Elizabeth Moon's Blog, page 13
May 9, 2015
A Saturday Night Supper
Very simple. I chopped up an onion, a carrot, and some celery, sauteed them in a big oval Dutch oven, laid chicken thighs on top of the vegetables, seasoned with salt, pepper, a spice mix I like, some herbs I like, added a bay leaf, and poured in a big can of Ro-tel, then added just enough water to mostly cover the chicken. Let it simmer while the oven heated up to 350F and put the pot in the oven. When the chicken pieces internal temperature was 160F, I turned the oven down to 200, and put the rice on to cook. Served the chicken, vegetables, and juice on top of piles of rice. I had one thigh, others had more.
May 5, 2015
Humbling Socks
These socks have earned the name "Humbling Socks" because they've certainly taken my sock design-and-making ego down several pegs. Not just the color thing, but the sudden failure of a familiar, much-used yarn up in the ribbing while I was working on the foot, and the discovery of several slack holes in the bottom of the second sock which I hope aren't more yarn failures. But they're done. Off the needles. Here they are on my feet, before I had woven in any of the yarn tails.
This is the first time I've made socks with completely matching stripes...and there are ten different yarns in these socks. The old gold color (Bernat Sesame yarn about 50 years old) did last out the pair, but there's not much of it left. I wasn't sure it would be enough when I started the toe of the second sock. But there's enough for a (very) few stripes on future socks. (It's really more mustard color.) What's left of that yarn will be put in a sack with others of the same brand that have only a smidgen left.
That many yarns means a lot of yarn tails. Time will be spent today weaving in the shaggy manes:
And fixing any weak spots I find, mostly along the bottom where I changed color or failed to "anchor" a join at the end of a row.
This is the second of seven pairs of shorty socks I have planned for this year. As always, they will be mostly yarn leftover from other socks (or, in the case of my mother's stash, other projects--that mustard-old-gold yarn was leftover from a cardigan she knit me when I was in college.)
This is the first time I've made socks with completely matching stripes...and there are ten different yarns in these socks. The old gold color (Bernat Sesame yarn about 50 years old) did last out the pair, but there's not much of it left. I wasn't sure it would be enough when I started the toe of the second sock. But there's enough for a (very) few stripes on future socks. (It's really more mustard color.) What's left of that yarn will be put in a sack with others of the same brand that have only a smidgen left.
That many yarns means a lot of yarn tails. Time will be spent today weaving in the shaggy manes:
And fixing any weak spots I find, mostly along the bottom where I changed color or failed to "anchor" a join at the end of a row.
This is the second of seven pairs of shorty socks I have planned for this year. As always, they will be mostly yarn leftover from other socks (or, in the case of my mother's stash, other projects--that mustard-old-gold yarn was leftover from a cardigan she knit me when I was in college.)
May 4, 2015
On "Being a Woman"
While I have been mostly delighted with the Makers series on women in many fields, intended to encourage girls and women, the sponsors do tend to recycle the same quotes from interviews over and over...and one of those quotes, by Diane von Furstenberg, bothers me. Disclaimer: I don't know von Furstenberg, and neither like nor dislike her personally. I know she is a famous fashion designer and successful businesswoman--I have nothing against either choice of career. But when she talked, in the interview, about the importance of remembering to be a woman, I winced. I winced because to me that's another attempt to define--and to limit--what "being a woman" is, as opposed to being an adult female human being.
In the hasty tweets I wrote this morning, I made one mistake, in equating being born with two X chromosomes as permanently determining gender identity. There are cases of intersex infants, and of persons who have extreme gender dysphoria and despite having the XX chromosomes, feel that they are not women, but men. For people like that, XX does not mean "woman" in any social sense.
But for me--as a woman with XX chromosomes who is OK with being designated female--the problem is largely with the cultural definitions of "woman" that exclude some women by insisting that a "real" or "proper" woman fits into a narrow definition of behaviors appropriate to her sex. This, it feels like, is what von Furstenberg meant. "Never forget you are a woman" or "Never forget to be a woman" is tied to a cultural definition of what a woman is, not the biological one. It is tied to conventions of femininity: what a woman wears, from hair and makeup right through the colors and fabric of her clothing down to her shoes...appropriate choices of occupation, hobbies, interests, opinions. It is specifically intended to divide humans into two different genders, not on the basis of biology but on the basis of culture.
