Gillian Polack's Blog, page 194
April 6, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-04-06T14:08:00
I feel extraordinarily clever. My dissertation is actually only three days work from where it should have been by today. Given the amount of time I lost in March, I think this is cause for smugness. My reviewing is only about three days behind, too. It's about to get a lot more behind, as more assignments come in, but that's reviewing and expected.
Where I can't be smug yet are the other articles I promised - they're uniformly three weeks behind.
It usually amuses me when people say I work hard, because in my mind there are vast tracts of laziness in between small amounts of work, but at times like this I realise that I must work reasonably hard, for it I didn't, there would be nothing to fall behind on.
My aim this Passover is to catch up on almost everything. I have eight days, starting after the seder.
This isn't overwork, let me say this and reassure worried friends. This is me not letting the thief, my eyes and other interesting life events (of which there are far too many, most of which I couldn't be bothered reporting) ruin the things I love doing. It's like letting chronic illness rule my emotions rather than working out ways round it, or like letting the bad career luck I've been prone to send me into unhappiness. I get joy from research, and also from keeping promises. I get to do both this week. Also, each stack of papers that's sorted and each bit of work that's finished sends that burglary further into the past.
Where I can't be smug yet are the other articles I promised - they're uniformly three weeks behind.
It usually amuses me when people say I work hard, because in my mind there are vast tracts of laziness in between small amounts of work, but at times like this I realise that I must work reasonably hard, for it I didn't, there would be nothing to fall behind on.
My aim this Passover is to catch up on almost everything. I have eight days, starting after the seder.
This isn't overwork, let me say this and reassure worried friends. This is me not letting the thief, my eyes and other interesting life events (of which there are far too many, most of which I couldn't be bothered reporting) ruin the things I love doing. It's like letting chronic illness rule my emotions rather than working out ways round it, or like letting the bad career luck I've been prone to send me into unhappiness. I get joy from research, and also from keeping promises. I get to do both this week. Also, each stack of papers that's sorted and each bit of work that's finished sends that burglary further into the past.
April 5, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-04-06T09:55:00
The interesting side of the stressful existence is, of course, the dreams. I gave myself choices of dreams last night, by working on my dissertation, starting to write a book review and by watching Heroes.
My actual dreams were long and convoluted about preparing to attend a rather superior SF convention and being nervous of the guest (who was supposed to be on the same Melbourne tram as me and that tram had three hours of journeying, as Melbourne trams... don't - forty-five minutes is what it will take to reach Continuum by tram in June). I sat in a corner in the tram and wrote up note on three books and then ran out of work, for my netbook had been stolen. I finally decided I had to regain my courage and introduce myself to the guest, who knew people I knew. I had not met her by the time I woke up.
Not the most fascinating dream ever, but, since I'm doomed to have vivid dreams for a bit, at least it was a SFnal vivid dream. The writer I was scared of was Laura Anne Gilman, who indeeed, I have not met, either online or in normal existence, so the tram was daft, but the writerly stuff entirely correct. For the record, my draft reviews were all of pulp fiction. For the record, there were two robustly negative ones and one rather positive. It wasn't a lucid dream, but it was a dream where I could read words on a page and so I carefully wrote out my notes and spelled them to myself as if I were about eight. For this is how a Gillian reads actual words in a dream. I do not know why.
This morning I woke up to one of my email interviews, a review that needs finishing, Chapter Six of my dissertation, no netbook (still) and the realisation that the only food I have left for breakfast is chocolate. I have goat's cheese and chummous and capsicum for lunch. After that it's Pesach all the way. My waking life is possibly more interesting than my dream. In my dream, however, I ran out of work, which is something to be envied.
I need to get started on some of the many things I must do, but I want to go back to bed and see what else I can dream. It's either that or tackle the sixteen things on my today's list, most of which are big items and one of which is washing my kitchen floor, which means working out how and why my mop fell to pieces yesterday and puzzling it back together.
