myths emerge from.

So I saw this gull and thought about Noah...



I thought about the idea of sending a bird out to find out if the flood was retreating. And I thought about the rainbow, and the promise that God wouldn't ever again destroy the f*ck out of all creation. It's a story about hope. Humans reassuring themselves that even though it sometimes feels like the world is coming to an end, it isn't really. It won't. And I thought--that's what I really, really need right now. Some hope. Any kind of hope. False hope. Snake oil hope. If a used car salesman was selling lemon hope, I would have bought it.

Then I turned again to look out window number 2. It had rained all day, but the sun was peeping out of the clouds as it was setting. I was half looking at the sun on the water, and half thinking about my problem.

Then I turned back to window 1, and there was a rainbow.

??

wtf!

I took a photo to prove it to you. You see it there? It was faint and lasted about ten minutes, til the sun went behind the clouds again.



Well this of course made me fricking weep. Not an Ugly Cry, cause I was in a public place--just some discreet swish-swish of the eyes. I appreciated the Universe talking to me so directly. Usually the Universe speaks in code and dense metaphors, but once in awhile it just talks. Like "There's land out there, just wait." Or "This feels like the end of the world. It isn't."

So I will try my best to maintain the Hope thing. Cause, having been given the rare gift of Clear Message, it would seem rude to ignore it.

This calls for a song! This is one of my top 10 songs of all time. This is a song like Stevie Nicks' "Landslide" where the lyrics are beautiful, but you can ignore them because the music is even more beautiful. The delicate guitar picking perfectly conjures up the feeling of being out on the water, and of seeing the sunlight sparkling on the waves. Anyway, it seemed like the right song for the moment. (I have, after all, run aground in a harbor town.)


 
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* See how I'm not internalizing The Depressions? Keeping Skye's post in mind.
   

Yes, I am saying this, AGAIN

Freaks and Geeks has appeared on Netflix! 

 

So it's time for me to push it again. It's about high school in the early 80s from the perspective of a group of freshmen nerds, and an older girl trying to fit in with the stoner bad kids.

OMFG I loved this show. When I met friends Maewitch and Onthatmidnightstreet, learning that each other loved this show was like a by-word for Great Taste. Our friendship was certain. The show starts off as just mild and amusing, but it gets funnier and deeper as it goes along. And the writers knew they were getting canned so they finished the season off with closure, and a brilliant--brilliant--game of Dungeons and Dragons featuring Carlos the Dwarf.

I even lent this show to my (ex) tough-guy Italian boss and he died over the episode where they play murder (dodge) ball in gym class, cause he was that asshole throwing really hard balls at the other kids. You will recognize yourself, your friends, your old schoolmates. You will love these characters. And with the storylines about being a geek, and bullying, it was really before it's time--I don't think it would have been cancelled today.

Also, before there was Napoleon Dynamite and Ellen Page and New Girl, there was another weirdo who accepted himself just as he was: Bill Haverchuck! Any guy who dresses us as the Bionic Woman for Halloween is my kinda guy.

And Jason Segel is painfully excellent as the Rush-loving-wannabe-drummer.

People Who Started Here:

Paul Feig, creator - later wrote for The Office and a bunch of other comedies, and directed Bridesmaids.

Judd Apatow, producer - Later produced/wrote/directed 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, etc. But don't worry, this isn't gross-out-comedy.

 

Puppydoodles, birdyloos and kittenatudes

Thu night: Once more on the ferry over to Vancouver. My mum's having her second knee replacement--the first one made a huuuge difference, so it'll be worth all that pain and physio again. I can only stay this weekend, though, to take care of the puppies and Mystry-boy while she's in the hospital. Then a friend is going to come bring food for two weeks.

Fri afternoon: I've been a bit out of the online loop cause I got a job. Not le dream job, it's retail; but among retail jobs, I think it'll be a good one. Will post about that later.

When I arrived at mum's and greeted the dogs last night, I said: Puppydoodles! Just like when I arrive at my parents' home I always say Birdyloos! Apparently I think a group of dogs is a puppydoodle, and a group of birds is a birdyloo. Of course a group of cats is a kittenatude.

