Nicola Griffith's Blog, page 113

Keep the channel open

For you today this exerpt from a letter written by Martha Graham to Agnes DeMille:

“ There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost, the world will have it.

It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is; nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it your clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. ”

Keep the channel open to your art. Whatever it takes. Go live in the flow. That's the whole point.

Recently arrived

I'm looking forward to this one. From the recent Wall Street Journal review:

Esther Murphy, Mercedes de Acosta and Madge Garland were singular women who came of age between the wars and who have fallen through the cracks of history. They moved in overlapping social circles in New York, London and Paris, powerfully influencing those circles yet never building bodies of work that would endure after they died.

The fact that these women, all fundamentally lesbian, knew one another and sometimes romanced one another places them in a milieu of personal and sexual freedom that, while mostly under-the-radar, was progressive for its time. In provocative and beautifully paced prose, Ms. Cohen writes that "juxtaposing [these] lives was a way to illuminate work that has not been recognized as such: in Murphy's case, prolific conversation; in de Acosta's, the fervent, often shameful acts and feelings associated with being a fan and collector; in Garland's, a career in the ephemeral, often trivialized world of fashion."

Anyone read it?

Working on something

Today I'm going to focus on writing a story. Which will probably end up as a novelette or even a novella. Because that's just how this shit works. I rarely have neat, 6,000-word ideas. I'm more a 12,000-words person. Or 20,000. Occasionally 2,000. But, trust me, this isn't a 2,000-word idea.

So today, girls and boys, you're on your own. Go watch the Olympics. Even better, go for a walk, then sit in the sun and read a book. Or pick one of the other dozen daily delights I've recommended. A little of what you fancy is good for you--a lot is even better...

Nuns, medals, Mars

Nuns:

The Leadership Conference of Women Religious is meeting today in Washington D.C. to formulate their response to the Vatican's decision to appointment an Archbishop to oversee and vet their activities and statements. (For background on this, see previous posts here and here.) LCWR will probably release a statement on Friday, and I'm intensely curious about it. This could be a make-or-break moment for the Catholic Church in the US.

For a taste of how the nuns might respond, read this paragraph from a recent interview with Sister Pat Farrell, President of LCWR, with Terry Gross on NPR. Gross asks Farrell how she feels about the things the Congregation for the Doctrine on the Faith (the lovely people who brought us the Inquisition, back in the day) have said about LCWR, and Farrell says:

Deeply saddened and angered, and I think that's just offensive. And I think it reflects a serious misunderstanding and misinterpretation of who we are. And I think it reflects the impoverishment of the church that has not held the leadership and the voice of women in a place of equal prominence. I think that's what we're seeing reflected there. And to call that concern radical feminism I think just reflects the fear of women in the church and the fear of what could happen if women were really listened to and taken seriously.

Do read the whole transcript. I don't think LCWR are going to take this control of their organisation by bishops quietly. And I don't think they'll be alone. The Franciscan friars of the US have declared their support.

Medals:



I'm feeling happily patriotic when I contemplate the Olympic medal table (especially as two Yorkshire lads from my neck of the woods just increased the haul). At some other time I'll go into what that means, and why, but today I just want to watch lovely bodies doing extreme things while British people shout their throats raw. Great, uncomplicated stuff.

Mars:

And finally, Curiosity has landed on Mars. It cost several billion dollars. It used a daring landing technique. It's a one-ton mobile lab on another planet. I feel as though I should be more excited about this but while I'm perfectly happy that it's landed successfully, I just can't beat myself into a froth about it. After all, it's the seventh probe sent to Mars. I do hope it finds something nifty, but I'd be more breathless if it was Leigh Brackett's Mars they were landing on.

Why I Really Like This Book: a great podcast

From: Kate Macdonald

I'm starting a new miniseries of podcasts on my weekly 10-minute podcast site, Why I Really Like This Book, on feminist science fiction, and Ammonite is the culminating entry. I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a sequel, or had published short fiction extending the Ammonite world? I see that your new book is called Hild, which is an Ammonite name: is that connected?