Instead of all this, I shall have my breakfast chocolate, and also a cuppa and maybe make a start on the next stage of Chapter Six.
My actual dreams were long and convoluted about preparing to attend a rather superior SF convention and being nervous of the guest (who was supposed to be on the same Melbourne tram as me and that tram had three hours of journeying, as Melbourne trams... don't - forty-five minutes is what it will take to reach Continuum by tram in June). I sat in a corner in the tram and wrote up note on three books and then ran out of work, for my netbook had been stolen. I finally decided I had to regain my courage and introduce myself to the guest, who knew people I knew. I had not met her by the time I woke up.
Not the most fascinating dream ever, but, since I'm doomed to have vivid dreams for a bit, at least it was a SFnal vivid dream. The writer I was scared of was Laura Anne Gilman, who indeeed, I have not met, either online or in normal existence, so the tram was daft, but the writerly stuff entirely correct. For the record, my draft reviews were all of pulp fiction. For the record, there were two robustly negative ones and one rather positive. It wasn't a lucid dream, but it was a dream where I could read words on a page and so I carefully wrote out my notes and spelled them to myself as if I were about eight. For this is how a Gillian reads actual words in a dream. I do not know why.
This morning I woke up to one of my email interviews, a review that needs finishing, Chapter Six of my dissertation, no netbook (still) and the realisation that the only food I have left for breakfast is chocolate. I have goat's cheese and chummous and capsicum for lunch. After that it's Pesach all the way. My waking life is possibly more interesting than my dream. In my dream, however, I ran out of work, which is something to be envied.
I need to get started on some of the many things I must do, but I want to go back to bed and see what else I can dream. It's either that or tackle the sixteen things on my today's list, most of which are big items and one of which is washing my kitchen floor, which means working out how and why my mop fell to pieces yesterday and puzzling it back together.
Instead of all this, I shall have my breakfast chocolate, and also a cuppa and maybe make a start on the next stage of Chapter Six.
gillpolack @ 2012-04-05T18:19:00
I've reached the inescapable moment when the big stack of papers must be sorted. By 'the big stack of papers' I mean the nice pile that was in order when the burglar struck. It now contains phone trees from ten years ago and postcards from friends and almost everything under the sun. The question is, of course, whether it also contains the tax papers that comprised it originally.
I've been so scared that it wouldn't or that some will have ended up elsewhere (the way all the other papers ended up on top if it), that I put off tackling it. I've told myself very firmly that I'm not allowed dinner until a start has been made.
'A start' - throwing out a ten year old dance group phone tree is not a start; finding evidence that I travelled last year is not a start; putting the postcards aside with a sigh is not a start; finding a pile of poems by a student is not a start. What the thief appears to have done is to have brought all my various papers in together, and then redistributed them to the old piles, but with different contents.
What I intend to do tonight is to delve to the tax level of this one stack and find out how much is there. I'm hoping it's most of it. Then I can tackle the other renewed piles.
By the end of next week, not only will I have done my tax return (finally) but I shall have got rid of many old pieces of paper and created flat surfaces in a place that believes that books are the only permissible flat surfaces. I can't - in fact - do one without the other. My big consolation is that there seems to be no diminution in the amount of paper I have. It's skillfully rearranged, but the thief only took blank envelopes (a lot of them!) and a ream of white paper.
From Saturday, I'm open to drop-in guests. Ring me first, and I'll give you tea or coffee and we can chat while I work my way through this peculiar task. There is no kosher for Passover chocolate this year, for Coles didn't do their order in time. (There might be some now, but of course I can't get there now!)
Where's Rumpelstiltzkin when I need him? And why don't I get some glorious reward at the end of it?
ETA: All my bank records are there. Since they were distributed pretty evenly through the originally stack, it means that things are messy (which they were anyway - just differently messy!), but probably all there. I do suspect that my tax might be do-able.