Mystery-cat acted exactly like his old self when I arrived--nagging to be let up on the counter for his food, nagging to go outside, wanting to play feather stick, wanting back into the kitkat club. Although he's been better since Chino died, mum said this was his first full old annoying self reemergence. (I think I mentioned that he didn't eat for four days? He's lost weight, but luckily he was fat before.) So we now hypothesize that maybe his depression came because I left, and right after Chino got sick and died. He's known me for years, but those two months were the longest I've stayed with him.

Mystry on my lap, Eddie in background

So I'm glad I came. I don't think he'll be depressed when I leave, but will just have a reminder that I always come back.

In puppydoodle news: Yesterday my mother told Sassy that Auntie Terri was coming. She stuck up her ears and looked! at the front door. There are no flies on that kid!

Sassy sitting on my feet

In birdyloo news, they continue to grow more comfortable with me. Philea looks inclined to let me kissnher on the beak, I just haven't got up the nerve. And when I got home from work the other day she did her "you're home!" scream. I'm usually up before France now, so I let them out and give them some peanut butter, so maybe they like the new routine.

In house news, my mother's had one offer, thou presumably subject to the conditions being met. This being a foreclosure we don't always have the deets. She got the news yesterday, I believe AFTER I had just bought her a new lucky elephant. Elephants with the trunk up are good luck, and she has one by the couch but it broke not only it's trunk but one leg after another! So when we got 15 elephants of various shapes and sizes into my store (I'm at a thrift store) I chose a new one out for her.

Rocky

So that's the news. Goodnight.

 

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Writing Excuses Season 4: My fave episodes

My favorite casts of Writing Excuses season 4. These are all about 15 minutes, cause the tagline of the podcast is: "15 minutes, cause you're in a hurry, and we're not that smart!"

* Season 1 Faves here.

* Season 2 Faves here.

* Season 3 Faves here.

Types of Humor We manage to cover character-based humor, physical humor, and non-sequitur, brushing alongside cognitive humor and exaggeration as we go, but hey… we only had 15 minutes to work with.

Pacing with James Dashner We talk about reveals, punchlines, cliffhangers, chapter length, and the “Brandon Avalanche.” 

Breaking the Fourth Wall We talk about the theatrical origins of the term, and how the technique it represents might be used by authors and others....We also talk about when it would be absolutely, inarguably inappropriate to break the fourth wall.

Living with the Artist Beyond the fact that Sandra and Dawn are stay-at-home moms, and Kenny is a stay-at-home Dad, the three of them each have important roles to play in their spouses’ careers, and those roles go far beyond mere cheerleading and moral support. We talk about that, and then Sandra, Dawn, and Kenny offer advice to those who may find themselves as significant others to creative types.

Writing Practical Fantasy ...if you have an army of 1000 armored knights, you’d better have an economy and political system capable of producing and supporting them.

Mating Plumage Yes, we judge books by covers, and no, writers don’t have any control over them. We have a little more control of our titles, and still more over our first lines.  Humorous and tragic anecdotes follow, along with a great example of a first line from Barbara Hambly.

I'd be doing alright if...

For all their kitsch, a lot of Abba's songs had a lot of truth to them--like this one. Problems always seem worse at night. And, for me, first thing in the morning. No matter what the problem, all my life when I was upset about something I dreaded going to bed the most. And waking up didn't feel much better. (Shakespeare was wrong about that sleeve gag.)

By midday I'm alright, and in the evening I'm quite good. But if the desire to cry is going to finally overpower me, it'll be at lights out. I even remember that from childhood.

(Except when I'm on Topomax. Then it'll be in broad daylight at abusy intersection of Cote Vertu.)

 

 

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Best Writers' Rules (Part 3)

Michael Morpugo: By the time I sit down and face the blank page I am raring to go. I tell it as if I'm talking to my best friend or one of my grandchildren.

Andrew Motion: Let your work stand before deciding whether or not to serve.