The admonition to "remember that you are a woman" presumes that a woman can forget her own body, manage not to notice that she has breasts (or the scars where they were), that she has no penis, that she has (or once had) a uterus and ovaries. The admonition to "be a woman" presumes that a woman can be anything else (without, in the case of persons with gender dysphoria, going through long and difficult transition.) I'm 70, past menopause, but I still have plenty of daily reminders that my age-spotted female body is the not the same as my husband's age-spotted male body. And since I was strongly enculturated from infancy with my biological sex and what it meant culturally, I am unlikely to forget that I'm a woman and how society as a whole has, and still does, view women. I don't forget--I can't forget--that I'm a woman, because my nose has been rubbed in the fact from day one.
But...what is "being a woman?" The world is full of women who are very different from one another. Tall women are women. Short women are women. There are women with every color of skin, every color of hair, every color of eyes. Skinny women. Fat women. Rich women. Poor women. Women who have children. Women who do not have children. Women who enjoy sex. Women who don't enjoy sex. Educated women. Uneducated women. Athletic women. Unathletic women. Women who follow fashion. Women who don't follow fashion. Women acknowledged as beautiful. Women acknowledged as plain or ugly. Urban women. Country women. Suburban women. Women for whom a day at a spa is a delight; women for whom a day digging up artifacts is a delight; women for whom going to a party is a delight, women for whom climbing mountains, or knitting socks, or making bread, or running a business, or flying airplanes, or cleaning house is a delight. Women who like variety in their life; women who like regularity in their life. All women live their lives--whatever they are--"being a woman." They cannot, without transitioning to another sex, live their lives as anything but women. So everything that any woman has done, or does, or will do, is part of what "being a woman" means. Attempts to define "being a woman" with some list of what women do/like/want and don't do/don't like/don't want always defines some women as "not really women." Yet they are alive; they have the XX chromosomes, they have the breasts, the uterus, the ovaries (or the scars where these were removed.) How are they not "real women?" What is "un-real" about them? Nothing.
The fact is that there's a huge overlap in the abilities and natural interests of humans of all sexes. The most important parts of our biology unite, not divide, the sexes. Women do not need any reminders to "be a woman" or remember that they are women...women know that. They've always known that. What they need is encouragement to remember that they have a self, and to be themselves, whether that matches someone's cultural notion of "real womanhood" or not. Because every woman is a real woman. She cannot be anything else.
And that's why what von Furstenberg said in the interview, and the quote that keeps showing up in Makers Twitter posts, bothers me. It feels to me like an attempt to nudge women into paying attention to, caring about, obeying the rules that von Fursterberg believes define "being a [real] woman."
In the hasty tweets I wrote this morning, I made one mistake, in equating being born with two X chromosomes as permanently determining gender identity. There are cases of intersex infants, and of persons who have extreme gender dysphoria and despite having the XX chromosomes, feel that they are not women, but men. For people like that, XX does not mean "woman" in any social sense.
But for me--as a woman with XX chromosomes who is OK with being designated female--the problem is largely with the cultural definitions of "woman" that exclude some women by insisting that a "real" or "proper" woman fits into a narrow definition of behaviors appropriate to her sex. This, it feels like, is what von Furstenberg meant. "Never forget you are a woman" or "Never forget to be a woman" is tied to a cultural definition of what a woman is, not the biological one. It is tied to conventions of femininity: what a woman wears, from hair and makeup right through the colors and fabric of her clothing down to her shoes...appropriate choices of occupation, hobbies, interests, opinions. It is specifically intended to divide humans into two different genders, not on the basis of biology but on the basis of culture.
The admonition to "remember that you are a woman" presumes that a woman can forget her own body, manage not to notice that she has breasts (or the scars where they were), that she has no penis, that she has (or once had) a uterus and ovaries. The admonition to "be a woman" presumes that a woman can be anything else (without, in the case of persons with gender dysphoria, going through long and difficult transition.) I'm 70, past menopause, but I still have plenty of daily reminders that my age-spotted female body is the not the same as my husband's age-spotted male body. And since I was strongly enculturated from infancy with my biological sex and what it meant culturally, I am unlikely to forget that I'm a woman and how society as a whole has, and still does, view women. I don't forget--I can't forget--that I'm a woman, because my nose has been rubbed in the fact from day one.
