Gillian Polack's Blog, page 148
October 2, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-10-03T12:59:00
Today I'm back to the lists. Well, to one list. It's not a big list because, although I can eat again, the virus has left me very tired. Also achey. Also breathless. Also nauseous. Also, as you might possibly just barely have noticed, rather full of telling everyone how much I hurt.
I've discovered I can deal with only an eight hour day, and I'm punctuating the eight hours with complaints and bedrest.
The good news is a fascinating review book that came in today's mail. It's all about New Zealand's London and I can't even begin on it until next week (and can't actually publish the review until December, for I'm booked up until then) but it's such an interesting subject and is an antidote to seeing London through other Antipodean eyes. Also, when I open the book at random the first time I get a picture of Ngaio Marsh on holiday and the second, a picture of dead pigs one of which may well be wearing a sash.
Only a few fiction publishers are sending me review books right now. I'm getting the coolest non-fiction, however. It's interesting the profile one sends to the world.
My review-related task for today is to finish the reading for a piece on a Philippines small press. I'm still interested in writing about small presses, and especially small presses that are outside the mainstream purview (if they have too many award-visible books, then they're visible to the mainstream). They're a key component in this overly-dynamic publishing world we're trying to survive. I have an intense desire to understand what's happening with it, and the small press articles are but one tool, but a surprisingly handy one. Micro-press is more stable than other aspects of publishing, it seems. It may already have tools for dealing with uncertainty, or it might be in trouble - that's another thing to find out.
What else am I doing today? Besides whingeing? Waiting for painkillers to work, of course, and travel sickness tablets. Preparing for a CSFG crit group (timing is not good, but one cannot always help that). Going through the last complete printout of my dissertation. If I can get it back to my supervisor tonight with final questions, then he can address final questions and we can move to proofreading. He's on leave, so may not be able to look for a couple of days, but waiting at this stage (for anything) is just not sensible.: there's a lot to be done and not much time. It looks as if it will only be a couple of questions (unless I still have conniptions about Ch 5, and that may or may not be the case).
And this is my Wednesday.
ETA: Being unwell meant I forgot to post the link to the latest BiblioBuffet thingie: http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/1847-the-history-of-guns-093012 - sorry!
I've discovered I can deal with only an eight hour day, and I'm punctuating the eight hours with complaints and bedrest.
The good news is a fascinating review book that came in today's mail. It's all about New Zealand's London and I can't even begin on it until next week (and can't actually publish the review until December, for I'm booked up until then) but it's such an interesting subject and is an antidote to seeing London through other Antipodean eyes. Also, when I open the book at random the first time I get a picture of Ngaio Marsh on holiday and the second, a picture of dead pigs one of which may well be wearing a sash.
Only a few fiction publishers are sending me review books right now. I'm getting the coolest non-fiction, however. It's interesting the profile one sends to the world.
My review-related task for today is to finish the reading for a piece on a Philippines small press. I'm still interested in writing about small presses, and especially small presses that are outside the mainstream purview (if they have too many award-visible books, then they're visible to the mainstream). They're a key component in this overly-dynamic publishing world we're trying to survive. I have an intense desire to understand what's happening with it, and the small press articles are but one tool, but a surprisingly handy one. Micro-press is more stable than other aspects of publishing, it seems. It may already have tools for dealing with uncertainty, or it might be in trouble - that's another thing to find out.
What else am I doing today? Besides whingeing? Waiting for painkillers to work, of course, and travel sickness tablets. Preparing for a CSFG crit group (timing is not good, but one cannot always help that). Going through the last complete printout of my dissertation. If I can get it back to my supervisor tonight with final questions, then he can address final questions and we can move to proofreading. He's on leave, so may not be able to look for a couple of days, but waiting at this stage (for anything) is just not sensible.: there's a lot to be done and not much time. It looks as if it will only be a couple of questions (unless I still have conniptions about Ch 5, and that may or may not be the case).
And this is my Wednesday.
ETA: Being unwell meant I forgot to post the link to the latest BiblioBuffet thingie: http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/1847-the-history-of-guns-093012 - sorry!
October 1, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-10-02T14:51:00
I'm rediscovering Monday morning.
I have just this moment reached a stage of wellness that is equivalent to post-convention fatigue and am reorganising my life to fit. It's a lot more complicated than I thought, for non-teaching seems to imply that many things arrive unexpectedly in my various forms of mail. Also, this is the final week of substantive changes possible to my dissertation, and that's my priority. My aim until dinnertime (which will be my first meal since breakfast yesterday and I am instructing my body to treat me nicely over it) is to go through papers and sort out when what has to be done, plus to get an hour done on my dissertation. In between this, I shall rest, for I must.