I've been so scared that it wouldn't or that some will have ended up elsewhere (the way all the other papers ended up on top if it), that I put off tackling it. I've told myself very firmly that I'm not allowed dinner until a start has been made.
'A start' - throwing out a ten year old dance group phone tree is not a start; finding evidence that I travelled last year is not a start; putting the postcards aside with a sigh is not a start; finding a pile of poems by a student is not a start. What the thief appears to have done is to have brought all my various papers in together, and then redistributed them to the old piles, but with different contents.
What I intend to do tonight is to delve to the tax level of this one stack and find out how much is there. I'm hoping it's most of it. Then I can tackle the other renewed piles.
By the end of next week, not only will I have done my tax return (finally) but I shall have got rid of many old pieces of paper and created flat surfaces in a place that believes that books are the only permissible flat surfaces. I can't - in fact - do one without the other. My big consolation is that there seems to be no diminution in the amount of paper I have. It's skillfully rearranged, but the thief only took blank envelopes (a lot of them!) and a ream of white paper.
From Saturday, I'm open to drop-in guests. Ring me first, and I'll give you tea or coffee and we can chat while I work my way through this peculiar task. There is no kosher for Passover chocolate this year, for Coles didn't do their order in time. (There might be some now, but of course I can't get there now!)
Where's Rumpelstiltzkin when I need him? And why don't I get some glorious reward at the end of it?
ETA: All my bank records are there. Since they were distributed pretty evenly through the originally stack, it means that things are messy (which they were anyway - just differently messy!), but probably all there. I do suspect that my tax might be do-able.
gillpolack @ 2012-04-05T13:16:00
Sleeping is a very useful thing. While I was asleep I resolved which chapters of the concerning book I actually needed (and I've started note-taking from those chapters and, indeed, they are useful). I am breathing better. I am less grumpy. I am, however, still in need of tea and chocolate.
I only have eighteen things on my list today (ambition should be made of sterner stuff, I know) and of those, I've completed six. Life is so very possible that I'm going to eat lunch. Today, you see, is a day for derring-do.
I only have eighteen things on my list today (ambition should be made of sterner stuff, I know) and of those, I've completed six. Life is so very possible that I'm going to eat lunch. Today, you see, is a day for derring-do.
Helen Lowe
Just when you thought my special guests had all gone home! I have a few surprises in store...
Today, NA author Helen Lowe is visiting. This is part of her online tour for her new book. I love her writing and am very happy to have her drop in today. I met her at AussieCon and instantly thought "This is someone I can respect." Since then I've discovered she's not only worthy of respect, she's a wonderful writer and a good friend and deals with earthquakes better than almost anyone.
Historical Influences on THE WALL OF NIGHT Series and The Gathering of the Lost
On January 26 I was a guest on Orbit, here, with a post about the shaping of The Heir of Night – and THE WALL OF NIGHT quartet – through myth, legend and history. In terms of history I discussed the classic epic fantasy world with its debt to medieval Europe, the youthful age of the protagonists and the Derai people's elitism and militarism, with a specific nod to Sparta as much to societies like the Teutonic knights. I also noted that although historical understanding, particularly of societal division, conflict and discrimination, informs THE WALL OF NIGHT series, it is not based on any one period or incident in history. This is a deliberate decision on my part, because the closer one comes to real history, the more historically accurate the story has to be—and often the magical and sense of the fantastic become correspondingly difficult to sustain.
I believe there is a place for both kinds of storytelling in epic fantasy – but the WALL series is very much a mythic and magical story, as well as a swashbuckling and adventurous one, a tradition that continues in the second novel, The Gathering of the Lost. For this reason, although there are several strong historical influences on the new book, I have kept them broad-brush – the 'frame' rather than the 'painting' itself.
Some of the historical influences I have most enjoyed working with include giving something of the cultural flavour of Italy in the late medieval and early Renaissance period to the River, with its independent city states and great princely and merchant trading families. Ij is even a city built on islands between the mouth of the great river, Ijir, and the sea. When looking at geographic influences, however, readers could as well look to Bangkok with its khlongs, or Stockholm on its islands between Lake Malar and the Baltic, as to Venice and its canals.