But...what is "being a woman?" The world is full of women who are very different from one another. Tall women are women. Short women are women. There are women with every color of skin, every color of hair, every color of eyes. Skinny women. Fat women. Rich women. Poor women. Women who have children. Women who do not have children. Women who enjoy sex. Women who don't enjoy sex. Educated women. Uneducated women. Athletic women. Unathletic women. Women who follow fashion. Women who don't follow fashion. Women acknowledged as beautiful. Women acknowledged as plain or ugly. Urban women. Country women. Suburban women. Women for whom a day at a spa is a delight; women for whom a day digging up artifacts is a delight; women for whom going to a party is a delight, women for whom climbing mountains, or knitting socks, or making bread, or running a business, or flying airplanes, or cleaning house is a delight. Women who like variety in their life; women who like regularity in their life. All women live their lives--whatever they are--"being a woman." They cannot, without transitioning to another sex, live their lives as anything but women. So everything that any woman has done, or does, or will do, is part of what "being a woman" means. Attempts to define "being a woman" with some list of what women do/like/want and don't do/don't like/don't want always defines some women as "not really women." Yet they are alive; they have the XX chromosomes, they have the breasts, the uterus, the ovaries (or the scars where these were removed.) How are they not "real women?" What is "un-real" about them? Nothing.
The fact is that there's a huge overlap in the abilities and natural interests of humans of all sexes. The most important parts of our biology unite, not divide, the sexes. Women do not need any reminders to "be a woman" or remember that they are women...women know that. They've always known that. What they need is encouragement to remember that they have a self, and to be themselves, whether that matches someone's cultural notion of "real womanhood" or not. Because every woman is a real woman. She cannot be anything else.
And that's why what von Furstenberg said in the interview, and the quote that keeps showing up in Makers Twitter posts, bothers me. It feels to me like an attempt to nudge women into paying attention to, caring about, obeying the rules that von Fursterberg believes define "being a [real] woman."
May 2, 2015
Socks and Photography
I'm knitting another pair of shorty socks, this time using more of my mother's stash of Bernat's "Sesame" yarn (they don't make it anymore: 100% wool, lovely feel, came in "pull skeins" neatly wrapped into narrow plastic sacks with a little device that let you pull the yarn out through the hole with no tangling, permanently mothproofed. Some of this yarn was leftover from one of my college cardigans (old-gold), some was leftover from a pair of sock-slippers (Dapple Bronze), and one small ball was from something else (my mother's own projects--sort of a dark salmon color.) These yarns were bought in the 1960s. I combined these three yarns with two Cascade 220 superwash yarns left over from making socks ("Lake Chelan," a green-blue and a purple whose name I've lost), one Cascade 220 yarn (white) bought for striping, one Ella rae Classic superwash yarn (turquoise) and one Ella rae classic yarn left over from making socks (dark teal blue) and one Plymouth Yarns "Galway Nep" (dark rose with yellow, blue, orange-red, and green flecks.) To me, indoors while knitting, the "Lake Chelan" was definitely green; the socks I'd made from it had become greener (a soft bluish-grayish green) with the years.
So, with one on the toe decreases and one past the first two colored stripes, I took them outside to photograph and show off.
This is not the color relationship I thought I was getting while I was knitting. It's not one I would have tried for. Granted, the Lake Chelan stripes did look more gray-blue than green-blue in the sunlight, but not quite that gray. And the "framing" old gold didn't look so much like "free-range eggyolks". The former dull salmon had become bright orange, really screaming at the rose. The dark teal (narrow stripe within the middle Lake Chelan stripe--next to a purple stripe which hardly shows at all.)
So I brought them back inside and tried again. This is on the chair in my study, with a combination of strong LED lights in two colors, some green-cast shade daylight coming in the top of the window and the camera's own flash.
Worse egg-yolk yellow "old gold yarn" but the turquoise better & salmon less garish. The Lake Chelan shows a little why I think of it as green. The dark teal looks like a cobalt blue; the purple stripe below it and the dappled bronze below the purple have melted together in color.
So I took them to the kitchen and tried again. There I had the top light on (LED bulbs inside a white ceiling fixture) the hood light over the stove, a slight influence of daylight from the kitchen window, and the camera flash. And when that didn't work much better, fiddled with the color balance and histogram adjustment until I got something remotely right for the old gold color (it's actually a tad brighter.) But now the turquoise looks more blue and attempts to lighten it overall didn't improve anything much except that the white looked more white.
