Gillian Polack's Blog, page 288
October 29, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-29T11:39:00
I just went to check mail (no letters!) and overheard the girl next door (about 8) ask her mother plaintively "Um, do you know where the tapwater is?"
I'm very curious to know what answers my friends would have given her, if they had been asked.
I'm afraid my response would have been to make her analyse the words and deduce that tapwater could be found by turning on the tap. This is what was done unto me by my parents when I asked such things.
I'm very curious to know what answers my friends would have given her, if they had been asked.
I'm afraid my response would have been to make her analyse the words and deduce that tapwater could be found by turning on the tap. This is what was done unto me by my parents when I asked such things.
October 28, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-28T16:23:00
I've done a bunch of reading fiction today, a bunch of sorting notes (and more to come - my whole evening is going to be about sorting notes and turning scribbles into chronology and people) and the vast bulk of the internet checking I've been putting off. The internet checking was a bit of a pain, but necessary. I still have maybe an hour's work to do on it. It's an intellectual crossing ts and dotting is and generally making sure I haven't missed major things in my basic history for the period of my novel. I also do many book checks and a series of hunts through bibliographies for this, of course. I'm lazy, I guess, but not stupid. Well, not very stupid.
Anyhow, there are definitely prizes for doing basic checks. One of the things I was sorting was the status of scientific instruments (who had what and where and what they actually did). This meant I got to play with this page. It's a gorgeous page for a fan of science and history and science fiction. Every link holds a potential dream or costume idea or story. In terms of my research, each and every one of those artefacts reinforced that I actually know what I think I know and I'm not about to do something egregiously stupid.
All this is because today is Thursday. Thursday's become a hard-work day for my dissertation and novel, simply because Tuesday and Wednesday are days with teaching for the next three weeks, and so I have to make up the time. I only missed two hours of study yesterday and the day before, so that's four hours extra today and I'm totally sorted (after November, I'm only teaching on Wednesday's, so Thursday won't be quite so intimidating - my bank balance, on the other hand, will diminish).
This picture alone made those extra four hours today totally wonderful and worthwhile. If anyone's wondering what to give me for my fiftieth birthday, a reproduction of one of those would make me extraordinarily happy. Mind you, good coffee and chocolate and books and time with friends and old houses and strange foodstuffs all also make me extraordinarily happy. And people wanting to learn from me. And people enjoying my writing. I'm easily made happy. I'm also easily distracted. I have 12 more websites to check before I can pat myself on the back and be impressed with my endeavours. En avant!
Anyhow, there are definitely prizes for doing basic checks. One of the things I was sorting was the status of scientific instruments (who had what and where and what they actually did). This meant I got to play with this page. It's a gorgeous page for a fan of science and history and science fiction. Every link holds a potential dream or costume idea or story. In terms of my research, each and every one of those artefacts reinforced that I actually know what I think I know and I'm not about to do something egregiously stupid.
All this is because today is Thursday. Thursday's become a hard-work day for my dissertation and novel, simply because Tuesday and Wednesday are days with teaching for the next three weeks, and so I have to make up the time. I only missed two hours of study yesterday and the day before, so that's four hours extra today and I'm totally sorted (after November, I'm only teaching on Wednesday's, so Thursday won't be quite so intimidating - my bank balance, on the other hand, will diminish).
This picture alone made those extra four hours today totally wonderful and worthwhile. If anyone's wondering what to give me for my fiftieth birthday, a reproduction of one of those would make me extraordinarily happy. Mind you, good coffee and chocolate and books and time with friends and old houses and strange foodstuffs all also make me extraordinarily happy. And people wanting to learn from me. And people enjoying my writing. I'm easily made happy. I'm also easily distracted. I have 12 more websites to check before I can pat myself on the back and be impressed with my endeavours. En avant!
October 27, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-27T16:09:00
I was reading an anthology by Steven Utley on the bus this morning. I've been dabbling with it for a bit, thinking about how I shall approach writing about it, because it very much needs writing about. I was thinking about it and about a bunch of other books I've read recently. I can now state the obvious with utmost certainty: one of the silent components in a story that entraps me is the fact that both the writer and the editor have a firm grasp of the English language.
