Gillian Polack's Blog, page 185
May 18, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-05-19T11:22:00
Last night was a bit of a washout. I got some things done and then health caught up with me. As it does.
This morning, I sorted my scarves and hats and belts. I went through a belt phase in the 1970s and early 80s and a scarf phase from the 70s until the early 90s and the thief spread things all over and I had put them back higgledy-pigglety. Yesterday I spent some of my insurance money on a big plastic tub and I did a big sort. Some of my scarves will go to Folkdance Canberra, and the remaining scarves and belts fit into the plastic tub and are now safely under my bed. The purses and most of my hats now fit on the shelf and I have a drawer for miscellaneous things (a 1960s mantilla, swimming costumes, winter hats). This is as neat as I get, I'm afraid.
Now that's solved, I want to get back to deadline stuff. But I want coffee, first. Before that, though, I have a load of laundry to put on the airer. Today is the day for much housework. If the smoke clears enough, I might be able to put the rubbish out this afternoon. Then my place will be almost inhabitable for a week! Also, I'll have run out of distractions and will have no choice but to work.
This morning, I sorted my scarves and hats and belts. I went through a belt phase in the 1970s and early 80s and a scarf phase from the 70s until the early 90s and the thief spread things all over and I had put them back higgledy-pigglety. Yesterday I spent some of my insurance money on a big plastic tub and I did a big sort. Some of my scarves will go to Folkdance Canberra, and the remaining scarves and belts fit into the plastic tub and are now safely under my bed. The purses and most of my hats now fit on the shelf and I have a drawer for miscellaneous things (a 1960s mantilla, swimming costumes, winter hats). This is as neat as I get, I'm afraid.
Now that's solved, I want to get back to deadline stuff. But I want coffee, first. Before that, though, I have a load of laundry to put on the airer. Today is the day for much housework. If the smoke clears enough, I might be able to put the rubbish out this afternoon. Then my place will be almost inhabitable for a week! Also, I'll have run out of distractions and will have no choice but to work.
gillpolack @ 2012-05-18T20:01:00
My eyes look big and shadowed, largely because of the dental work. I don't know if the giant fillings coming out or if the anaesthetic used is the cause, but either way I get a reaction that takes a couple of weeks to fade. It's at its height now, which means I look impressively decadent. I shall watch suitable TV in between work, just to add to the decadence. I shall also take a hot bath with Epsom salts to speed the reaction along. It's not serious, but it's a nuisance.
I have 700 words to write before I can eat the rest of dinner, and then ten pages of close scrutinising (accompanied by screaming) before I'm allowed coffee. After that it's another ten page of close scrutinising (on an entirely different document, which gets sent to my supervisor), a contract scanned and emailed, some financial stuff done, and then I'm finished for the night. A doddle. Nothing to it.
If I can get all this done tonight, then I have every possibility of getting through the weekend in fine style.
I have 700 words to write before I can eat the rest of dinner, and then ten pages of close scrutinising (accompanied by screaming) before I'm allowed coffee. After that it's another ten page of close scrutinising (on an entirely different document, which gets sent to my supervisor), a contract scanned and emailed, some financial stuff done, and then I'm finished for the night. A doddle. Nothing to it.
If I can get all this done tonight, then I have every possibility of getting through the weekend in fine style.
gillpolack @ 2012-05-18T17:02:00
I grow cold. I grow cold. The bottoms on my trousers are rolled right now, right down.
It was zero when I left for the dentist at 8.30 this morning, and 12 when I returned. No more dental work for two weeks and that will be my last one in this epic set of procedures! Seung managed to fit in two crowns and a large filling today, which was impressive.
Today we talked science fiction and TV shows.
After everything was done, I did some shopping. Roast chicken for tomorrow's dinner. I will have enough and to spare should anyone be passing hungry or should anyone passing be hungry.