I have had trouble photographing yarn before, especially greens. Especially my favorite emerald green, a lovely saturated cool green that comes out looking anemic and bluer than I see it. This turquoise, which is a good medium turquoise, a color that everyone calls turquoise, photographs bluer than it is, often looking like a robin's egg blue or light sky blue. But my jeans don't. That blue towel in the second picture didn't. I think it must be an effect of the dye used on the wool. I swear that these socks look better in real life (in terms of colors) than they do in the pictures, any of the pictures, but they'd be better if the Lake Chelan were greener. In my opinion.
But now I'm not nearly as happy with the socks as I was. Maybe I should only wear tham at night or indoors.
So, with one on the toe decreases and one past the first two colored stripes, I took them outside to photograph and show off.
This is not the color relationship I thought I was getting while I was knitting. It's not one I would have tried for. Granted, the Lake Chelan stripes did look more gray-blue than green-blue in the sunlight, but not quite that gray. And the "framing" old gold didn't look so much like "free-range eggyolks". The former dull salmon had become bright orange, really screaming at the rose. The dark teal (narrow stripe within the middle Lake Chelan stripe--next to a purple stripe which hardly shows at all.)
So I brought them back inside and tried again. This is on the chair in my study, with a combination of strong LED lights in two colors, some green-cast shade daylight coming in the top of the window and the camera's own flash.
Worse egg-yolk yellow "old gold yarn" but the turquoise better & salmon less garish. The Lake Chelan shows a little why I think of it as green. The dark teal looks like a cobalt blue; the purple stripe below it and the dappled bronze below the purple have melted together in color. So I took them to the kitchen and tried again. There I had the top light on (LED bulbs inside a white ceiling fixture) the hood light over the stove, a slight influence of daylight from the kitchen window, and the camera flash. And when that didn't work much better, fiddled with the color balance and histogram adjustment until I got something remotely right for the old gold color (it's actually a tad brighter.) But now the turquoise looks more blue and attempts to lighten it overall didn't improve anything much except that the white looked more white.
I have had trouble photographing yarn before, especially greens. Especially my favorite emerald green, a lovely saturated cool green that comes out looking anemic and bluer than I see it. This turquoise, which is a good medium turquoise, a color that everyone calls turquoise, photographs bluer than it is, often looking like a robin's egg blue or light sky blue. But my jeans don't. That blue towel in the second picture didn't. I think it must be an effect of the dye used on the wool. I swear that these socks look better in real life (in terms of colors) than they do in the pictures, any of the pictures, but they'd be better if the Lake Chelan were greener. In my opinion. But now I'm not nearly as happy with the socks as I was. Maybe I should only wear tham at night or indoors.
April 30, 2015
"Coffee with the Author" podcast from April 16
Here's the link to the interview with Jennifer Stayton of KUT...we had fun. I wish I hadn't started with a frog in my throat, but at least it wasn't a BIG frog and I didn't start coughing uncontrollably.
http://www.stdave.podcastpeople.com/posts/60585
It was a fun situation all around and I was glad to see the people who were able to come. I wish the weather hadn't been threatening so we could sit outside, but everything else was perfect.
http://www.stdave.podcastpeople.com/posts/60585
It was a fun situation all around and I was glad to see the people who were able to come. I wish the weather hadn't been threatening so we could sit outside, but everything else was perfect.
April 28, 2015
Sentimental Socks
It's April 28. If my mother were still alive, she would be 102. Last year my father died a couple of months before his 102nd birthday. For some reason that made it important for me to finish a pair of socks today since she was a fantastic knitter, much better than I'll ever be.
Last year, when I found her workbag with a pair of socks for herself started...I felt compelled to finish them (though they would not fit me) and find a home for them, which I did. And then another pair, using her old acrylic/wool blend yarn, for the same friend. And then this pair, thinking of her and hurrying to finish it by, or on, her birthday. It felt right to finish them and get them on my feet today.
This is the fourth pair of socks I've started and finished this year. It's been heavily cloudy all day, and the lights in the kitchen (a mix of LED lights + my flash, plus trying to match colors in my photo-software isn't as good a look as it would've been taking a picture in sunlight outside, but--these are a mix of warm reds, brown, sort of a dull peach/orange. On my own I'd have named them Firecoal, but the yarn is Mountain Colors "Ruby River" colorway. A local yarn store (a distance away but no yarn stores are really local!) was promoting Mountain Colors yarns last year for a store project, and I bought enough yarn for three pairs of socks. This is the second I've made up. The other was the Indian Paintbrush colorway, and here's a comparison with left foot in Ruby River and right foot in Indian Paintbrush (and some serious tinkering with histogram adjustment.)