At least my brain is functioning again. It's only a half hour ago that it decided that this was possible.
In other news, Aurealis reading is finally, finally arriving. It's still only two weeks of Gillian-reading, but I now have two quite respectable piles, plus some computer files. I'm much happier judging when I have lots and lots of material worth the judging.
In other, other news, I shall be using freezer food for the rest of the week, for I'm not sure that I can manage a shopping trip on top of the flu on top of the PhD on top of serious-other-stuff and on top of crit group. This means my meals won't be exciting, but in terms of actual amounts of food, I'm fine. I was only half prepared for this week, but I was half prepared and shall get through (mainly thanks to Stu and last Monday - I wasn't expecting quite so many visitors in between then and now, which where the half comes in). Also, I have six oranges. When I can eat oranges again, I shall be perfectly fine. And I have heaps of meat and a chicken in my freezer, so protein is all good. And onions. I have many, many onions.
I have just this moment reached a stage of wellness that is equivalent to post-convention fatigue and am reorganising my life to fit. It's a lot more complicated than I thought, for non-teaching seems to imply that many things arrive unexpectedly in my various forms of mail. Also, this is the final week of substantive changes possible to my dissertation, and that's my priority. My aim until dinnertime (which will be my first meal since breakfast yesterday and I am instructing my body to treat me nicely over it) is to go through papers and sort out when what has to be done, plus to get an hour done on my dissertation. In between this, I shall rest, for I must.
At least my brain is functioning again. It's only a half hour ago that it decided that this was possible.
In other news, Aurealis reading is finally, finally arriving. It's still only two weeks of Gillian-reading, but I now have two quite respectable piles, plus some computer files. I'm much happier judging when I have lots and lots of material worth the judging.
In other, other news, I shall be using freezer food for the rest of the week, for I'm not sure that I can manage a shopping trip on top of the flu on top of the PhD on top of serious-other-stuff and on top of crit group. This means my meals won't be exciting, but in terms of actual amounts of food, I'm fine. I was only half prepared for this week, but I was half prepared and shall get through (mainly thanks to Stu and last Monday - I wasn't expecting quite so many visitors in between then and now, which where the half comes in). Also, I have six oranges. When I can eat oranges again, I shall be perfectly fine. And I have heaps of meat and a chicken in my freezer, so protein is all good. And onions. I have many, many onions.
gillpolack @ 2012-10-02T12:18:00
I've had a lot of bedtime this last day. I'm over the worst of the virus, though I still have a mild fever and I still can't eat. This latter is not such a bad thing.
What's interesting is that specific conversations repeat when one is stuck in bed with a very high fever. The bit that hovered in my mind is the statement made to me that Holocaust survivors are healing. My mother's next door neighbour isn't. She carries with her still the memory that she went home after surviving concentration camps (she doesn't talk about life in camp except when she gives reasons to her doctor for refusing to diet - it's a dark hole in her life narrative) and only survived going home because she got to her ancestral place and saw the lights on and heard people laughing. A family had moved into her home and was living in the house they had stolen, using her family's possessions as if they were their own. She was weak and sick and still couldn't even face going to a hotel for a night, to report into the town council that she was alive as she was supposed to do and to get her identity papers and some money for food. She got on a train and went straight back to the refugee camp. The refugee camp was not a good place, but it was better than someone she knew sitting in her father's chair as if he had always owned it.
Her best friend stayed in Chelm overnight and was killed by locals who felt that it was wrong that any of their Jewish neighbours and childhood friends had survived.
What R always tells me is that she's one of the lucky ones. Being lucky isn't the same as healing. Surviving isn't the same as healing. Every time I see her, I can see the ways R is not healing. She makes jokes about her visits to the doctor, but she still bears the concentration camp burden of physical frailty and emotional trauma.
I've told R's story before, because I asked her if I could. For every story I can tell, however, I have a hundred I can't. For every survivor seeking public education (and maybe personal healing - some are doing this and some aren't), there are many more people who cannot. Their suffering hurts them, their family, their friends. Each time someone who dislikes Jews throws a stone, or a bomb, or sends a "You should have all died" letter, a person who was in a camp, whose relatives and friends were all murdered, who suffered so much that their old age is damaged beyond belief (mind and body) has to sort things out. I fully admit that the mild antisemitism I have suffered (and I include losing a job for being Jewish and having endured Molotov cocktails as mild, not just the "You have a Jewish accent" and other etc) has nothing on these peoples' lives. I fully admitted this in that conversation, for it's true.
