Gillian Polack's Blog, page 215
December 30, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-30T16:51:00
Today is rough around the edges. I get angry at things and people (particularly at people who die, but that's a normal part of missing them) and I do stupid things. I need to apologise to everyone around me. Just as well that there aren't many people around me today.
Tomorrow will be better.
Tomorrow will be better.
December 29, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-29T13:22:00
Two deaths this week, both of people who matter to me. One of them was a friend and the other the uncle of one of my closest friends. Another friend is (right this minute) in labour. That's the sublime, both bad and good.
The gorblimey is that I have a summer cold.
There's more to this week, a lot more, but I keep thinking of the people who are gone. They outweigh everything, right now.
This year started with me losing friends and it has ended that way. The middle was pretty amazing, and I was going to do a year in perspective post tomorrow or Saturday but maybe I won't. It's been a strange year and it's coming to a stranger conclusion. I shall end the year more privately, thinking of lost friends and relatives.
The gorblimey is that I have a summer cold.
There's more to this week, a lot more, but I keep thinking of the people who are gone. They outweigh everything, right now.
This year started with me losing friends and it has ended that way. The middle was pretty amazing, and I was going to do a year in perspective post tomorrow or Saturday but maybe I won't. It's been a strange year and it's coming to a stranger conclusion. I shall end the year more privately, thinking of lost friends and relatives.
December 27, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-28T09:12:00
My reading until 9.30 am is the Quantum Physics for Poets book again. There are a couple of things my class didn't quite reach and I want to finish with them. I was distracted, however, by a rather evil remark by Pauli. He apparently said taht he didn't mind that a person thought slowly, but that the person published faster than they thought. Certain pressures in the current writing market place puts some writers in this position. Instead of reading their best work, we're given the half-thought version. It makes no-one happy. There's no easy solution. Some things take more time than others and some circumstances don't permit of that time.
Pressures by publishers are one thing. Pressures by oneself are something else. A potential trap for writers who choose self-publishing is to send work out when it hasn't quite run the distance it needs to run. One of the checks on this with the old publishing system was the eye of an experienced editor. it wasn't a perfect check, of course, but it was there.
As a reader, I'm hoping that our brave new world of publishing will develop some of the checks and timesinks that enabled the writers who actually need that extra time to take it. Right now, one can go straight from writing to Smashwords. This works for some writers, but not for others - and I'm not yet convinced that we all have the skills to know where we fit. Or rather, I'm very convinced that I dont have the skills with my own writing and I have seen maybe one writer in twenty who has those skills innate (of the writers I work work with or know well).
Needing time and checks doesn't make us poor writers. It means we need a particualr environment to produce the work we're capable of to those who (like the legend of Mozart) produce perfect material very quickly.
And now I want a periodic table of writers. The columns would indicate genre affiliation. The numbers are obviously peer recognition (readership and prizes and reviews and fandom, combined in a fascinating formula - call it writer ego?) and the rows...I don't know yet.
Pressures by publishers are one thing. Pressures by oneself are something else. A potential trap for writers who choose self-publishing is to send work out when it hasn't quite run the distance it needs to run. One of the checks on this with the old publishing system was the eye of an experienced editor. it wasn't a perfect check, of course, but it was there.
As a reader, I'm hoping that our brave new world of publishing will develop some of the checks and timesinks that enabled the writers who actually need that extra time to take it. Right now, one can go straight from writing to Smashwords. This works for some writers, but not for others - and I'm not yet convinced that we all have the skills to know where we fit. Or rather, I'm very convinced that I dont have the skills with my own writing and I have seen maybe one writer in twenty who has those skills innate (of the writers I work work with or know well).
Needing time and checks doesn't make us poor writers. It means we need a particualr environment to produce the work we're capable of to those who (like the legend of Mozart) produce perfect material very quickly.
And now I want a periodic table of writers. The columns would indicate genre affiliation. The numbers are obviously peer recognition (readership and prizes and reviews and fandom, combined in a fascinating formula - call it writer ego?) and the rows...I don't know yet.
gillpolack @ 2011-12-27T14:54:00
I'm reading an analysis of the role of preaching in education in the Middle Ages. It struck me that the sources that this study is using still exist for modern preaching. So why don't I automatically assume that those who go to church get this extra source of education?
I do, actually, but only in specific circumstances and I don't tend to think of it as a part of peoples' standard education - whereas in this study, it's definitely part of the standard education. Some of the boundaries between me and the Middle Ages may be of my own making. It's not the past that is foreign, sometimes, it's the way I see the present.