I have a lot of socks to knit this year to replace those that wore out, are about to wear out, and otherwise vanished from my sock drawer. Plus the gift socks I'm committed to knitting. My mother told me about her father's (annoying to her as a teenager) "While you're resting..." which meant "While you're resting, do something else useful." But my mother accomplished a heckuva lot while she was still alive, and when she was sitting down "resting" she was usually doing something useful. Sewing, knitting, crochet, mending something. It's going to take that commitment to meet my sock goals for the year--but I've made a good start. Socks in progress will go with me everywhere.
Last year, when I found her workbag with a pair of socks for herself started...I felt compelled to finish them (though they would not fit me) and find a home for them, which I did. And then another pair, using her old acrylic/wool blend yarn, for the same friend. And then this pair, thinking of her and hurrying to finish it by, or on, her birthday. It felt right to finish them and get them on my feet today.This is the fourth pair of socks I've started and finished this year. It's been heavily cloudy all day, and the lights in the kitchen (a mix of LED lights + my flash, plus trying to match colors in my photo-software isn't as good a look as it would've been taking a picture in sunlight outside, but--these are a mix of warm reds, brown, sort of a dull peach/orange. On my own I'd have named them Firecoal, but the yarn is Mountain Colors "Ruby River" colorway. A local yarn store (a distance away but no yarn stores are really local!) was promoting Mountain Colors yarns last year for a store project, and I bought enough yarn for three pairs of socks. This is the second I've made up. The other was the Indian Paintbrush colorway, and here's a comparison with left foot in Ruby River and right foot in Indian Paintbrush (and some serious tinkering with histogram adjustment.)
I have a lot of socks to knit this year to replace those that wore out, are about to wear out, and otherwise vanished from my sock drawer. Plus the gift socks I'm committed to knitting. My mother told me about her father's (annoying to her as a teenager) "While you're resting..." which meant "While you're resting, do something else useful." But my mother accomplished a heckuva lot while she was still alive, and when she was sitting down "resting" she was usually doing something useful. Sewing, knitting, crochet, mending something. It's going to take that commitment to meet my sock goals for the year--but I've made a good start. Socks in progress will go with me everywhere.
April 24, 2015
Sock Knitting Progress Report
It's been a good year for knitting so far. I've finished five pairs of socks, though two were started in 2014 (one in October, one in November) and delayed by my decision to finish the socks my mother had started for a friend 1500 miles away. So that's three pairs started in 2015 and finished in 2015, and another one nearing completion...I'm over halfway down the feet of both socks. And it's not like there haven't been interruptions--I haven't been able to knit every day. Pictures behind the cut.
Left: Herdwick wool, 2nd pair (red stripe), started October 2014, finished mid-February 2015
Right: Ella rae Classic wool, started February 6 and finished March 7, 2015
No image of turquoise pair started November 2014 and finished February 2015
Left: "Fabulend" Orlon/wool blend yarn (old yarn) made for friend in upstate NY
Right: Wool shorty socks made from combination of leftover yarn and yarn bought for striping.
Yarn brands: Ella rae Classic, Ella rae Classic Superwash, Cascade 220
Early image of pair now more than halfway down the foot.
Yarn is Mountain Colors "Ruby River"
I have a lot more iknitting to do this year. I need at least six more pairs of the shorty socks, six pairs of regular socks (to replace worn out ones) and should do a couple of pairs for friends. In theory, I can do two shorty pairs a month or one regular pair a month (that, and do the other stuff I have to do, like finishing this book and starting another plus other contracted work) but we'll see.
Left: Herdwick wool, 2nd pair (red stripe), started October 2014, finished mid-February 2015
Right: Ella rae Classic wool, started February 6 and finished March 7, 2015
No image of turquoise pair started November 2014 and finished February 2015
Left: "Fabulend" Orlon/wool blend yarn (old yarn) made for friend in upstate NY
Right: Wool shorty socks made from combination of leftover yarn and yarn bought for striping.
Yarn brands: Ella rae Classic, Ella rae Classic Superwash, Cascade 220
Early image of pair now more than halfway down the foot.
Yarn is Mountain Colors "Ruby River"
I have a lot more iknitting to do this year. I need at least six more pairs of the shorty socks, six pairs of regular socks (to replace worn out ones) and should do a couple of pairs for friends. In theory, I can do two shorty pairs a month or one regular pair a month (that, and do the other stuff I have to do, like finishing this book and starting another plus other contracted work) but we'll see.