I would be much happier today if a person I respect had not tried to get me to say that these souls are healing. Some are. Most aren't. And it hurts. These were the adults who were my honorary aunts and uncles when I was young: they're never numbers or history to me even when they hide those numbers they wear or don't talk about their own history. What I wish most is that I didn't have the PTSD, for I used to be able to explain these things in a way that communicated this civilly.
Conflux was wonderful - but that one conversation I regret.
What's interesting is that specific conversations repeat when one is stuck in bed with a very high fever. The bit that hovered in my mind is the statement made to me that Holocaust survivors are healing. My mother's next door neighbour isn't. She carries with her still the memory that she went home after surviving concentration camps (she doesn't talk about life in camp except when she gives reasons to her doctor for refusing to diet - it's a dark hole in her life narrative) and only survived going home because she got to her ancestral place and saw the lights on and heard people laughing. A family had moved into her home and was living in the house they had stolen, using her family's possessions as if they were their own. She was weak and sick and still couldn't even face going to a hotel for a night, to report into the town council that she was alive as she was supposed to do and to get her identity papers and some money for food. She got on a train and went straight back to the refugee camp. The refugee camp was not a good place, but it was better than someone she knew sitting in her father's chair as if he had always owned it.
Her best friend stayed in Chelm overnight and was killed by locals who felt that it was wrong that any of their Jewish neighbours and childhood friends had survived.
What R always tells me is that she's one of the lucky ones. Being lucky isn't the same as healing. Surviving isn't the same as healing. Every time I see her, I can see the ways R is not healing. She makes jokes about her visits to the doctor, but she still bears the concentration camp burden of physical frailty and emotional trauma.
I've told R's story before, because I asked her if I could. For every story I can tell, however, I have a hundred I can't. For every survivor seeking public education (and maybe personal healing - some are doing this and some aren't), there are many more people who cannot. Their suffering hurts them, their family, their friends. Each time someone who dislikes Jews throws a stone, or a bomb, or sends a "You should have all died" letter, a person who was in a camp, whose relatives and friends were all murdered, who suffered so much that their old age is damaged beyond belief (mind and body) has to sort things out. I fully admit that the mild antisemitism I have suffered (and I include losing a job for being Jewish and having endured Molotov cocktails as mild, not just the "You have a Jewish accent" and other etc) has nothing on these peoples' lives. I fully admitted this in that conversation, for it's true.
I would be much happier today if a person I respect had not tried to get me to say that these souls are healing. Some are. Most aren't. And it hurts. These were the adults who were my honorary aunts and uncles when I was young: they're never numbers or history to me even when they hide those numbers they wear or don't talk about their own history. What I wish most is that I didn't have the PTSD, for I used to be able to explain these things in a way that communicated this civilly.
Conflux was wonderful - but that one conversation I regret.
gillpolack @ 2012-10-01T21:36:00
My fever is gradually diminishing, and so are my visits to the bathroom. I'm well enough to sit up and do some stuff (email, mostly) but I'll be going back to bed soon.
Don't get con crud is the moral of the story. Mind you, I needed the sleep and really didn't need food.
Don't get con crud is the moral of the story. Mind you, I needed the sleep and really didn't need food.
September 30, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-10-01T16:48:00
I have the con lurgie. It involved much vomiting and many chills and a doozie of a fever. I'm drinking water and sleeping it off and staying in wonderful close contact with my bathroom - but not all at once.
September 29, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-09-30T08:18:00
From Tuesday, I won't have quite as much to fit into a day. What this means is that I shall get more than five hours sleep at night.
I did a ton of work ahead of Conflux to clear the decks so that I wouldn't have to do long days, but all sorts of small things (and one big, now thankfully done) cropped up, and they all have deadlines. This means only about four hours work yesterday on top of Conflux and about 2 hours today. Since my day is already full, sleep suffers.
This is the price of doing a PhD and earning an income. I'm under less pressure now because of the scholarship, but I can't just shove everything aside and enjoy myself.
Anyhow, tomorrow I have heaps of time to do everything, for all the fun stuff (friend staying, Conflux) will be gone. And today, I am done all of the most urgent things already. All I have to do is check in tonight, after the Dead Dog Party. This is such a relief! I can enjoy my day.
This morning I have the time travel panel and this afternoon I'm on the CSFG table, and I rather suspect that these might be my only duties. After the five-and-somewhat hours straight yesterday (which felt like AussieCon all over, for AussieCon also scheduled me in lots of back to back items), this is going to be wonderful. I can spend some time with friends. More time. With more friends. I owe Al Baxter a drink, for one. (Actually I owe him about six drinks - I may have to go to the bank.)
