Gillian Polack's Blog, page 31

gillpolack @ 2015-05-16T16:32:00

Today is just not working. I need a restart button.

I've done stuff, but not enough. It feels like a weather shift, but the BOM tells me it's bright and sparkly weather all the way.

I think I shall spend the next few hours fighting with the colonisation of my loungeroom by paper and reduce the tasks to a dealable number. This is y revenge against the day.

Eurovision is next weekend. That's solve everything. It would solve more if I had a party to go to, but I have both TV and computer and can always work in front of it. This year I get to vote! Australia is in Europe for three days! Just what we've always dreamed of! Now, how to introduce proper Eurovision drinking games into fan circles in Europe...


PS It turns out that today wasn't working because of the virus I knew I had. I have a sparkly fever to match the sparkly day. I feel that this is the healing part of it ie it will be over tomorrow. If it isn't over tomorrow, then I shall take a nap in the afternoon, because i can if I finish that piece of fiction tonight. Which I shall.

PPS This is the first story I've written with so much aid from Google Earth. I have my own pictures for this region, but it's so much more fun this way.

gillpolack @ 2015-05-16T10:57:00

My doorbell is much-used this morning.

First was the call at 3 am. I think it must've been due to sparks or electronic malfunctioning, for there was no-one there.

Second was a real-life actual parcel that someone forgot to deliver yesterday. This means I received three parcels this week, and only have two outstanding. One of the parcels was author copies. There's something very special about author copies.

Just now were two sari's worth of very Christian women, trying to bring me into their lifestyle or beliefs. I didn't try to argue or discuss, or even to tell them I've got my own religion and don't need theirs. I look so worn from the night (for the 3 am bell was only a part of it) that I was able to legitimately claim unwellness. It took me three times saying "I'm sick - I just want to go back to bed" but they left. If they come again, I will point out that anyone who puts their doorbell needs above my needs for sleep is not persuading me to change much of anything. They did offer to leave me reading material, which is something, but what they should've done is say "Oh, I'm sorry to bother you. Get well soon." Anyone who is thinking of converting me, please remember this for future use.

Which brings me to the fact that I have a virus. Not a serious one. One of those where random muscle aches create much discomfort, but there's nothing seriously wrong.

I'll be writing today, for today is a writing day, but I shall also do some careful resting, so's to encourage this virus to be gone faster than the third doorbell folk.

Writers block - irregular reflections episode 2

I've learned to identify my thinking modes. The most intrusive has caught up with me and I've spent a lot of spare time yesterday and today half-watching a complete season of a TV series. Obviously, I need to think. I know it's thinking rather than watching TV, because look, I'm multitasking. I'm still paying attention to the television, but my mind is in six other places as well. Since the series has only 2 episodes to go, I must be near writing time. This is good, because tomorrow is a writing day.

I don't have writers' block. I have the need to think, somewhere, deep in the recesses of my brain. I have the luxury to do this, so I am, and my writing will be the better for it. When I don't have the luxury, I deal. I note to myself that I need to revisit it later if the piece is a draft and there will be time later, because it's not going to be properly developed. Or I write and just accept that it won't have that connected feeling that properly considered writing has.

Now you know. Not only do you know that not all things we think of as blocking our writing are actually doing so: some of them are actually helping us with us, but now you know why my writing can be a little patchy. Sometimes it's tolerable and sometimes it's really, really good. Imbibing TV the way some people imbibe alcohol is just one of my tricks for getting that thinking done, safely. It's the one I'm doing today. This means that whatever I write tomorrow is going to me so much better than otherwise. If I'm really lucky, my mind is processing both the story adn the monograph and I have gained hours of work from apparent time out.

gillpolack @ 2015-05-14T10:10:00

My weather sense is still impeccable.

I didn't get much work done last night and my body kept demanding more and more warmth, even though the outside temperature was above zero and the Bureau of Meteorology said that it would only be zero overnight. This is cold for Australia, but not the sort of thing that triggers the physical reaction I had.