April 21, 2015
"Summer Beach" shorty socks
The "Summer Beach" pair of striped shorty socks have had some problems here and there, but overall I'm happy with them. They're to the same basic pattern as my other short socks, but this time combine two yarns leftover from regular socks and two yarns purchased for striping. They're shown very incomplete in an April 1 post (Socks, Incomplete) and here they are off the needles and on my feet. Not yet complete, since a lot of the stripe yarn ends are still not woven in, but I couldn't resist showing them.
I like the effect of the "sand" colored yarn, Cascade 220 color #9600, in the middle of the foot. I'm still not sure of the color number for the cream/white yarn, but it's also Cascade 220. The turquoise and the dark teal are both leftover yarn from the "big" socks. I have very little of the teal left. And now to weave in all those shaggy yarn ends. The next pair to be finished are the Ruby River socks.
I like the effect of the "sand" colored yarn, Cascade 220 color #9600, in the middle of the foot. I'm still not sure of the color number for the cream/white yarn, but it's also Cascade 220. The turquoise and the dark teal are both leftover yarn from the "big" socks. I have very little of the teal left. And now to weave in all those shaggy yarn ends. The next pair to be finished are the Ruby River socks.April 20, 2015
The Writing Life: When the Story Stalls
Sometimes a book stalls because the writer's done something that derailed it, or didn't do something to keep it going. I experience stall-effect in the middle of almost every book, so now I expect it (hope it won't appear, but am not panicky when it does.) Doesn't mean I've lost my talent, can't write again, have utterly failed, etc, etc. It's a part of the way my brain interacts with Story-space, and it means some serious work (not wishful thinking) to figure out what I did or did not do *this* time.
Well, this time what I did was go blasting ahead where I knew things were going, trailing a cloud of necessary secondary characters for whom I'd produced some minimal background. They were holding me back, when I started the book, so I wrote ahead of my understanding of them. I start books in a rush--need to get into them quickly, well in, before coming up for air and thought. And then came to the point where all these secondary characters basically sat there, a row of plastic dolls, for me to move around in Story-space. Only that's not acceptable. Secondaries are not puppets; they need to be seen and felt to be acting out of their own reasonable motivations. "Why won't you DO things?" I asked. Little glass eyes stared back.
When I first started writing, a character turning from live to plastic scared me a lot. I hadn't developed any tools to do anything but toss out that one and make up another. Experience is a big help, if and only if I don't let the fear take hold ("I'm getting old now...maybe it's all going away, the ability to make up characters that come alive..." ) One useful tactic starts by picking two or three at a time and getting them to argue with each other. These are not conversations for the book; I'd be surprised if more than a few of them ended up there. They're group psychotherapy for plastic doll-itis. From their brief bios, I pick a situation in which they'd disagree, and then shove in a battery (authorial fingers on the keyboard) and see if they start moving on their own. And they began to. Better backstories on them gradually softened their plastic and made it more like flesh. Faces had expression--changing expression. I already knew some of their triggers and hot buttons--now to push hard on those. The printout of the Character Bios file acquired scribbled notations in the margins and running around the back, as more and more characters woke up.
The whole book began to inch forward, a bit stickily. Still not moving smoothly, though moving. Hmmm. When my friend Karen was visiting, we talked about the book, of course, and I mentioned a branch point I was still not certain of. She asked exactly the right question to make me look harder at someone who--I thought--had already been very well defined in the first pages, and was OK to roll on...but wasn't. What, she asked, was J's value to protagonist and to someone else who cannot be specified yet? The question stabbed the inside of my brain like a searchlight, pointing out what wasn't there. This secondary has a crucial part at the point where the book is now (and it's hard to write *about* this without letting spoilers out of the bag...so if it seems a big vague, that's why) and without more internal reality, that would not work.
So I focused on J. Not just J's planet of origin, culture of origin, personal history, personal relationship with a major character...that was already down on the Characters reference file. But took more time to think about--to test hypotheses about--the implications of the culture of origin and J's innate personality and J's specific personal history as mediated by both the innate stuff and the culture stuff. Running J (both writing out conversations and--as J came more alive, mentally) through various simulations, some of which had nothing to do with the actual book. And then it happened. J popped the plastic shell completely, emerging as a much better character, very stubbornlly J-self. Whee, yay, and some bouncing in the chair occurred.
