April 27th, 2012

The real truth, and other kinds

This is a reworked distillation of the talk I gave on Tuesday at the Renison Writers’ Workshop. I thought I might as well set it down here rather than let it float off into the either.

I don’t do much in the way of autobiographical writing, but I don’t know that I entirely believe such a thing exists anyway. Even if you you wanted to lay out an event on the page exactly as it happened in real life, if you were at all creative or elegant in the presentation of that event it would elide certain truths, boring or irrelevant though they might be. Once you’ve edited out the lady sitting beside you in the emergency room who kept haranging you about Obama for no real reason, the twenty minutes you spent looking for your OHIP card under the seats in your car, and most of the hours you spent unconcious when you have no idea what was happening, the story looks radically different than how it was actually lived. Change everyone’s names for privacy, collapse three different nurses into a single character because they all said basically the same thing and who has time to develop so many characters–you have a convincing case that it’s not true at all, merely *based* on certain personal experiences you may have had.

Seriously, that’s too stupid a conversation to have, even with myself–though believe me, I’ve done it before. Narrative and 100% truth don’t really go together, but neither does (semi) realist fiction and 100% falsity. I think most writers use observation in their writing–the way the sunset looks out the window on the 9th floor, the way their cat tries to hop onto the counter but doesn’t make it, the way someone gets a migraine when she’s really mad. The world permeates fiction, fiction organizes the world, and the older I get the less alarmed I am about discerning the differences.

I sort of feel the same way about narrative non-fiction–there, the balance is probably tipped toward the truth, but you have the same sort of of constraints on you–that of creating a good story. And if you have to fudge a few details to give events the emotional impact they need to on someone who has never met the characters and never will (whether it’s because they don’t know them, or because the characters don’t exist)–that’s the art of writing well, isn’t it?

**

This actually came out pretty from the Tuesday talk, not sure why–maybe I should’ve actually referred to my notes once in a while. Anyway, I did write something of the pure-unvarnished-truth variety–a list of my most treasured possessions (well, some of them–I’m very materialistic). I actually don’t do much of this sort of personal writing very often–it’s not my scene–but Allyson Latta asked me, and she is both a life-writing expert and a delightful person of the networld, so how could I say no? Also, writing this helped me to notice that pure descriptive writing, without narrative, without plot or character, dialogue or “theme,” is far more likely to be empiracally truthful than it’s paragraphed kin. See for yourself–My Seven Treasure–I bet you can find all these things in my house, looking much as you’d imagine them to!

April 22nd, 2012

Me, around

So it’s getting to be a post a week, these days–which is sad, but at least I’m busy with cool stuff. Well, some cool stuff–I also spent a good part of last week and the week before having a mental breakdown over my non-functional printer. This goes back over a year, when I accidentally mailed the power cord to my perfectly functional printer to Bell along with my modem when I stopped using it. Then my beloved bought me a new printer, which was not compatible with my operating system. Then I traded him for his printer, which was compatible, but promptly broke. Then the manufacturer offered to mail me a replacement printer as part of the warrenttee. That one was also broken. So was the replacement replacement printer. Here is pretty much where the breakdown happened. The third printer to arrive in the mail works, at least a little bit. My standards are pretty low at this point, I my advice is not to buy Kodak printers.

But I digress!! There’s way better stuff to talk about…like

–a nice review of The Big Dream in The Uptown. If you click on the link, you will see a headline of Don DiLillo’s *The Angel Esmerelda*, but if you scroll down the second half is the TBD review (which also draws on an interview I did out in Winnipeg last fall). Besides, DiLillo’s book really deserves 100% of the headline, anyway–if you haven’t read it, very recommended, by both the reviewer and me!

–Shawn Syms published an interesting article in *The Toronto Review* on fiction and social media, which referenced work by Zoe Whittal, Jessica Westhead and yours truly, among others. I’m in such good company these days.

–I’ll be taking a trip to Waterloo on Tuesday to speak to some high-school students about writing from real life (yeah, as if I know how!) and getting (I hope) to hear about what they are up to.

So yeah, RR 3, Printer 1. Well, that’s how I choose to score it.