Another equally strong influence is that of medieval France on Emer—which like historic Burgundy is a duchy and famous for its heavily armoured knights. The training of the Emerian knights, as well as their capabilities, have been very much influenced by the Burgundian knights—although the reference to such traditions as springtime love with its song cycles, is derived from the earlier period of the troubadours and courtly love. The names of many of the characters, such as Raher, Girvase and Hirluin, are based on a more distant period again, that of Old French. There are also references to the Norse influence through Normandy, for example Audin and Hamar, and also further afield, to the Holy Roman Empire, with names such as Ghiselaine.
The historical influence is not limited to people's names, but also to the geography of the Emerian duchy, where regions are named for both heraldic colours, such as Argent (silver), Azur (blue) and Vert (green), and also heraldic beasts, including Allerion (an eagle variant) Lyon and Griffon.
I believe the use of historical influences, not just on themes and societies but also on names and geography, gives colour and texture to fantastic world building, But because this is fantasy and not history, the decision to draw influences from across time periods was an informed and deliberate one.
Helen Lowe is a novelist, poet, and interviewer. She has twice won the Sir Julius Vogel Award for achievement in SFF, for Thornspell (Knopf) in 2009 and The Heir of Night (The Wall of Night Book One) in 2011. She is currently the writer-in-residence at the University of Canterbury. Helen posts every day on her Helen Lowe on Anything, Really blog and you can also follow her on Twitter: @helenl0we
Today, NA author Helen Lowe is visiting. This is part of her online tour for her new book. I love her writing and am very happy to have her drop in today. I met her at AussieCon and instantly thought "This is someone I can respect." Since then I've discovered she's not only worthy of respect, she's a wonderful writer and a good friend and deals with earthquakes better than almost anyone.
Historical Influences on THE WALL OF NIGHT Series and The Gathering of the Lost
On January 26 I was a guest on Orbit, here, with a post about the shaping of The Heir of Night – and THE WALL OF NIGHT quartet – through myth, legend and history. In terms of history I discussed the classic epic fantasy world with its debt to medieval Europe, the youthful age of the protagonists and the Derai people's elitism and militarism, with a specific nod to Sparta as much to societies like the Teutonic knights. I also noted that although historical understanding, particularly of societal division, conflict and discrimination, informs THE WALL OF NIGHT series, it is not based on any one period or incident in history. This is a deliberate decision on my part, because the closer one comes to real history, the more historically accurate the story has to be—and often the magical and sense of the fantastic become correspondingly difficult to sustain.
I believe there is a place for both kinds of storytelling in epic fantasy – but the WALL series is very much a mythic and magical story, as well as a swashbuckling and adventurous one, a tradition that continues in the second novel, The Gathering of the Lost. For this reason, although there are several strong historical influences on the new book, I have kept them broad-brush – the 'frame' rather than the 'painting' itself.
Some of the historical influences I have most enjoyed working with include giving something of the cultural flavour of Italy in the late medieval and early Renaissance period to the River, with its independent city states and great princely and merchant trading families. Ij is even a city built on islands between the mouth of the great river, Ijir, and the sea. When looking at geographic influences, however, readers could as well look to Bangkok with its khlongs, or Stockholm on its islands between Lake Malar and the Baltic, as to Venice and its canals.
Another equally strong influence is that of medieval France on Emer—which like historic Burgundy is a duchy and famous for its heavily armoured knights. The training of the Emerian knights, as well as their capabilities, have been very much influenced by the Burgundian knights—although the reference to such traditions as springtime love with its song cycles, is derived from the earlier period of the troubadours and courtly love. The names of many of the characters, such as Raher, Girvase and Hirluin, are based on a more distant period again, that of Old French. There are also references to the Norse influence through Normandy, for example Audin and Hamar, and also further afield, to the Holy Roman Empire, with names such as Ghiselaine.