It was zero when I left for the dentist at 8.30 this morning, and 12 when I returned. No more dental work for two weeks and that will be my last one in this epic set of procedures! Seung managed to fit in two crowns and a large filling today, which was impressive.
Today we talked science fiction and TV shows.
After everything was done, I did some shopping. Roast chicken for tomorrow's dinner. I will have enough and to spare should anyone be passing hungry or should anyone passing be hungry.
May 17, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-05-17T23:13:00
I have a couple more guest posts to arrive in my inbox - I'll gift you with them when they arrive. It wasn't intentional that two appear almost at once, and after a few days when I couldn't post at all (due to walking ocean shores and getting sand between my toes) but I'm not complaining (well, I am, but not about guest psots).
My class tonight was very patient with me. Despite the extra time asleep, I was still so tired that I forgot basic things, like the abbreviation for a denarius and lists of kings. I remembered the big patterns and was able to send people to good sources for all the stuff they wanted more reading on, and the time passed so quickly that it was 8 pm before any of us realised. We talked about paperclips and rubbish disposal and about building a society where the cultural approach to technology fits the actual technology in the story. We also talked about hot water systems in the Middle Ages. And pipes. And rummaging through the garbage of dead people.
I have no more teaching until Tuesday. Since I've taught somewhere between 40 and 50 hours this week (possibly more than that - but I ventured there earlier and decided I would not even think it as a possibility), I rather suspect this isn't a bad thing. My students at the coast pointed out that even when I made my felt scarf, I was teaching them how to use the experience in their writing. I said that I was sure I had five minutes when I wasn't teaching and was still working on the scarf. "Possibly five minutes," my students replied. They plan to do lots of craftwork and incorporate the sensual aspects of it into their writing.
Did I forget to say that I made a felt scarf? A very nice one, too. I was going to give it to my mother, but I fear I may need it more than her. Canberra is building up to the coldest winter on record, and it's only autumn. The only way it can't be one of the coldest is if winter is warmer than autumn. And on that deeply considered opinion (which has not been researched or even thought about - I was cold today!) I shall take myself to sleep.
My class tonight was very patient with me. Despite the extra time asleep, I was still so tired that I forgot basic things, like the abbreviation for a denarius and lists of kings. I remembered the big patterns and was able to send people to good sources for all the stuff they wanted more reading on, and the time passed so quickly that it was 8 pm before any of us realised. We talked about paperclips and rubbish disposal and about building a society where the cultural approach to technology fits the actual technology in the story. We also talked about hot water systems in the Middle Ages. And pipes. And rummaging through the garbage of dead people.
I have no more teaching until Tuesday. Since I've taught somewhere between 40 and 50 hours this week (possibly more than that - but I ventured there earlier and decided I would not even think it as a possibility), I rather suspect this isn't a bad thing. My students at the coast pointed out that even when I made my felt scarf, I was teaching them how to use the experience in their writing. I said that I was sure I had five minutes when I wasn't teaching and was still working on the scarf. "Possibly five minutes," my students replied. They plan to do lots of craftwork and incorporate the sensual aspects of it into their writing.
Did I forget to say that I made a felt scarf? A very nice one, too. I was going to give it to my mother, but I fear I may need it more than her. Canberra is building up to the coldest winter on record, and it's only autumn. The only way it can't be one of the coldest is if winter is warmer than autumn. And on that deeply considered opinion (which has not been researched or even thought about - I was cold today!) I shall take myself to sleep.
Laura and her Dancing Mice - guest post from Laura Goodin
Several years ago, Gillian helped me whip into shape something I had written as a charming, whimsical tale (with, admittedly, a bit of shadow to it, but on the whole it lacked a certain...depth and resonance). With her sharp eye for both story and resonance, she was able to give me the feedback to make it what we both felt was something special and exciting. It now had not just wistfulness, but intense desire, grief, and exultation. Not just quaint characters, but figures of genuine power. Not just a vague theme, but a ringing significance that could captivate and inspire a reader. (Gillian is some kind of editor, let me tell you.)