April 15th, 2012

Prairie Fire Review…and Reviews in General

Tara at Biblioasis passed on a lovely review of *The Big Dream* from the current issue of Prairie Fire. It’s not online, but if you’re curious what TBD is like, it might be worth grabbing the print copy because I think Bob Armstrong does a really excellent job examining the book review. Yes, he also seems to like it a great deal–which obviously makes me happy–but his praise still makes it clear what kind of book it is, so people who don’t like that sort can steer clear. I really like to see a couple sentences like the following in a book review. “It’s located in an industrial park in Mississauga near pearson Airport…her stories focus on the people who work in the call centre, deal with tech support, oversee hiring and firing, or spend all day, on a good day, tweaking a new logo.” They shouldn’t be the whole thing, but some of every book/movie/tv/restaurant/hairstyle review should be just descriptive prose, no judgment implied. You can see how those exact words could’ve come from a very negative review, too. And you can also see how a careful Prairie Fire reader could read Armstrong’s whole review, including the wonderful line, “For readers who want fiction that engages with the world we live in, Rosenblum’s work matters” and still not want to read the book. Armstrong’s praise is wonderful, but I can still imagine reader who want that engagement in another way, and knowing to give my book a pass when they spot it on the shelf.

I think a good review does that–doesn’t *only* evaluate a book but also describes it accurately enough that a reader can make his/her own assessment. Which is why I am so happy about Armstrong’s review when others, which may have been equally positive–have made me a bit uncomfortable. This happened more with *Once* than *TBD*, so I’m not sure if it’s me or the reviewers who did better this time, but I felt…alarmed…by some of the praise I received for *Once*. I would never criticize someone’s reading of my work–once it’s in your brain, it is yours to interpret. But some interpretations, without adequate context or quotation, can lead readers to believe a book is something it isn’t. And that can give a writer heart-attacks–what if people who only like *this* sort of book buy it, and then hate it, when really the book was never intended to be *this* sort.”

The quick response to this is that I need to calm the heck down, and that would be a good one. But I am also trying to learn how to be a book reviewer my own self, looking very closely at the good ones and the bad ones, and trying to see why they are what they are. And I think one key is context–liberal quotation balanced with specific assessment. No matter what anyone says, a list of quotations does not make a review. But neither does an assessment entirely in the reviewer’s voice. Reviews need to be a balance of both evaluative and descriptive to work, I think.

What the exact balance is remains a mystery for me–I guess that’s the art of it.

April 7th, 2012

Rose-coloured and Mark review some Oatcakes

Remember when Mark and I used to do occasional audio reviews of sweets, which I would then transcribe for your benefit? Well, that was a really long hiatus but I got some new batteries for the digicorder and some oatcakes from TWO provinces, so we are back at it–enjoy!

RR: The samples have been consumed, and now…the verdict: New Brunswick oatcake vs Nova Scotia oatcake…Mark Sampson?

MS: Well, as far as I’m concerned, this was a brutal first-round knockout for the Nova Scotia oatcake. I mean, no offense to the good people of New Brunswick, but you don’t put a smear of date inside what looks to be almost an oatmeal…cake*. It’s not an oatcake, it doesn’t have that crispyness, that baked sensation, that taste that just kinda melts in your mouth. No, the Nova Scotia oatcake owned the day.

RR: They [NS oatcakes] were quite delicious. And–and–we have three more! What is an appropriate accompniment for a Nova Scotia oatcake.

MS: I think the only thing that’s acceptable is to have half of it dipped in chocolate. To give you that option of having it without or with something on the side sort of. I would say that if you’re going to do something different with an oatcake, dip it in chocolate, leave the dates at home. But for purists, the straightup Nova Scotia oatcake is the way to go. These are delicious, I think, these are some of the finest oatcakes I’ve had.

RR: They are from the Just Us bakery in Wolfville….I’m sorry I ate the chocolate one before I got here.

MS: That’s quite all right–I’m very happy with what you did bring home.

RR: And the New Brunswick oatcake is from The Bridge Street Cafe in Sackville.

MS: Well, I’m sure they do good work. I’m sure that they are a wonderful bakery with all kinds of delicious things to eat. This oatcake is not bad, but when you’re comparing it to a Nova Scotia oatcake, which could’ve just come right across the border. I mean they are just so close, Sackville is right there next to Nova Scotia…but no, no comparison at all.

RR: But will we eat these plain, will we eat them with tea, will we put jam on them? What will we do?

MS: I’d like to have one of these with a coffee. I think these would go over very well in the morning with a cup of coffee.

RR: Breakfast oatcake.

MS: Yes, indeed.

RR: Would you like to melt the bag of chocolate chips and pour it over one of the oatcakes?

MS: Why, I think that’s a brilliant idea.

RR: Tune in next time for “Altering Your Oatcake”**.