But fixing one cause-of-stall doesn't mean everything's now fine, because every change propagates by effect through everything else. I realized the entire first section of the book had to be rewritten NOW--from page one--to make J's behavior up to and beyond where the book is presently organic. That's...a lot of pages. Hundreds, in fact: every appearance of J, every reaction to J by other characters, every thought about J by Main Character #1 (MC1) needed correction to account for the increased complexity and "aliveness" of J. Inevitably, the aliveness of one character will show up the any plastic on the others, and fixing the next will show up another and...thus the need for a complete front to back (or middle, since that's where it was stalled) revision. Usually I don't attempt a big rewrite like that until the rough draft's done, but this time--because of what the book is, and the larger-than-usual cast of close-secondaries (that may not make sense but I know what I mean), what I had done had constricted a section where more degrees of freedom were needed. I could not go on and write the rest without fixing what came before.
Could I have figured all that out earlier? No, not this time. One of the constraints of a book that's a proposal for a contract is the proposal requirement itself. Fine if you're one kind of writer, not helpful if you're hte other. You're supposed to know and show more about the whole structure than may be possible (it's not possible for me, at the depth I want to work.) The other constraint was the content of the book (very loosely, the 'idea' of the book) which required the main character to meet a group of strangers very soon after the book starts, and then in another very short time they're all in a crisis.situation together. Usually I manage to introduce secondaries--who have to have depth--in a more sequential way, individually or in small groups. I knew when I started this might be tricky, but there was that urge to dive in and go as far as possible before slowing down to think. (It's an approach that's worked for me in multiple endeavors and caused quite striking fails in others.) If you're wired for that kind of approach, then anticipate the need to pause and regroup and redirect partway through--be flexible--and above all do not give in to the fear that you're out in the ocean without paddle or sail. Writers create their own paddles and sails and there are many tricks available (and more you can make up) to get your story-ship moving again.
So, anyway, the rewrite of J's stuff is going well, but of course that requires a complete reconsideration of every other scene. MC-1 is still MC-1--no worries that J will usurp the book--but some scenes are going to be way, way different. Better. I can feel it in my bones. Now we're cookin', says the Plot Daemon (the engineer responsible for keeping up steam.)
Ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa...a reference some of you will get instantly with all it implies.
Well, this time what I did was go blasting ahead where I knew things were going, trailing a cloud of necessary secondary characters for whom I'd produced some minimal background. They were holding me back, when I started the book, so I wrote ahead of my understanding of them. I start books in a rush--need to get into them quickly, well in, before coming up for air and thought. And then came to the point where all these secondary characters basically sat there, a row of plastic dolls, for me to move around in Story-space. Only that's not acceptable. Secondaries are not puppets; they need to be seen and felt to be acting out of their own reasonable motivations. "Why won't you DO things?" I asked. Little glass eyes stared back.
When I first started writing, a character turning from live to plastic scared me a lot. I hadn't developed any tools to do anything but toss out that one and make up another. Experience is a big help, if and only if I don't let the fear take hold ("I'm getting old now...maybe it's all going away, the ability to make up characters that come alive..." ) One useful tactic starts by picking two or three at a time and getting them to argue with each other. These are not conversations for the book; I'd be surprised if more than a few of them ended up there. They're group psychotherapy for plastic doll-itis. From their brief bios, I pick a situation in which they'd disagree, and then shove in a battery (authorial fingers on the keyboard) and see if they start moving on their own. And they began to. Better backstories on them gradually softened their plastic and made it more like flesh. Faces had expression--changing expression. I already knew some of their triggers and hot buttons--now to push hard on those. The printout of the Character Bios file acquired scribbled notations in the margins and running around the back, as more and more characters woke up.
The whole book began to inch forward, a bit stickily. Still not moving smoothly, though moving. Hmmm. When my friend Karen was visiting, we talked about the book, of course, and I mentioned a branch point I was still not certain of. She asked exactly the right question to make me look harder at someone who--I thought--had already been very well defined in the first pages, and was OK to roll on...but wasn't. What, she asked, was J's value to protagonist and to someone else who cannot be specified yet? The question stabbed the inside of my brain like a searchlight, pointing out what wasn't there. This secondary has a crucial part at the point where the book is now (and it's hard to write *about* this without letting spoilers out of the bag...so if it seems a big vague, that's why) and without more internal reality, that would not work.