No, I have no plans for a sequel to Ammonite . And no, currently there are no short stories out there. But I do have ideas for stories every now and again and suspect that one day I'll write one of them. (I talked very recently to a newish e-only publisher who is very keen on the idea, so this could happen.)

Meanwhile, there are two audio snippets from the book available on my website. Enjoy.

I listened to your podcast about Mary Renault. I love her work, particularly Fire From Heaven. I think she's a magnificent storyteller--and, as you point out, her work, the people, the place, is easy to fall into. I've read The Praise Singer--I think I've read all her fiction--but I don't remember it very well. You've made me want to reread it, especially the oral-to-written Homer episode, so thanks for that. Thanks, too, for reintroducing me to the concept of dividing historical fiction into the categories of 'felt past' and 'recovered past'. (I forget where I first read about it: a review by Tom Shippey? Sounds like the kind of thing he'd say.*) I'll be spending some time pondering which camp Hild belongs to. I'm temped to bellow, "Both!" but perhaps that's wishful thinking. I don't have a firm enough grasp of how one differentiates.

Renault's fiction, along with the Aubrey/Maturin novels of Patrick O'Brian and Mary Stewart's Merlin series, was important to my development as a writer. I doubt Hild would exist without it.

Hild is the closest I've come to sweeping story and epic world-building since I wrote Ammonite. Both novels have female protagonists; language, too, is integral to both. But one is set in a future that will never be while the other is set in a past that actually happened. That is, the central character once existed: Hild of Whitby. It's Whitby, of course, that provides the connection: the place where I first encountered ammonite fossils (which in turn triggered my still-evolving fascination with phi. See Always for more on that.) Whitby, too, was where I fell in love with history. So, yes, the two novels are deeply connected but not, perhaps, in the way you might think.

Is Hild an Ammonite name?? I don't remember that. (There again, I wrote the book more than 20 years ago.) Hmm, I've just spent half an hour trying to check: looking for a glossary and list of characters I compiled long ago for the second edition of the novel--which, sadly, was never used, and somehow got lost in the moves from one hard drive to another over the years. A quick search through the Word document is essentially useless, because I don't know how to persuade it to look for Hild as opposed to child or children.**

If any readers know how to make Word do that kind of search, please, share! Meanwhile, I urge you all to go to iTunes and subscribe to the Why I Really Like This Book podcast, or to check out the Facebook page. It's good, chewy stuff.

-----
*Turns out to be the formulation of Harold Orel in The Historical Novel from Scott to Sabatini (Macmillan 1995), which sounds like a pretty nifty book.
** It also turns out that it wasn't Hild Kate was thinking of but Hilt, Thenike's sister. That's a relief. I was vaguely creeped out at the thought of not remembering one of my own characters. I imagine it'll happen one day (especially with Hild's cast of thousands) but, hey, today is not that day...

Summer evening

Thanks to two neighbours--one witting, the other not so much--yesterday we had lavender creme brulée for dessert. And thanks to some miraculous foresight on our part, we had Pouilly Fuissé to go with it. Delicious. And perfect for a hot summer afternoon melting into evening.

I hope you're all staying cool.

Absinthe ice lolly: a slip 'n' slide for the hot and bothered mind

From Wikimedia Commons. "Green ice pop" by dumbfoundling, a flickr userFor those of you tired of being too hot, here's something that will help: an absinthe ice lolly. (Or 'pop' as people here seem to say. Why? I've no idea.) Basically, you make a punch from absinthe, fresh lime, simple syrup, and water. If you make it in a punchbowl with ice and slice some cucumber into it, then, cool, there's your punch. Though I loathe cucumber so would use melon or something similar instead. (I'm open to suggestions.)

Alcohol has a lower freezing point than water, so many punches don't translate well to popsicles and lollies. This one does. But you'll need the exact proportions. So go get the recipe (from Anne-Louise Marquis) from Gizmodo. And have a blast.

Drugworld

I've been zoning out and watching more Olympics. (Hey, my post-operative instructions say I'm 'required to rest.' What's your excuse?) And I'm enjoying more and more the physical power of the women athletes. Even the gymnasts are now standing with their legs apart, owning their space. None of that demure, folded-in body language we've been seeing for decades. Not before time.