Fortunately I listened to my body and caught up on some reading and went to bed warm and comfortable, for it was close to -5 around 6 am. Midwinter temperatures. I will rug up extra warmly for class tonight. My big coat, I think, and my new scarf and warmer footwear. Hopefully I get a lift home tonight, but it'll start getting cool by 5 pm.

Those friends who live in cooler climes, it isn't actually the temperature that's the problem, it's that our places are built for the warmth, not the cold, as a rule.

And this is in lieu of a proper post, for I'm wondering about various friends and their autumn gardens. I suspect some green tomato pickle in their future.

gillpolack @ 2015-05-13T19:38:00

My last night's class explored various stuff used in fiction through their physical equivalent (except for the purple alien, which was instantly understood for its literary purpose), and today my class moved from chapbooks to letter writing. And now I'm frozen. Officially. It's five degrees and only 7.30 pm, so we've entered our pre-winter chill period, and this year I'm out in it two nights a week. Not tonight, though. Tonight I've already changed into PJs, my doona is warming over the heater, I have Tove Jansson to read and my deadlines can wait until my brain's unthawed.

In a few weeks this temperature will be normal (though it won't have the rain and hail and snow that Canberra experienced today) but my body needs to adjust. I'm already wearing my felt pixie slippers and when it gets chilly enough so that working is warmer than watching TV and eating dinner, the down dressing gown will be pressed into service.

At any rate, I've done a heap of various things today. Small messages. Teaching. A bunch of thinking about how different definitions of story space can lead to issues when one discusses it, and progress on the block I had for my story (I've given myself a later deadline on the latter, under the circumstances). The big things start at 9.30, for i won't sleep well until the outside temperature has stabilised, which will be maybe 1 am. That gives me 3 1/2 to 4 hours to solve all my life's problems. And I don't have to start quite yet...

gillpolack @ 2015-05-12T10:22:00

Some very good things this morning, but not much sleep. Last night was high pain, so I worked on Chapter Four of the Foul Monograph and sorted out a whole sequence. The chapter is still over 10,000 words, which isn't too long if they're the right words. Currently it's disconnected and only some of the words are the right words.

I found out why it's disconnected at 1 am. I have solved another Big Issue relating to method. I didn't know I had big issues relating to method: all I knew was that certain aspects didn't quite come together. I was doing the equivalent of head-hopping, but in a scholarly way (I wasn't distinguishing clearly between two types of story space). Now that this is solved, I can finish the chapter by the end of the week, all going well. I'll feel much better when that's done and the story's done.

The story I'm working on has been delayed because the changes one of the crit group people suggested took all the momentum out of it. I was thinking them through and just thinking them through ripped the guts out of the story, which was a very odd experience. What this means is that the one reader didn't see what kind of story it was, and I can't work out why he didn't see it when three others got it perfectly well. I've decided to finish anyhow, and hope the momentum rediscovers itself (for I have a deadline) and I've asked a couple of other writers to please take a look when it's done and check.

Part of the problem is that the crit suggested I combine the two protagonists and have just one. This would give me a buddy road story without the buddies and without any reason for most of the road and the particular paths they took (it's easier to go from A to B with just one person) and with no actual reason for the stranger events. A very short road trip with no tension. I spent three days looking at what would happen if I conflated (as suggested) a woman in her 20s with a woman in her 40s and made a very confused person-of-one-character. And I tried to work out what story it would be if the one-with-two-minds-and-goodness-knows-what-age-body travelled simply from A to B. Then I realised I was wasting a vast amount of time and energy. It either is a buddy road story or it isn't and if it is, then those changes don't work and if it isn't then the whole story doesn't work and changing those elements won't help.

I think the moral of this is that crits should address the actual story in hand.

Criticism in general should do that, too. I've encountered passionate criticism of the behaviour of others this year (this has been building a while) and it's sent waves of negativity into its surrounds. I think my favourite was a defence of special treats and of awards. The summary was "I do more than anyone else so I deserve this."

"I deserve this" works on its own.