I'm not just talking about how the writer avoids randomly generated apostrophes, but also how a sense of flow develops and how phrases fit tightly into ideas. How the eye is led down the page and why a paragraph needs to work grammatically to achieve its literary goals.
Inevitably the writing that annoys me is good writing where the writer or the editor or both don't have the command they need and the story falls short. If a book is badly written from other angles, I can deal. I'm totally annoyed when a book has the potential to be utterly amazing but fails because of a series of simple and avoidable errors.
Why did I realise this reading Utley? He nails it. Every time. He has a very good toolbox at his disposal and he uses it, without fanfare. His stories say what he intends them to say.
PS Blame Russell Farr of Ticonderoga Publications for this post. He's the one who gave me the book and challenged me to review it. Blame him for me finally seeing the obvious. He's also the person you can buy a copy of Ghost Seas from, if you want to read what I'm talking about. Also blame him for the article I'll be writing about Utley later today. That article may take some weeks to appear.
I'm not just talking about how the writer avoids randomly generated apostrophes, but also how a sense of flow develops and how phrases fit tightly into ideas. How the eye is led down the page and why a paragraph needs to work grammatically to achieve its literary goals.
Inevitably the writing that annoys me is good writing where the writer or the editor or both don't have the command they need and the story falls short. If a book is badly written from other angles, I can deal. I'm totally annoyed when a book has the potential to be utterly amazing but fails because of a series of simple and avoidable errors.
Why did I realise this reading Utley? He nails it. Every time. He has a very good toolbox at his disposal and he uses it, without fanfare. His stories say what he intends them to say.
PS Blame Russell Farr of Ticonderoga Publications for this post. He's the one who gave me the book and challenged me to review it. Blame him for me finally seeing the obvious. He's also the person you can buy a copy of Ghost Seas from, if you want to read what I'm talking about. Also blame him for the article I'll be writing about Utley later today. That article may take some weeks to appear.
October 26, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-26T21:52:00
I decided that tonight was a tired night and so I'm afraid I took some of my favourite toys along to class. This is my world-building class. I used the Fourth Doctor, a couple of superheroes and my solitary anime figurine to get my students thinking about posture and movement and cultural space and building a world that includes eye contact and ways of walking. We also did a bit of walking, I admit, plus we played with my baby artist model. Then we moved back to the Middle Ages and Renaissance and extrapolated from what we had learned from action figures so that we could analyse pictures and portraits. I would really like more action figurines - I think they're handy for teaching as well as (their current use) protecting bookshelves.
When we finished sorting out movement and posture and personal space and lots of their consequences, we moved on to magic. I didn't manage to spook anyone out, but we did cover the differences between a realistic (based on medieval cosmology) magic system and how it works, and then what gets added to it by people who live in their own complex worlds.
And that was teaching tonight. Toys and pretty pictures and much magic.
When we finished sorting out movement and posture and personal space and lots of their consequences, we moved on to magic. I didn't manage to spook anyone out, but we did cover the differences between a realistic (based on medieval cosmology) magic system and how it works, and then what gets added to it by people who live in their own complex worlds.
And that was teaching tonight. Toys and pretty pictures and much magic.
gillpolack @ 2010-10-26T11:55:00
Three years ago, when things began to get rather uncheerful, I decided that I would give myself presents for major festivals, so that if no-one else remembered, I'd still have gorgeous things in my life. Once, twice or even three times a year I'd actually buy something I didn't need, regardless of the finances. Something that I wanted.
Right now, I'm drinking amazingly good coffee (Costa Rica Tarrazu, possibly a slightly darker roast than it ought to be, by just a fraction of a shade) as a result of this and I'm listening to the CD that came with the most recent issue of Southern Cultures. I bought a subscription for myself for last Rosh Hashanah and for this, I bought the coffee. Good thoughts, both.
Right now, I'm drinking amazingly good coffee (Costa Rica Tarrazu, possibly a slightly darker roast than it ought to be, by just a fraction of a shade) as a result of this and I'm listening to the CD that came with the most recent issue of Southern Cultures. I bought a subscription for myself for last Rosh Hashanah and for this, I bought the coffee. Good thoughts, both.