That story, "The Dancing Mice and the Giants of Flanders", led off the wonderful lineup in the Canberra Speculative Fiction Guild's anthology Masques. I got a lot of enthusiastic feedback about it, much of it along the lines of "This needs to be illustrated!" and "This would make a great animation!"
But when my husband, composer Houston Dunleavy, said, "This would make a great opera," lightbulbs went off. I adapted the story into a libretto, and Houston wrote some absolutely thrilling music for it. We secured the support of an international gang of top-tier professionals, including singers, a director, and an animator, to start work. We're now in rehearsals for the first stage of workshopping: a concert performance (that is, with all the music, but without the costumes, props, or staging), to hear how the music sounds in real life, in front of a real audience.
We're reaching out to people who care about art, stories, opera, new music, multimedia to help us fund this stage of the development. We've got a funding page up at http://dancingmice.pozible.com; you can go there to find out more about the project. If it's something you want to support, we'd love you to pledge what you can, and/or to share the link with as many people as you can.
I'm very excited about crowdfunding. At its heart, it takes art out of the hands of the gatekeepers (governments, moneyed elites) and puts it in the hands of individuals who can choose for themselves what art they want to make happen. Needless to say, I'm also excited about the project itself: to see a story that I love become real in time and space, a vehicle for bringing so many amazing artists together, and something exciting and beautiful for the people who will come to see it. I hope you can be part of it as well.
That story, "The Dancing Mice and the Giants of Flanders", led off the wonderful lineup in the Canberra Speculative Fiction Guild's anthology Masques. I got a lot of enthusiastic feedback about it, much of it along the lines of "This needs to be illustrated!" and "This would make a great animation!"
But when my husband, composer Houston Dunleavy, said, "This would make a great opera," lightbulbs went off. I adapted the story into a libretto, and Houston wrote some absolutely thrilling music for it. We secured the support of an international gang of top-tier professionals, including singers, a director, and an animator, to start work. We're now in rehearsals for the first stage of workshopping: a concert performance (that is, with all the music, but without the costumes, props, or staging), to hear how the music sounds in real life, in front of a real audience.
We're reaching out to people who care about art, stories, opera, new music, multimedia to help us fund this stage of the development. We've got a funding page up at http://dancingmice.pozible.com; you can go there to find out more about the project. If it's something you want to support, we'd love you to pledge what you can, and/or to share the link with as many people as you can.
I'm very excited about crowdfunding. At its heart, it takes art out of the hands of the gatekeepers (governments, moneyed elites) and puts it in the hands of individuals who can choose for themselves what art they want to make happen. Needless to say, I'm also excited about the project itself: to see a story that I love become real in time and space, a vehicle for bringing so many amazing artists together, and something exciting and beautiful for the people who will come to see it. I hope you can be part of it as well.
May 16, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-05-17T15:34:00
I had to reschedule my eye appointment. I'm very good at making my body do things when it's tired and hurting, but this morning I realised that I needed to go back to bed. My deadlines will waver a bit this week, too. But I shall teach tonight and go to the library today and the dentist tomorrow. I possibly shou8ld have known that something was up when I fell asleep in the middle of taking medication last night...
Two years ago I couldn't even have gone to Sydney, one year ago I could have done the coastal trip but not taught on both sides of it and certainly not come home last night and done a few hours of urgent work.
My underlying health must be improving, for I managed last week's classes and deadlines, three days of travel and then three more days of travel. After going back to bed for a few hours, I'm not chipper but I am able to do basics. This is big. It means that I'm catching up to normal work levels. If I continue to take care, then I'll be just fine.
In fact, the last few months I've been doing more than normal, between the livelihood and the medical and the chasing insurance matters (which reminds me, more of that to do today) and the full-time study. Sean Williams is also earning on top of the fulltime study and we were chatting about it (briefly) on Saturday and he, too, finds it hard work. So maybe my body is closer to fully capable than I've been assuming! That would be nice.