*Perhaps the tactical error was purchasing the date oatcake at all–they had plain ones, but I was tempted by novelty. My bad.

**We completely failed to do this and just ate the rest of them unaltered.

April 5th, 2012

Stress-reduction Techniques

This is a random lost post–apparently I wrote it over a year ago, when I was moving, and never put it up. I was just rummaging through my drafts folder and found it. I guess the stress at the time just overwhelmed me. So the contextual references won’t make too much sense now, but I think the post itself is still good. Blast from the not-too-distant past!!
**

My stressball symptoms from the move (convinced that everything is filthy yet am too tired to clean, walking into walls, inability to carry on a conversation not somehow related to moving) abated somewhat last night. This was due to taking a 90 minute train-ride in order to have my parents feed me, listen to my problems, and let me play with their kitten. I haven’t been in my filthy, box-strewn apartment in close to 24-hours now, and the improvement is obvious. The only cloud on the horizon is that I will eventually have to go back there, and figure out how to dismantle the stereo. But first–Swiss Chalet!

For times when it is not convenient to return the the parental home, here are a few other stress-reduction techniques I have picked up over the years. I am really not the best person to be getting this advice from–I deal with stress about as well as ice sculptures deal with firebombing. This post is really as much a reminder for me as for anyone else.

–go outside and walk. The hamster wheel of the brain can be jarred out of its cycle by a new environment, brisk movement, and a different temperature. This is especially true in my current scenario, when it is the indoors that is *causing* my troubles, but the technique also works with writing or work-related stress–leaving the computer screen is highly beneficial in those cases, even if the absense is only brief. In those cases, I would recommend strongly leaving all communication devices behind–part of the benefit of walking is walking *away* from your problems–less helpful if you put them in your pocket.

–do a good deed. The altruism thing aside, I find it’s a good boost to my self-esteem when I do something nice for someone else. If someone says thank you for something and really means it, I feel less like a *total* waste of oxygen. Even holding the door open for someone or handing someone something they’ve dropped can work. For more major stress, giving blood really helps if you have time and are able to. You get the thrill of maybe saving someone’s life, plus you’re lightheaded and a little drunk-feeling–and eating a free cookie!

–do something you know you probably won’t fail at. I actually got this tip out of a Sassy magazine in the early 90s, but it still works. Doing something you have a high sucess rate at–cooking a meal you’ve made before, playing a sport or game you know well, writing a blog post–makes you feel better about your powers, and more able to deal with whatever you actually need to do.

–sleep. I’m actually not sure this is good advice, but when I’m really overwhelmed, I like to lose consciousness for a while.

April 2nd, 2012

Participant

I’ve been doing a few things lately even *in addition* to swanning around the Maritime provinces and basking in the springtime sun here in Ontario. Today, for example, I ran *many* errands in the aforementioned springtime sun, which is somehow much better than the fraudulent summer sun of a few weeks ago. Today was one of those rare days for a 9-to-5-er, when I had time to prioritize those little errands like the library, the post office, the dry-cleaner–instead of cramming them on the tail-end of some more glamourous errand, they got to be centre stage. And I strolled between them listening to Belle and Sebastian (come on! anyone who doesn’t think Belle and Sebastian is the perfect soundtrack to a spring stroll is just a hipster too far). Lovely.

Ok, but also–some writing stuff. I contributed a line to Pass the Ghost Story, which is fun, creepy, and still in progress; I was interviewed by Grace O’Connell about Writers and Day Jobs, and I made the very long but very cool long-list for the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. I’ve read enough of the books on the list to know what an honour this is, so I’m basking…just a bit!

And it’s only Monday!

April 1st, 2012

Maritime University Tour with Amy Jones

…was so fun! As the last major block of touring I’ll do for *The Big Dream* (there are still some one-offs to come this spring/summer [and maybe fall]), it was so delightful to have lovely venues, warm hosts, engaged audiences, and a stellar reading companion (basically constant companion). Here are some of the highlights:

The Halifax waterfront--a bit chilly, still lovely.

Amy at the Waterfront--also looking a bit chilly, but entirely lovely.

Post-St. Mary's reading, at the Bistro, with Alexander MacLeod, Amy, Zach Wells, me, and Brian Bartlett

This is one of Amy's mom's THREE cats, Ben. It is a very happy household.

Professor Wanda Campbell starting off the readings at Acadia University.

Amy, batting cleanup at Acadia.

The whole gang from the University of New Brunswick creative-writing team had dinner with us. So friendly!

Me, doing air-quotes, at the UNB reading.