The historical influence is not limited to people's names, but also to the geography of the Emerian duchy, where regions are named for both heraldic colours, such as Argent (silver), Azur (blue) and Vert (green), and also heraldic beasts, including Allerion (an eagle variant) Lyon and Griffon.
I believe the use of historical influences, not just on themes and societies but also on names and geography, gives colour and texture to fantastic world building, But because this is fantasy and not history, the decision to draw influences from across time periods was an informed and deliberate one.
Helen Lowe is a novelist, poet, and interviewer. She has twice won the Sir Julius Vogel Award for achievement in SFF, for Thornspell (Knopf) in 2009 and The Heir of Night (The Wall of Night Book One) in 2011. She is currently the writer-in-residence at the University of Canterbury. Helen posts every day on her Helen Lowe on Anything, Really blog and you can also follow her on Twitter: @helenl0we
April 4, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-04-04T23:16:00
I can't work out if my last book for the day is something that ought to transform my research forever or is so off-base that I should just ignore it. I am taking
![[info]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1380938211i/3404277.gif)
yasminke
's advice and giving up on work until tomorrow. I can't go without doing something to justify my existence, however, so I shall give you some links:
I wrote a guest post http://www.glynisj.com/2012/04/02/guest-post-gillian-polack-her-thoughts-about-values/.
Anna Tambour was going to give me a post for WHM, but, she says "But I think that instead, I would rather your readers see a column by Marcus Ng, on zhaitang. And what are they? It's all explained here:
http://poskod.sg/Posts/2012/3/7/Retired-Homes
"Many of these solitary women migrants came to live together in zhaitang, which drew upon a strain of independence with roots in a 19th-century movement in the Shunde district of Guangdong, whereby girls refused the captivity of traditional marriage and organised themselves into self-sustaining collectives." "
And, finally, did I link to this week's BiblioBuffet*? http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/1730-navigating-the-unvoid-040112
That's not nearly enough links. If any of you have websites you feel are worth a look, feel free to share them in the comments.
On a final note - does anyone want an open question period? April is a questioning kind of month, and I'm willing to have one if there is a need for it.
*I have trained my column so it's the URL that appears when I type 'book' into my browser. There are possibly more useful things I could have done with my time that day.
yasminke
's advice and giving up on work until tomorrow. I can't go without doing something to justify my existence, however, so I shall give you some links:I wrote a guest post http://www.glynisj.com/2012/04/02/guest-post-gillian-polack-her-thoughts-about-values/.
Anna Tambour was going to give me a post for WHM, but, she says "But I think that instead, I would rather your readers see a column by Marcus Ng, on zhaitang. And what are they? It's all explained here:
http://poskod.sg/Posts/2012/3/7/Retired-Homes
"Many of these solitary women migrants came to live together in zhaitang, which drew upon a strain of independence with roots in a 19th-century movement in the Shunde district of Guangdong, whereby girls refused the captivity of traditional marriage and organised themselves into self-sustaining collectives." "
And, finally, did I link to this week's BiblioBuffet*? http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/1730-navigating-the-unvoid-040112
That's not nearly enough links. If any of you have websites you feel are worth a look, feel free to share them in the comments.
On a final note - does anyone want an open question period? April is a questioning kind of month, and I'm willing to have one if there is a need for it.
*I have trained my column so it's the URL that appears when I type 'book' into my browser. There are possibly more useful things I could have done with my time that day.
gillpolack @ 2012-04-04T21:31:00
I only have three things left on my tonight's list. Should I do them? Or should I waste much time?
I've run out of baking energy. I have fed the masses this week and have run out of most of the ingredients I needed to run out of. This means I could clean my kitchen tonight? No, I didn't think so either.
I shall finish my three things, just to prove I can do it. Also, because the year just became a little busier, in a good way.