What's nice now is that I actually have the energy to make me some coffee. If the milk's still OK I'll have two cups, I think. I can't buy replacement milk until tomorrow (it was going to happen on the way back from hospital). Small complications - but nothing dramatic. Yay for returning health!
Two years ago I couldn't even have gone to Sydney, one year ago I could have done the coastal trip but not taught on both sides of it and certainly not come home last night and done a few hours of urgent work.
My underlying health must be improving, for I managed last week's classes and deadlines, three days of travel and then three more days of travel. After going back to bed for a few hours, I'm not chipper but I am able to do basics. This is big. It means that I'm catching up to normal work levels. If I continue to take care, then I'll be just fine.
In fact, the last few months I've been doing more than normal, between the livelihood and the medical and the chasing insurance matters (which reminds me, more of that to do today) and the full-time study. Sean Williams is also earning on top of the fulltime study and we were chatting about it (briefly) on Saturday and he, too, finds it hard work. So maybe my body is closer to fully capable than I've been assuming! That would be nice.
What's nice now is that I actually have the energy to make me some coffee. If the milk's still OK I'll have two cups, I think. I can't buy replacement milk until tomorrow (it was going to happen on the way back from hospital). Small complications - but nothing dramatic. Yay for returning health!
Special surprise blog guest: Simon Brown on the Chronicles of Kydan
Fantastical History
For as long as I’ve been an independent reader, my non-fiction has always leaned towards two broad areas – history and science. It doesn’t hurt that history and science occasionally (and importantly) overlap. Most readers and writers of speculative fiction know that a working general knowledge of science is important in writing good science fiction, and that a working general knowledge of history is invaluable in writing good fantasy. What science can also provide is a reasonable idea of what to expect from the physical future, from the course of an infectious disease to the course of our sun’s evolution. Science can’t yet provide all the answers arising from the physical realm (and may never be able to), but science is the tool we’ll use to chase them up.
On the other hand, history is a much less competent guide to the future. It is a furphy that history repeats itself. Mark Twain perhaps came closest to the truth when he said that ‘History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme.’
Actually, a quick check with Wikipedia indicates this quote sounds like something Mark Twain would have said, but cannot be sourced. What he actually wrote about history was: ‘It is not worth while to try to keep history from repeating itself, for man's character will always make the preventing of the repetitions impossible.’ Which actually scans like something Twain should have rephrased.
When I started the trilogy I had more in mind the ancient Greek city-state as a model for Kydan rather than Milan or Florence, but as the story progressed Kydan itself progressed until the fit was more natural. Writing often works this way, which is one of its wonders and joys.
gillpolack @ 2012-05-16T22:12:00
I have the inevitable reality check tonight. So many things happened over the last few days, including a vast intensity of teaching that tonight was going to be a little difficult, no matter what, but all the bad news in the week came in a cluster. At least I get to deal with it all at once!
None of it is serious. Two thirds of it was expected. My life is its usual level of imperfection.
Something quite extraordinary happened this week. New students taught me new things. It appears I can teach in different ways. Unexpected and informal ways. And I can teach people to teach themselves.
The program I went coastal for was for people with mental illnesses. The thing about people with mental illnesses is that they are people, but not all other people recognise this. A lot of the ones who come my way and demand that I make them work have had very tough lives (mental illness, plus physical illnesses, plus other people denying them aspects of their humanity - and then you add life experiences that range from charming to terrifying) and thus have gaps in their learning. I get the courageous people, the kind people, the fascinating people. This is because the program is for the courageous, kind and fascinating people, in a way - they are the humans who have the abilities and strength to get major life problems under control. These government programs exist to help them take more steps and to build their lives but they're always the ones who put the work in.