I do, actually, but only in specific circumstances and I don't tend to think of it as a part of peoples' standard education - whereas in this study, it's definitely part of the standard education. Some of the boundaries between me and the Middle Ages may be of my own making. It's not the past that is foreign, sometimes, it's the way I see the present.
gillpolack @ 2011-12-27T14:11:00
Never let it be said that bad nights bring no good. Last night's endurancefest (high pain - all night) caught me up to where I needed to be in my dissertation today, plus I did a bunch of reading for various work things this morning. The cause of this productivity was nothing I ever want to reproduce, but at least I didn't stay in bed all night thinking about the things I thought about (which were none of them good) and at least one of the causes of physical pain* may well be sorted tomorrow.
I'm sorry I didn't make any jokes in honour of my father's birthday yesterday. A friend died on Christmas Eve and everywhere around me yesterday people were talking death and sorrow. It was not a day for making light of life.
I don't know how, but somehow, yesterday, I managed to undo all the housework I did in advance for today. I spent a large chunk of last night and this morning re-doing it. This means that I've entirely run out of steam and can't sweep the patio, which means my friends today will be inside, which may be a bit challenging for the under threes (or maybe for the parents of the under threes). I feel as if I've failed, somehow, when I haven't - I've done more this festive season than any in recent years.
I'm not as much of a blight on the landscape as I usually am at this time of year, but I'm still not a ray of sunshine and joy. I will give you my Zombie Ancestry Theory of History when I meet my next set of deadlines (since I have promised it) - that will change the tone of things...
*The bad tooth is bad enough so the emergency dentist is fitting me in tomorrow morning. I did explain that the pain wasn't too bad and that was a matter for great concern. I suspect that we're talking a dying tooth.
I'm sorry I didn't make any jokes in honour of my father's birthday yesterday. A friend died on Christmas Eve and everywhere around me yesterday people were talking death and sorrow. It was not a day for making light of life.
I don't know how, but somehow, yesterday, I managed to undo all the housework I did in advance for today. I spent a large chunk of last night and this morning re-doing it. This means that I've entirely run out of steam and can't sweep the patio, which means my friends today will be inside, which may be a bit challenging for the under threes (or maybe for the parents of the under threes). I feel as if I've failed, somehow, when I haven't - I've done more this festive season than any in recent years.
I'm not as much of a blight on the landscape as I usually am at this time of year, but I'm still not a ray of sunshine and joy. I will give you my Zombie Ancestry Theory of History when I meet my next set of deadlines (since I have promised it) - that will change the tone of things...
*The bad tooth is bad enough so the emergency dentist is fitting me in tomorrow morning. I did explain that the pain wasn't too bad and that was a matter for great concern. I suspect that we're talking a dying tooth.
December 26, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-26T21:54:00
The article that is really by some of you (the answers to the questions about old books) is now online, for your happy holiday reading: http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/1663-beloved-books-122511
In two weeks time, you'll hear what the other BiblioBuffet writers think.
In two weeks time, you'll hear what the other BiblioBuffet writers think.
gillpolack @ 2011-12-26T13:00:00
The keys to my letterbox have carefully lost themselves again. I'm making a collection of other keys, in case they're the missing back door key. It's all very exciting.
I meant to run messages this morning, but it was not a good morning, so I did bits of sorting and tidying. No more missing keys appeared, but I can see a whole section of my bedroom wall that has been invisible for years, because I was able to dismantle a bit of storage. My ultimate aim is to fit all my books where I can find them...
I meant to run messages this morning, but it was not a good morning, so I did bits of sorting and tidying. No more missing keys appeared, but I can see a whole section of my bedroom wall that has been invisible for years, because I was able to dismantle a bit of storage. My ultimate aim is to fit all my books where I can find them...
December 25, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-25T15:08:00
My mother and I just had our daily chat. Today we talked about the Mitford sisters. Mum has just seen the new Upstairs Downstairs and suspected a Mitford link and we wondered if Nancy Mitford has given us a little England of the sort that Georgette Heyer did, something that can be plundered by writers to create stories and situations*. I found myself beset by a sudden lack of memory, though I did remember that Unity was the Hitlerian and Nancy, of course, is unforgettable. It's the family culture that sticks and the fact that I am seeing it over and over again in works that are loosely based in the 30s and early 40s. Not the whole shebang - just bits and pieces.
By a happy circumstance, my reading for when I've read the four books that remain to me as holiday reading is the letters of the Mitford sisters. Or maybe I could read 100 pages in between each other book? I want to get further into this little world of lifestyles and large characters that is the Mitfords. New narratives aren't taking from the whole Mitford family, I suspect, just from two novels and from related material. In other words, it's England as designed by Nancy. Although it's helped by so many other members of the family being so very writerly.
Thinking about it, it's not really like Georgette Heyer's Regency in the way it works. The mechanics are more like the England of Enid Blyton. If soeone were to write a fan crossover, it would be Secret Seven meet Nancy, Pamela, Thomas, Diana, Unity, Jessica and Deborah (when young, of course).