I saw it a few times this Mothers' Day though not as much as last year*. This year a whole bunch of people were reaching out to those who have lost their mothers or suffered bad parenting or were alone, which was wonderfully heartening. It also made the "I deserve this and look how many things I've done that you haven't" attitude that the few took more jarring than usual. It made me remember that there is no fault in not having children (and often quite a lot of pain) and that those of us who are single and alone have different lives. No biggie, most of the time. Quite a biggie when it's implied that we're worse humans because of it.

If someone gives you something nice or treats you well or if there's a special day honouring a part of who you are or if you win an award, accept it and enjoy it. You deserve it. You don't need to tell others they don't, or even to justify how tough your life is compared with the life of someone like me. Just enjoy it. Then I can enjoy it with you and for you, without feeling as if my face has been rubbed into something.

I know it's not terribly typical of Australia to say "Thank you - I shall enjoy this" without making qualifications and arguments, but in this Age of Abbott so many of our arguments are passive-aggressive and so much of our life is defensive that it's time to rethink. Obviously quite a few people have rethought. I was so impressed with those who had their breakfast in bed and then got online and made me feel less bad about my life. I was so not impressed with those who had their breakfast in bed and then reached out and intimated I wasn't worthy.**

I get the same thing at Christmas. It's whether one enjoys Christmas, or whether one writes about Christmas as a time when one acquires much loot and can skite about the presents as if they're more important than the love. If a picture of presents presented as 'loot' sums up a soul, then that person is less rich than me (and I'm quite poor, financially).

I think that's the bottom line. If festivals are about jockeying for position, then we're all losers. Same with crits. The core is what counts. What is the story actually about? What do we want it to be about? What can we do to make sure we're creating the story we intend to create?




*The Hugo mess is partly due to some of the underlying reasons for this kind of reaction, too, and the prevalence of it in some circles, but that's a long analysis and I don't want to undertake it here

**Mothers' Day is standing in for many occasions in this paragraph, just as Christmas is in the next. I like belaboring the obvious.

gillpolack @ 2015-05-11T16:51:00

It looks as if my internet has been fixed, somewhat earlier than expected. Thanks to the good tech person at iiNet (who sorted the workaround) I'm not as behind as I feared. Still behind, but I can catch up this week. This is a good outcome.

Decisions formed by the grumpiness that is a rather bad night

1. I used to think that the ratbaggery of everyday life would solve the issues that special petals cause for those around them. I've recently re-encountered three quite special petals and all everyday life and its vicissitudes means to them is that they need rather more special treatment. My decision #1 is if they want the world to revolve around them and if they are so very fragile that they hurt when even a fair wind blows gently, I don't need to be in their vicinity. If they're lucky and get me as teacher, they'll be given the same assistance as everyone else. I won't be unkind, I just won't change others' lives to meet their particular needs unless those particular needs actually require it. If the person in question is famous, that's nice to know, but they'll still only get the same consideration I give other people.

2. I will eat more chocolate this week. I've talked about it a lot, but failed at the actual eating.

3. I will rejoice in things done. For instance, all my stray notes for my current monograph have been assigned a chapter. I can finish the thing in two months, if I continue being efficient. This is something worth celebrating.

4. I will stop punishing myself for problems. My printer is misbehaving because it doesn't like my temporary internet work-through. Sometimes I can print and sometimes I can't and I have a ton of admin to finish by tomorrow afternoon. The sheer time spent cajoling and persuading the printer into doing stuff means I'm 8,000 words behind on my fiction and I have still to print four documents (all of which are destined for the Tax Office, so they must be done). I will finish it all (including the 8000 words) by 4.45 pm tomorrow, and I'll still have lunch with my friend because I'll spend the time gently pursuing the goals rather than telling myself how annoying life is. (This is why I'm so intolerant of special petals this week: I'm trying not to turn into one.)

5. I've had a bad week, healthwise. So what? I've had them before and I'll have them again. Life is still good.

6. I will wear my funky felt slippers and my down dressing gown if things get too bad. I will tell everyone that I'm wearing them at work, in the middle of the day, and I will feel smug. I won't wear them to university or to my Wednesday class, for decorum is occasionally required in public places.