So I focused on J. Not just J's planet of origin, culture of origin, personal history, personal relationship with a major character...that was already down on the Characters reference file. But took more time to think about--to test hypotheses about--the implications of the culture of origin and J's innate personality and J's specific personal history as mediated by both the innate stuff and the culture stuff. Running J (both writing out conversations and--as J came more alive, mentally) through various simulations, some of which had nothing to do with the actual book. And then it happened. J popped the plastic shell completely, emerging as a much better character, very stubbornlly J-self. Whee, yay, and some bouncing in the chair occurred.
But fixing one cause-of-stall doesn't mean everything's now fine, because every change propagates by effect through everything else. I realized the entire first section of the book had to be rewritten NOW--from page one--to make J's behavior up to and beyond where the book is presently organic. That's...a lot of pages. Hundreds, in fact: every appearance of J, every reaction to J by other characters, every thought about J by Main Character #1 (MC1) needed correction to account for the increased complexity and "aliveness" of J. Inevitably, the aliveness of one character will show up the any plastic on the others, and fixing the next will show up another and...thus the need for a complete front to back (or middle, since that's where it was stalled) revision. Usually I don't attempt a big rewrite like that until the rough draft's done, but this time--because of what the book is, and the larger-than-usual cast of close-secondaries (that may not make sense but I know what I mean), what I had done had constricted a section where more degrees of freedom were needed. I could not go on and write the rest without fixing what came before.
Could I have figured all that out earlier? No, not this time. One of the constraints of a book that's a proposal for a contract is the proposal requirement itself. Fine if you're one kind of writer, not helpful if you're hte other. You're supposed to know and show more about the whole structure than may be possible (it's not possible for me, at the depth I want to work.) The other constraint was the content of the book (very loosely, the 'idea' of the book) which required the main character to meet a group of strangers very soon after the book starts, and then in another very short time they're all in a crisis.situation together. Usually I manage to introduce secondaries--who have to have depth--in a more sequential way, individually or in small groups. I knew when I started this might be tricky, but there was that urge to dive in and go as far as possible before slowing down to think. (It's an approach that's worked for me in multiple endeavors and caused quite striking fails in others.) If you're wired for that kind of approach, then anticipate the need to pause and regroup and redirect partway through--be flexible--and above all do not give in to the fear that you're out in the ocean without paddle or sail. Writers create their own paddles and sails and there are many tricks available (and more you can make up) to get your story-ship moving again.
So, anyway, the rewrite of J's stuff is going well, but of course that requires a complete reconsideration of every other scene. MC-1 is still MC-1--no worries that J will usurp the book--but some scenes are going to be way, way different. Better. I can feel it in my bones. Now we're cookin', says the Plot Daemon (the engineer responsible for keeping up steam.)
Ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa...a reference some of you will get instantly with all it implies.
April 16, 2015
Website outages
For those of you who visit any of my websites or read the site-embedded blogs...yes, they're all down. It's Verizon's fault. They had some kind of problem night before last that destabilized my hosting service for over six hours...and by the time Verizon claimed they were up and stable again, they had done "something" than knocked the hosting service and all its sites down. First they swore they'd fix it yesterday. No. Then they announced that someone would be "in" at 8 am today and that was the right team to fix it. No. Then in the afternoon they sent an emal to the hosting site to say the right people would be in late tonight. I am not holding my breath.
As my hosting service says, "You could not make this up." This is not the first time Verizon has knocked over the china shelves, so to speak, at my hosting service.
But if you have noticed the sites are down--yes, I know (have known since before the "fix" when the connection was off-and-on) and yes, I know it's not the hosting service, but Verizon. It will get fixed eventually, although the desire to pour a bucket of wet fish down the back of Verizon's CEO's jacket is becoming stronger. (The ability to do this is of course limited by common sense and better things to do. Like use the time I can't be blogging on the websites to, um, work on the current chapter.
As my hosting service says, "You could not make this up." This is not the first time Verizon has knocked over the china shelves, so to speak, at my hosting service.
But if you have noticed the sites are down--yes, I know (have known since before the "fix" when the connection was off-and-on) and yes, I know it's not the hosting service, but Verizon. It will get fixed eventually, although the desire to pour a bucket of wet fish down the back of Verizon's CEO's jacket is becoming stronger. (The ability to do this is of course limited by common sense and better things to do. Like use the time I can't be blogging on the websites to, um, work on the current chapter.
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