And the football players... Well, I wish some of them would lose the froofy hair stuff--particularly the North Koreans--but, hey, if it makes them feel good, why not? (The Koreans are very young--about half the team are teenagers.) Ditto the sparkly cosmetics favoured by the Russian gymnasts.

I did enjoy the body decorations of a Team GB swimmer: she had the Olympic rings tattooed on her ribs. My names is Nicola Griffith and I approve of that message.

I admit, though, despite the improved body-language, I'm getting just a wee bit sick of the Olympics. It's like reading non-fiction: no matter how good it is, eventually I want to good sword-swangin' adventure fiction.

So I sat down to watch the entire Season 2 of Game of Thrones. (I have all eps of both seasons securely stashed on TiVo. I've watched the first season eps at least twice each.) But to my dismay, I couldn't manage even half an episode: it bored me. This, of course, could be due to all the meds I'm taking: tiny minds are easily bored. But I recall that even the first time around I found the first couple of S2 eps less than satisfactory--although the season hit its stride as it progressed. There again, after seeing so many real-life powerful women, the sexualised object of GoT might, this time, altered state of consciousness or not, prove unbearable.

So now I don't know what to watch. Perhaps Rome (but, eh, there's that horrible ep where Atia is abused). Perhaps TiVo can find me something suitably graspable-for-tiny-minds, non-sexist, and epical. Perhaps my interest in the Olympics will pick up when the track and field starts. Perhaps I'll recover enough brain power to, gasp, read.

ETA: I tried to watch Tron: EcstasyLegacy instead. I'd never seen it before. I sat, stunned, feeling the same way I had in 1980 when I took three mystery pills at a friend's house--which turned out to be MDMA--and got lost trying to walk the four blocks home while sodium lights  and stars streaked around me and the noise of passing cars turned into the best music I'd ever heard. Pretty wild. But I could only cope with about forty minutes of the film.

Marriage equality and the election

In The Advocate , Barney Frank says that marriage equality will be part of the Democratic Party platform in November:

Congressman Barney Frank of Massachusetts said in a telephone interview Monday that the Democratic Party will affirm its commitment to marriage equality in the platform currently being drafted and that the move has his "full support."

"Yes, it will be in the platform," said Frank. "I am in favor of it being included and it will be included."

I'm sorry that man is retiring.

Here in Washington State, things continue to look good for Referendum 74. But if you live here, if you know people who live here, please don't get complacent. Remind everyone--now and in November--to vote to approve R-74. Approving R-74 means approving marriage equality.

More on this--so much more--when my post-op drug fog evaporates.

Meat management

I was sitting in front of the TV yesterday watching women's swim finals in London (okay, zoning out--hey, the kind of drugs you need for oral surgery will do that to you) when I heard the commentator mention 'meat management'. I was surprised enough to drop my bag of frozen peas (great for reducing swelling), open my eyes, and lean forward.

Wow, I thought. The world certainly has changed when a commentator on NBC can be talking about lithe, lissome lasses while blithely discussing meat management and no one laughs nervously.

I tried to reconstruct the commentary. My drug-addled brain decided they'd been discussing the vagaries of bringing athletes to peak fitness. I decided I liked this acceptance of the body, with no shilly-shallying about women being feminine beings first and great athletes second. I liked it a lot. I drifted off into a reverie of a world in which women and men were truly and equally seen as physical machines while at the same time having emotions that influenced their performance...

And then, of course, it struck me: the commentators were talking about meet management. Meet management (I'm assuming) from two perspectives: the venue people organising the heats, the seeding, the schedule; and the participants, managing their energy and training to bring themselves to a peak at the important moment--while ensuring they don't lose the heats that will get them to that moment.

So, hey, gum surgery's been good for one thing: an interesting vision of the world. Watching the swimming was cool, too. Neither of which would have happened without the vile gum surgery and the lovely drugs that go with it. Moral of the story: never let anyone tell you there are no silver linings. (Though gold, of course, is better...)