Joyce Carol Oates: Keep a light, hopeful heart. But ­expect the worst.

Will Self: You know that sickening feeling of inadequacy and over-exposure you feel when you look upon your own empurpled prose? Relax into the awareness that this ghastly sensation will never, ever leave you.

Colm Tóibín: No going to London.

Rose Tremain: Forget the boring old dictum "write about what you know". Instead, seek out an unknown yet knowable area of experience that's going to enhance your understanding of the world and write about that.

Sarah Waters: Writing fiction is not "self-­expression" or "therapy". Novels are for readers, and writing them means the crafty, patient, selfless construction of effects. 

James Joyce: Write it damn you, what else are you good for?

And finally, from Shakespeare's Top Ten Rules O' Writing: If ye suffer from block, have your mistress take up the quill while you cane opium and give her daughter goodly tup. If ye be nabbed, claim research.

Best Writers' Rules (Part 2)

Helen Dunmore: Don't worry about posterity – as Larkin (no sentimentalist) observed "What will survive of us is love".

Geoff Dyer: Don't be one of those writers who sentence themselves to a lifetime of sucking up to Nabokov.

Anne Enright: If you had a terminal disease would you ­finish this book? Why not? The thing that annoys this 10-weeks-to-live self is the thing that is wrong with the book. So change it. Stop arguing with yourself. Change it. See? Easy. And no one had to die.

Richard Ford: Try to think of others' good luck as encouragement to yourself.

Jonathan Franzen: It's doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.

Esther Freud: Trust your reader. Not everything needs to be explained.

PD James: Open your mind to new experiences, particularly to the study of other ­people. Nothing that happens to a writer – however happy, however tragic – is ever wasted.

AL Kennedy: Have humility. Older/more ­experienced/more convincing writers may offer rules and varieties of advice. ­Consider what they say. However, don't automatically give them charge of your brain, or anything else – they might be bitter, twisted, burned-out, manipulative, or just not very like you.

Michael Moorcock: I always advise people who want to write a fantasy or science fiction or romance to stop reading everything in those genres and start reading everything else from Bunyan to Byatt.

Hilary Mantel: First paragraphs can often be struck out. Are you performing a haka, or just shuffling your feet?

Best Writers' Rules (Part 1)

I have done you a service and read a bunch of writing rules lists, and picked out the best ones. Not the best advice, mind you. Just the best rules. Sometimes it's a bit of classic advice, but well expressed. Other times it's the most entertaining. My favorite was this one from Henry Miller: Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing. It just appeals to my current attempt to live more in the present, be mindful etc.

Neil Gaiman: The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.)

Zadie Smith: ...try to read your own work as a stranger would read it, or even better, as an enemy would.

Susan Sontag: If I am not able to write because I’m afraid of being a bad writer, then I must be a bad writer. At least I’ll be writing.

John Steinbeck: Lose track of the 400 pages and write just one page for each day, it helps. Then when it gets finished, you are always surprised.

Jack Kerouac: Try never get drunk outside yr own house

Kurt Vonnegut: Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

Margaret Atwood: Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.

Elmore Leonard: Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.” …writers who use "suddenly" tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

Diana Athill: Cut (perhaps that should be CUT): only by having no ­inessential words can every essential word be made to count.

Roddy Doyle: Do spend a few minutes a day working on the cover biog – "He divides his time between Kabul and Tierra del Fuego." But then get back to work.


To be continued tomorrow.

Stop the madness

Here's some of the captcha codes I encountered on a blog round last week. (Captcha stands for Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart. Incidentally rhymes with "gotcha!")

Seriously, these things make my monkey crazy. The ones on Blogger are the worst.

If you don't want to drive your frogs mental, you can either (a) turn on moderation so you have to check the comments before posting them, or (b) accept the Anonymous computer spam and delete it. If the commenter isn't signed in, and signs with the name "Anonymous", Blogger will send them to you to decide whether to post or not, and anything else will go through. I have an email filter so they go into one folder, and then I automatically delete them all.

Captcha codes are devil's spawn, yo.