October 25, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-25T16:23:00
I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have a new Bibliobuffet article up here. It's about food. And recipes. And where a particular writer found his recipes. And nineteenth century travel guides. And chorizo. I think I've been remiss in pointing to other articles of mine, and good stuff on the site in general, so you might want to take a wander round and examine the archives and generally enjoy things.
The bad news is that I have the rather special virus that is overtaking Canberra and Western Sydney. I've had it for a few days, I suspect, but it's only become completely obvious now.
I've cancelled everything except teaching for tomorrow and Wednesday. Today I do a bit of work and a bit of bedrest and then a bit more work and then a bit more bedrest. This means I should be able to meet all my obligations. I do want to whinge a bit, though - it's a nasty little creature, this virus and makes people prone to whingeing. If I whinge too much, I shall descend on the chemist after work on Wednesday and buy lots of tinctures. That'll serve me right, because they all taste foul.
One good thing - I have lots of books to read. In fact, I have two really gorgeous review books that I need to have written about this week. I shall take them to bed with me for this bout of bedrest. Short stories by scintillating fiction writers are totally perfect when one's brain is mostly operational and one's body is not.
The bad news is that I have the rather special virus that is overtaking Canberra and Western Sydney. I've had it for a few days, I suspect, but it's only become completely obvious now.
I've cancelled everything except teaching for tomorrow and Wednesday. Today I do a bit of work and a bit of bedrest and then a bit more work and then a bit more bedrest. This means I should be able to meet all my obligations. I do want to whinge a bit, though - it's a nasty little creature, this virus and makes people prone to whingeing. If I whinge too much, I shall descend on the chemist after work on Wednesday and buy lots of tinctures. That'll serve me right, because they all taste foul.
One good thing - I have lots of books to read. In fact, I have two really gorgeous review books that I need to have written about this week. I shall take them to bed with me for this bout of bedrest. Short stories by scintillating fiction writers are totally perfect when one's brain is mostly operational and one's body is not.
October 24, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-24T23:43:00
I'm so proud of myself. I've solved the work problem. I've made myself a "Must do this URGENTLY" list for tomorrow. No worries!
gillpolack @ 2010-10-24T23:22:00
I'm now finding excuses not to work. I've cleared most of that table and sorted my two foot pile of papers down to one foot (most of which is no longer on my floor). I've created more scrap paper to work on and I've made any number of silly comments on the blogs of others (sorry!). I guess I've just run out of excuses...
gillpolack @ 2010-10-24T15:51:00
There's a small part of myself that wants to become firework because someone in my general vicinity is being small-minded and very petty. They're always like this and I always react.
If that person is going to be forever an idiot (unlikely to change or even want to) then obviously it's incumbent on me to modify my reaction. I expect to get lots of work done in the next hour, as I focus all that explosive annoyance on getting tasks done. Who knows, my coffee table might lose its dynamic sculptural appearance as it sheds the layers of notes and papers and bills and books and, oh, look, preserved plum-chilli snacks. Imagine, there's sixties glass under all that. Even under the preserved plum-chilli snacks.
You'll know I'm no longer annoyed when that glass is visible and beautifully clean.
ETA: There's a silver lining, always. Mostly always. Today's silver lining is that there were nine pens hidden under the debris on that table. Also much bibliography.
If that person is going to be forever an idiot (unlikely to change or even want to) then obviously it's incumbent on me to modify my reaction. I expect to get lots of work done in the next hour, as I focus all that explosive annoyance on getting tasks done. Who knows, my coffee table might lose its dynamic sculptural appearance as it sheds the layers of notes and papers and bills and books and, oh, look, preserved plum-chilli snacks. Imagine, there's sixties glass under all that. Even under the preserved plum-chilli snacks.
You'll know I'm no longer annoyed when that glass is visible and beautifully clean.
ETA: There's a silver lining, always. Mostly always. Today's silver lining is that there were nine pens hidden under the debris on that table. Also much bibliography.
October 23, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-23T22:20:00
I'm eschewing paper. This has nothing to do with the two foot high stack that I started exploring to find some missing certificates I need to fill in university paperwork. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that the two foot high pile is now only six inches high and my floor has a soft new carpet. I rather suspect that the migraine I weathered earlier hadn't gone quite as far as I thought. I can think of no other reason why paper would slide so simply and spread itself so very finely. None.