I've run out of baking energy. I have fed the masses this week and have run out of most of the ingredients I needed to run out of. This means I could clean my kitchen tonight? No, I didn't think so either.
I shall finish my three things, just to prove I can do it. Also, because the year just became a little busier, in a good way.
gillpolack @ 2012-04-04T16:41:00
Last night they started much burning off around my part of Canberra. When I did my messages today, everyone was grumpy. I was grumpiest of all.
The burning off began with me having the scariest asthma attack in years. I had even more interesting dreams than the night before, but they were all in three-and-a-bit hour batches (for that is how long the asthma medication lasted).
My messages today were all urgent. It was the last day of class for the term and it was my favourite Wednesday class and they needed something special. And it was all going to be done without much breath.
I survived it. My class survived it. Thank goodness for the cakes from last night (what does Gillian do when she can't breathe? she keeps moving to help relax the spasming muscles making it worse, and warmth and steam help, so inventing one last cake recipe was inevitable) because today's class was all about transitive and intransitive verbs, basic conjugation, prefixes and suffixes, and the origins of dictionaries. My class had asked for these things, but we all made slow work of it. It was still a good class, but there was much effort involved from all parties.
I did my messages on the way home. I was too exhausted by them and by two miles of walking in the grey air and I put the urgent stuff away and then went to lie down. I've only just emerged and think maybe I shall repeat that last step. More sleep. Very, very tempting. Still, I have food, I have done the stuff requiring signature, I've been to the bank, I've taught and I've fed many people much cake.
For a few hours I shall focus on this breathing thing (more antihistamines! more asthma meds! more rest!) and then I shall work my way through the other things that I must do today. The body needs to be given due respect, and it shall be.
The burning off began with me having the scariest asthma attack in years. I had even more interesting dreams than the night before, but they were all in three-and-a-bit hour batches (for that is how long the asthma medication lasted).
My messages today were all urgent. It was the last day of class for the term and it was my favourite Wednesday class and they needed something special. And it was all going to be done without much breath.
I survived it. My class survived it. Thank goodness for the cakes from last night (what does Gillian do when she can't breathe? she keeps moving to help relax the spasming muscles making it worse, and warmth and steam help, so inventing one last cake recipe was inevitable) because today's class was all about transitive and intransitive verbs, basic conjugation, prefixes and suffixes, and the origins of dictionaries. My class had asked for these things, but we all made slow work of it. It was still a good class, but there was much effort involved from all parties.
I did my messages on the way home. I was too exhausted by them and by two miles of walking in the grey air and I put the urgent stuff away and then went to lie down. I've only just emerged and think maybe I shall repeat that last step. More sleep. Very, very tempting. Still, I have food, I have done the stuff requiring signature, I've been to the bank, I've taught and I've fed many people much cake.
For a few hours I shall focus on this breathing thing (more antihistamines! more asthma meds! more rest!) and then I shall work my way through the other things that I must do today. The body needs to be given due respect, and it shall be.
April 3, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-04-03T23:39:00
My new class found out about Evil Teacher tonight. I was teaching them about tension levels on novels and we had some practical examples...
You know, that sounds much more dramatic than it actually was. I might leave you to think the very worst.
Although I also fed them one of my baked inventions and lost the code for the tearoom (so no hot drinks). And now I ought to prepare for tomorrow morning's class. I ought to. After I finish dealing with a mystery allergy attack. I do not enjoy mystery allergy attacks.
You know, that sounds much more dramatic than it actually was. I might leave you to think the very worst.
Although I also fed them one of my baked inventions and lost the code for the tearoom (so no hot drinks). And now I ought to prepare for tomorrow morning's class. I ought to. After I finish dealing with a mystery allergy attack. I do not enjoy mystery allergy attacks.
gillpolack @ 2012-04-03T14:47:00
I'm slowly catching up with all the things that I've had to do since life went funky. If I promised you anything and you don't hear from me by, say, Friday, please feel free to gently remind me!