Right now, though, I have been through the edits on the article and I've sent the latest round of stuff to my supervisor and I want to sleep. I could sleep for forty-five minutes and turn up to Conflux in my pretty pink PJs? Possibly not the best idea I've ever had...
The big thing is that I have only 2 small bits of work to go and then I'm free until late tonight. I can enjoy the last day of the con and spend enough time with friends so that the next few weeks, with its stringent deadlines, will be a mere walk in the park. My secret formula for staying awake through today consists mainly of coffee and chocolate.
I know other people don't do anything but their doctorate in these final weeks, but my life doesn't work that way. And I am having a blast at Conflux and oddly, enjoying meeting my deadlines as well. The big thing is that I'm so very well compared with two years ago. I can't keep up this pace, but for one weekend, it all works. Except for the toe I managed to scrape red raw the night before last: that hurts.
And for my next trick, I shall send an email...
I did a ton of work ahead of Conflux to clear the decks so that I wouldn't have to do long days, but all sorts of small things (and one big, now thankfully done) cropped up, and they all have deadlines. This means only about four hours work yesterday on top of Conflux and about 2 hours today. Since my day is already full, sleep suffers.
This is the price of doing a PhD and earning an income. I'm under less pressure now because of the scholarship, but I can't just shove everything aside and enjoy myself.
Anyhow, tomorrow I have heaps of time to do everything, for all the fun stuff (friend staying, Conflux) will be gone. And today, I am done all of the most urgent things already. All I have to do is check in tonight, after the Dead Dog Party. This is such a relief! I can enjoy my day.
This morning I have the time travel panel and this afternoon I'm on the CSFG table, and I rather suspect that these might be my only duties. After the five-and-somewhat hours straight yesterday (which felt like AussieCon all over, for AussieCon also scheduled me in lots of back to back items), this is going to be wonderful. I can spend some time with friends. More time. With more friends. I owe Al Baxter a drink, for one. (Actually I owe him about six drinks - I may have to go to the bank.)
Right now, though, I have been through the edits on the article and I've sent the latest round of stuff to my supervisor and I want to sleep. I could sleep for forty-five minutes and turn up to Conflux in my pretty pink PJs? Possibly not the best idea I've ever had...
The big thing is that I have only 2 small bits of work to go and then I'm free until late tonight. I can enjoy the last day of the con and spend enough time with friends so that the next few weeks, with its stringent deadlines, will be a mere walk in the park. My secret formula for staying awake through today consists mainly of coffee and chocolate.
I know other people don't do anything but their doctorate in these final weeks, but my life doesn't work that way. And I am having a blast at Conflux and oddly, enjoying meeting my deadlines as well. The big thing is that I'm so very well compared with two years ago. I can't keep up this pace, but for one weekend, it all works. Except for the toe I managed to scrape red raw the night before last: that hurts.
And for my next trick, I shall send an email...
gillpolack @ 2012-09-29T23:19:00
it's been a lovely day, but my goodness, what a long one. I'm polishing off the proofreading now, so that it won't follow me around tomorrow, but I suspect I need to get to bed sometime.
My con day started with the opening ceremony. After that I was supposed to help out on the CSFG table. I sort of did. There wasn't much to do, though, so I chatted. I then had a good long talk to Keith Stevenson, whose press I may well write about on BiblioBuffet soonish.
Lunch was the last of my quiet time, for I had two panels straight after, then a radio interview, then the kaffeeklatsche. Somehow the kaffeeklatsche extended until an hour before the booklaunch. Janeen and Yaritji and Jack and I had a quiet moment in a pub in between.
The booklaunch was hugely fun. Jack is a fine host for any launch. He's entertaining and funny and makes sure that everyone knows what needs to be known. Lots of books were sold. Lots of people talked about the books that were there. Kaaron Warren and Jack Dann did a rather strange theatrical rendition of my cover blurb, with me sandwiched in between then trying not to laugh. It was, I think, one of the daftest and most entertaining book launches I have ever attended.
My con day started with the opening ceremony. After that I was supposed to help out on the CSFG table. I sort of did. There wasn't much to do, though, so I chatted. I then had a good long talk to Keith Stevenson, whose press I may well write about on BiblioBuffet soonish.
Lunch was the last of my quiet time, for I had two panels straight after, then a radio interview, then the kaffeeklatsche. Somehow the kaffeeklatsche extended until an hour before the booklaunch. Janeen and Yaritji and Jack and I had a quiet moment in a pub in between.