*This isn't the first time we've had this conversation.
By a happy circumstance, my reading for when I've read the four books that remain to me as holiday reading is the letters of the Mitford sisters. Or maybe I could read 100 pages in between each other book? I want to get further into this little world of lifestyles and large characters that is the Mitfords. New narratives aren't taking from the whole Mitford family, I suspect, just from two novels and from related material. In other words, it's England as designed by Nancy. Although it's helped by so many other members of the family being so very writerly.
Thinking about it, it's not really like Georgette Heyer's Regency in the way it works. The mechanics are more like the England of Enid Blyton. If soeone were to write a fan crossover, it would be Secret Seven meet Nancy, Pamela, Thomas, Diana, Unity, Jessica and Deborah (when young, of course).
*This isn't the first time we've had this conversation.
gillpolack @ 2011-12-25T13:34:00
My seasonal grouch is only going to be one day long this year, I think. Tomorrow afternoon, it will leave, to be replaced by friends and bonhomie. Yesterday afternoon and evening it didn't exist - I had Christmas Eve with some of my favourite friends.
This season is actually one of the best I've ever had, despite the gaping hole in a tooth (dentists in Canberra close very early on 23 December, it appears - but the tooth responds to painkillers) but we have many scraps of storm, sequentially. I feel the storms inside me and so it's hard to work. In other words, I'm grouchy this year because 25 December is a work day* and I want to work and things hurt. Also, people keep wishing me happy midwinter and I look outside and think "And I was certain it was summer. Just goes to show how wrong one can be in evaluating the saesonality of thunderstorms."
If I can get 4 hours of stuff done today, that will do. If I can get 8 hours done today, I shall de-grouch. If I can get 12 hours done today, then I get to go to the sales on Tuesday morning. If I can get 16 hours done today, then I'll regret it entirely.
Have a lovely holiday season.
*The logic of this defeats so many of my friends. My logic is that when all of you take Rosh Hashanah off, then I might be entitled to take Christmas off.
This season is actually one of the best I've ever had, despite the gaping hole in a tooth (dentists in Canberra close very early on 23 December, it appears - but the tooth responds to painkillers) but we have many scraps of storm, sequentially. I feel the storms inside me and so it's hard to work. In other words, I'm grouchy this year because 25 December is a work day* and I want to work and things hurt. Also, people keep wishing me happy midwinter and I look outside and think "And I was certain it was summer. Just goes to show how wrong one can be in evaluating the saesonality of thunderstorms."
If I can get 4 hours of stuff done today, that will do. If I can get 8 hours done today, I shall de-grouch. If I can get 12 hours done today, then I get to go to the sales on Tuesday morning. If I can get 16 hours done today, then I'll regret it entirely.
Have a lovely holiday season.
*The logic of this defeats so many of my friends. My logic is that when all of you take Rosh Hashanah off, then I might be entitled to take Christmas off.
December 24, 2011
gillpolack @ 2011-12-24T11:39:00
This morning I was too tired to move. If I had got a phonecall from the dentist, I would have budged very quickly, but all the stuff I've done over the last few months suddenly overflowed into sleepiness and the phone was silent.
I'm working over the next few days, but not so much. Since all the outside deadlines are met (except for one book review and one paper that has unaccountably re-appeared just when I thought it was dead) I shall work on the dissertation and a little bit on the novel and do the minimum of paperwork (three forms, folks, no more) and that's all between now and next year. In the interstices (for this will leave interstices - lazy interstices!) I shall see friends and I shall watch DVDs and I shall sleep. There will be much Dr Who. I might read. I have five books to read between now and 4 January, which is nothing. In fact, I shall return to bed and read one now and have only four books to read...
I've been getting more and more tired these last few weeks and small things have gone more and more wrong. I shall schedule a few more days time-out next year, I think and now, well, it's summertime. I shall sing Gershwin loudly and offkey and convince myself that the living is easy and that I can reach the sky and that it's slowtime.
I'm working over the next few days, but not so much. Since all the outside deadlines are met (except for one book review and one paper that has unaccountably re-appeared just when I thought it was dead) I shall work on the dissertation and a little bit on the novel and do the minimum of paperwork (three forms, folks, no more) and that's all between now and next year. In the interstices (for this will leave interstices - lazy interstices!) I shall see friends and I shall watch DVDs and I shall sleep. There will be much Dr Who. I might read. I have five books to read between now and 4 January, which is nothing. In fact, I shall return to bed and read one now and have only four books to read...
I've been getting more and more tired these last few weeks and small things have gone more and more wrong. I shall schedule a few more days time-out next year, I think and now, well, it's summertime. I shall sing Gershwin loudly and offkey and convince myself that the living is easy and that I can reach the sky and that it's slowtime.
