time sucks?

~ carin ~ Leave a comment

Lots of complaints these days among writers about the major ‘time sucks’ that technology presents—all that tweeting and surfing and site maintenance in the name of self promotion, when what’s most important—attention to craft—is being left by the wayside.

It all sounds like a new name for an old problem.  Used to be called looking out a window.

True, there are more windows now but I’m guessing those who find discipline hard because of modern ‘time sucks’ would have also been suckers for a nice view. Or a brick wall.

That said, what’s wrong with a little distraction? A walk, a sandwich, writing a post, sending an email, spinning a hula hoop—it’s all a happy and necessary change for the brain. Discipline, I think, is not only about work, but the balance of work and other stuff. The trick is keeping it balanced. And choosing the other stuff well.

Essentially, what it comes down to is that the only thing about time that sucks is the part that’s wasted.

this is not a review: at a loss for words, by diane schoemperlen

~ carin ~ Leave a comment

I happily discovered Diane Schoemperlen’s At a Loss for Words after entering “Writers’ Block” in the subject line of a library search. It is indeed about a blocked writer, but expression through words is not what’s blocked.

Billed (unfortunately) as a post-romantic comedy: narrator meets a former lover after thirty years and they begin a relationship, much of which takes place via email because they live in separate cities.

It’s that simple. And that not simple.

Schoemperlen’s use of lists, daily horoscopes, pointers from self-help guides, actually become part of the narrative, moving the story along at the same time they move (or not) the narrator’s life along, but it’s not really the narrator’s story; it’s the reader’s story. Once we begin to realize the truth of what’s being experienced and the uninhibited hopefulness by which that truth is being conveyed we, the reader, can no longer just observe—we begin to recognize something about it as our own.  And the recognition makes us squirm.

I doubt that it would matter whether the reader is a man or woman, how young or old, straight or not, or what background or part of the world they came from because what Schoemperlen has done is more than tell a story about relationships—she’s deconstructed the obsession of neediness.

The book has less to do with relationships with others, than the way we see ourselves—romance is merely the vehicle Schoemperlen has chosen to convey a much broader truth.

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—Purchase At a Loss for Words online at Blue Heron Books.

darlings and ground cover

~ carin ~ Leave a comment

Here’s what I’ve learned this summer: whether you’re gardening or writing, you’re toning the same muscles. Consider the process:

You finally begin work on the new thing in the garden, or on new a scene, and a domino effect begins—those flowers can’t be planted as you thought because the bed is all grassy and overgrown with some mystery ground cover that won’t easily be removed and needs major digging out.

So you dig it out. Then you realize that it’s not all bad, that some of it can be saved. Some of it will make good compost or you can spread it under the spruce trees. The rest really is utter crap and must be bagged and put on the curb on yard waste day.

Of course you don’t have any bags, and the place under the trees needs raking. And even after you get back from the store and you’re done raking, you notice these big gaps all over the place where you dug stuff out. Some of those gaps are really nice, like a zen thing, others need filling with fresh soil.

It’s only after what feels like several lifetimes that you can do this sweet innocent thing of planting those flowers (or adding that scene).

And then you stand back and say, jeezus they look great. And you look at the flowers three hundred times and each time it feels so good. It was a lot of work, but they look great.

Unfortunately the area right beside them suddenly looks like crap.

the power of procrastination

~ carin ~ 1 Comment

 

Today I worked out a few scenes while loosening wild pursulane between the tomatoes which, by the way, gives a nice peppery flavour to salad. Also good with eggs. There’s something about working with dirt that invites my brain to think about writing. Possibly guilt. As in, I should be writing, why am I sowing a bed of arugula… but at exactly that moment the solution to some problem I’m having with chapter whatever very often walks into my somewhat guilty and sun-addled brain and this solution is so perfect that I have to write it down immediately on the back of a seed packet.

This kind of thing keeps me slightly addicted to gardening.

Also it’s a form of procrastination, which I’ve come to learn can actually be harnessed to serve as a tool of productivity. It’s just that you end up being productive in different areas and at different times than you think you should be. For instance, when I should  be gardening, when things are wilting and turning yellow, and the horseradish needs to be seriously attacked with a machete, I often find I’m very inspired to stay inside and write a few hundred words.

[alternate title for this post: Exhibit ‘A’…]