The booklaunch was hugely fun. Jack is a fine host for any launch. He's entertaining and funny and makes sure that everyone knows what needs to be known. Lots of books were sold. Lots of people talked about the books that were there. Kaaron Warren and Jack Dann did a rather strange theatrical rendition of my cover blurb, with me sandwiched in between then trying not to laugh. It was, I think, one of the daftest and most entertaining book launches I have ever attended.
September 28, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-09-29T07:51:00
I'm frantically trying to catch up on the things I didn't quite finish before the Con. This is really just one email and just one bit of proofreading. One whole novel's worth of proofreading...
I came online last night had polished off 70 pages and I have until the bathroom is free to do a bit more. I possibly needed more sleep, but it wasn't going to happen. We had another weather shift, you see.
Anyhow, I'm halfway through and I have revised my natty printed timetable. I've negotiated myself off dealer room duties at lunchtime today and onto them tomorrow afternoon instead (when there's a real need for someone), which means I won't be on panels and etc consecutively from 12-3 pm, sans the catered lunch, only from 1-3 and 4-5, with lunch and coffee. Then I get a full two hours before the booklaunch. Somehow I suspect that I shan't see many panels this convention... I shall, however, see many friends (I already am so doing!) and make many bad jokes.
The chocolate is packed. I have a giant coffee. Proofreading time!
I came online last night had polished off 70 pages and I have until the bathroom is free to do a bit more. I possibly needed more sleep, but it wasn't going to happen. We had another weather shift, you see.
Anyhow, I'm halfway through and I have revised my natty printed timetable. I've negotiated myself off dealer room duties at lunchtime today and onto them tomorrow afternoon instead (when there's a real need for someone), which means I won't be on panels and etc consecutively from 12-3 pm, sans the catered lunch, only from 1-3 and 4-5, with lunch and coffee. Then I get a full two hours before the booklaunch. Somehow I suspect that I shan't see many panels this convention... I shall, however, see many friends (I already am so doing!) and make many bad jokes.
The chocolate is packed. I have a giant coffee. Proofreading time!
gillpolack @ 2012-09-28T23:30:00
Yaritji Green and Janeen Webb and I have all found a new favourite dish: hot rock salted bean curd. It was infused with garlic and we are in love. Dinner was altogether wonderful - 20 writers/fans/friends at the same table, talking full pelt for two hours.
The workshop went well, I think. I have tested my theories and they work for writers and they can be taught to writers and I have no excuse not to write them into a book. Eeek!
The hotel lost Jack Dann and Janeen for us, so Yaritji and I ate much evil chocolate and walked around shops and eventually found everyone at the pub. That that was my afternoon and evening. It's a very auspicious start to Conflux.
The workshop went well, I think. I have tested my theories and they work for writers and they can be taught to writers and I have no excuse not to write them into a book. Eeek!
The hotel lost Jack Dann and Janeen for us, so Yaritji and I ate much evil chocolate and walked around shops and eventually found everyone at the pub. That that was my afternoon and evening. It's a very auspicious start to Conflux.
September 27, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-09-28T09:18:00
I'm blogging in between thunder. I turned the computer off for a while, but the storms are so transient that I gave up. We get one massive thunderclap and then nothing. The rain outside is a pitiful excuse for falling water.
I have a solid morning's work to finish before I go to my final workshop for the term. I've packed my teaching bag and just have to make myself a massive pot of coffee before I settle in. I keep putting off the coffee pot and the focussed work, for Yaritji will be here sometime in the next half hour. I don't know if she'll be hanging around, or if she'll go into Conflux and do a workshop, but either way, I want time to say hi properly. Not time when I'm embedded in proofreading novel, but real time, when my brain is in the real world.
This means I've done a lot of small items from my morning's list. I am a paid member of the MLA again, for instance, and I have diminished my emails to non-scary levels. In fact, I have one big email to write, and then I think I might be up to date with my correspondence (until more life happens, of course).
I don't think I can postpone coffee any longer... This is not so bad, for I really, really need some.
I have a solid morning's work to finish before I go to my final workshop for the term. I've packed my teaching bag and just have to make myself a massive pot of coffee before I settle in. I keep putting off the coffee pot and the focussed work, for Yaritji will be here sometime in the next half hour. I don't know if she'll be hanging around, or if she'll go into Conflux and do a workshop, but either way, I want time to say hi properly. Not time when I'm embedded in proofreading novel, but real time, when my brain is in the real world.
This means I've done a lot of small items from my morning's list. I am a paid member of the MLA again, for instance, and I have diminished my emails to non-scary levels. In fact, I have one big email to write, and then I think I might be up to date with my correspondence (until more life happens, of course).
I don't think I can postpone coffee any longer... This is not so bad, for I really, really need some.