I thought I would not have writing students, since the intake for this year's program came from the artists. Everyone who appeared as a student this week is an artist. But it turns out that 2/3 of them have been to classes of mine (I just didn't know their surnames!) and wanted to learn specific writing skills. Because of this I did a lot of one-on-one very close tuition. Sometimes we worked with the senses, but sometimes we explored paths the student might follow to be where they need to be with their writing. Some of the writing we discussed was creative writing, but mostly it was finding out what skills a student possessed and how they could use them.
It was amazing and it was life-affirming and the student who said "Why would anyone *not* face their fears and deal with them" summed up the attitude of the group. A bunch of indomitable folk. Life's real achievers.
I get this set of things not going right and all I have to do is stop and remember A's comment and B's gutsy approach to life and C's ability to make all of us enjoy every conversation and D's cheer and internal longlife battery and E's inner softness and the hard work she puts in to allow it to show. It reminds me that the clump of emails is a passing small pain. The real joy is being lucky enough to have taught human beings who understand their humanity.
None of it is serious. Two thirds of it was expected. My life is its usual level of imperfection.
Something quite extraordinary happened this week. New students taught me new things. It appears I can teach in different ways. Unexpected and informal ways. And I can teach people to teach themselves.
The program I went coastal for was for people with mental illnesses. The thing about people with mental illnesses is that they are people, but not all other people recognise this. A lot of the ones who come my way and demand that I make them work have had very tough lives (mental illness, plus physical illnesses, plus other people denying them aspects of their humanity - and then you add life experiences that range from charming to terrifying) and thus have gaps in their learning. I get the courageous people, the kind people, the fascinating people. This is because the program is for the courageous, kind and fascinating people, in a way - they are the humans who have the abilities and strength to get major life problems under control. These government programs exist to help them take more steps and to build their lives but they're always the ones who put the work in.
I thought I would not have writing students, since the intake for this year's program came from the artists. Everyone who appeared as a student this week is an artist. But it turns out that 2/3 of them have been to classes of mine (I just didn't know their surnames!) and wanted to learn specific writing skills. Because of this I did a lot of one-on-one very close tuition. Sometimes we worked with the senses, but sometimes we explored paths the student might follow to be where they need to be with their writing. Some of the writing we discussed was creative writing, but mostly it was finding out what skills a student possessed and how they could use them.
It was amazing and it was life-affirming and the student who said "Why would anyone *not* face their fears and deal with them" summed up the attitude of the group. A bunch of indomitable folk. Life's real achievers.
I get this set of things not going right and all I have to do is stop and remember A's comment and B's gutsy approach to life and C's ability to make all of us enjoy every conversation and D's cheer and internal longlife battery and E's inner softness and the hard work she puts in to allow it to show. It reminds me that the clump of emails is a passing small pain. The real joy is being lucky enough to have taught human beings who understand their humanity.
gillpolack @ 2012-05-16T18:19:00
I'm home. I've educated people in ways that surprised both them and me. I've eaten much good food and played on the beach a great deal. I've kept a promise (to teach at Tuross again) I made last year. I've earned enough money to pay for all my medical and dental stuff. Now I possibly need to unpack and think about dinner. I predict much Pacific sand (which the geologist on the trip assured me was remnants of Clyde Mountain) will fall out of my baggage.
May 13, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-05-14T08:41:00
I'm hoping the beach this afternoon (for I am spending the afternoon on the beach, teaching writing skills that use the five senses) is warmer than Canberra this morning. "By 'warmer' I mean at least 20 degrees warmer.
This is not greed. This is practicality. When i woke up it was nearly -5 here and beach writing really needs more than the promise of warmth in another season.
For friends in California and Washington and DC, I shall have my students wave at you from our side of the Pacific. Watch for us in about eight hours.
This is not greed. This is practicality. When i woke up it was nearly -5 here and beach writing really needs more than the promise of warmth in another season.
For friends in California and Washington and DC, I shall have my students wave at you from our side of the Pacific. Watch for us in about eight hours.