7. I will improve my students' lives by bringing extra-cool objects for exercises and activities this week, and all activities and exercises will enhance the learning goals and they will be so very focussed on the joy of handling late medieval potsherds (tomorrow's class) that they won't even notice that my walking is creaky and that my eyes are ringed. Theatre, in this case, will improve my teaching and my mood, both. Although I don't know what my Tuesday class will make of the stretchy alien that somehow crept into the teaching pack. There is a reason for it, but it'll be interesting to see how long they take to reach that reason.

8. I will leave certain things until next week, when I will have full internet access and printing again, for they're just too difficult this and they don't have firm deadlines.

9. I will eat more chocolate. I know I've already had that decision, but it's an important one and can be made twice, especially as that chocolate is still in the cupboard. I have a big box of chocolate that Amenah and Simon gave me for my birthday, and I believe that it will die a noble death. Soon.

10. When the story is done and one chapter of the monograph, I am allowed to take refuge in the seventeenth century. I am not permitted to go there until goals are reached. If I want, I may don sackcloth and ashes over this decision, but only if I'm willing to clear up the mess.

Where I start profound and end profane

I'm reading again, since I have new writing to do rather than proofreading and etc. What this week's reading has reminded me is that far too many writers don't look at gendering as a part of their entering into story space.

My scholarly stuff right now partly concerns what story space is for writers (as opposed to academics) which explains a lot about me, right now. I've sorted out the problem with my Gaiman paper and story space and world building and everything. The results, however, are just more and more depressing. We carry our deep assumptions about rank and importance into story space and we write from those deep assumptions. They're not what we say in public - they're how we view the world. Unless we actively question what we do as writers, this is inevitable.

As writers, unless we do this active questioning, we don't say "Which characters need to be gendered in a particular way" and then make active decisions for all the others, to make them more interesting or demonstrate a more complex world or simply to make sure that 90% of the cast isn't male, we give all the characters default male heterosexual gendering and only give other-than-this where the story absolute demands it. The Three-Body Problem is my today's reading and is a brilliant novel, but it fails on this ground. I'll be relieved to be finished it, because it's so very limited in its humanity because it takes a simple approach to gendering. American Gods also fails on this ground, which is what got me started on this track, a few years ago. What it led me to was thinking about the mechanisms. Obviously it's not enough to say "This is a stupid thing to do, for so many reasons." One has to be able to say "This is the mechanism by which you do it. Here are some other mechanisms you may wish to consider using in your writing."

Gendering is a part of building a world for a novel. If we don't build women in and other genders and different sexualities then they don't exist for the reader. It's no use telling me at conventions (as many writers do) "I live in a complex world: I know these things" - if you have a single default position for most of humanity in your novels and you don't have a clear reason for such a thing, you're not living in a complex world. You're not living in this world, in fact. You're living in a simpler more straightforward world of gender dominance and heteronormativity. I sympathise with you, if this is you (and, to be honest, there are at least a dozen writers who read this blog to whom this generalisation does not apply ) for I won't read your work very often at all. I can't see me in it, and I also can't see a lot of my friends. We don't have to be major characters, but the novel has to be set in a world in which we have the potential to exist.

For ages I've been doing a "What would aliens think?" count of TV programs and films. Currently, aliens would think that we have a dominant and important and highly intelligent and active male gender that comprises between 3/4 and 4/5 of our population.

All this is (hopefully) coming together over the next two months. Still, it makes me fume when I read it in novels by otherwise entirely amazing writers. Invisibility sucks.



PS I'm nearly finished the Cixin Liu and it's a fabulous book. it has more women than many, but it's still a mainly male population and the women are mostly miserable or murdered.

gillpolack @ 2015-05-09T13:25:00

Posting will be irregular until the internetz are normal. I have reliable nettage, but not a lot of it. There is a fault in the line and it can't be fixed until next week. If I'm lucky, it will be early next week and if I'm unlucky, it will be later than that. Until then I'm using expensive telephony internet and it doesn't let me use my printer while I'm on the net. I can do all the things I *must* do and then hang off on the less urgent until later. I've already filled out so many paper forms that were lurking...

Anyhow, if you don't hear from me much over the next few days (either here or on your blog or elsewhere) this is why.