November 15th, 2008

Unblockable

Something I’ve said in the past that, taken out of context, could make me seem obnoxious, is that I never get writers’ block. I get too tired to write, or too busy, or too lazy, but if I am actually able to get myself into the chair to write, I can write. The concept of the intimidating blank page/screen is foreign to me.

Obnoxious, right? Well, obviously, there’s more.

Anyone who wants their words in the wider world, ie., wants other people to bother reading them, had better be a perfectionist. To publish, or try to publish, stories that I feel to be sorta “meh” is a nightmare-ish construction to me–oh, the shame of letting strangers read a badly turned line.

I, however, am a perfectionist over the long term. As I type away, I am not exactly thrilled, but certainly ok with letting a bad line, an awkward scene, a hackneyed metaphor stand in a rough draft. Sometimes I just can’t think of anything better right then and I’d rather get the whole thing laid out where I can see it before I start fiddling. It’s ok with me if the fiddling and fixing comes much later. No one’s going to sneak into my hard-drive in the night and read at it and laugh at my lameness. I’ll get it on the 2nd draft, or the 3rd. There’s always another chance; I write a lot of drafts.

People who get writers’ block, I am given to understand, do *not* write a lot of drafts (since it’s not a condition I suffer from, I don’t know exactly–feel free to correct me!) They are willing to wait, cursor blinking, until they have it nailed–it takes longer for them to get it down on the page, but they get it right the first time. A novel concept for one like me, who has so far cut close to 1500 words out of a first draft and isn’t even close to done. I was pretty sure those 1500 words weren’t aces when I wrote them, but they were a bridge from where I was to where I wanted to go–I needed them at the time, although not any longer. That time spent writing what would be later deleted is my version of staring at the blinking cursor–writing garbage, or redundancy, or perfectly adequate narration for another story, is my version of writers’ block

I figured this out with a friend who found the process of writing deadly slow, but her stories required almost no editing–by the time she got there, she was there, the story whole and polished. She was envious of my ability to just keep slugging, no matter my mood or doubts about the story or confusion about whether it even *was* a story. I was envious of her ability to say what she wanted to say straight out, with no excess verbiage or pointless digressions.

We realized that, though our processes were so radically different, from first word to final draft took us both about the same amount of time. Which is encouraging/comforting/non-obnoxious. And makes me feel a little better about the fact that another 1500 words could and probably shall be cut from this story.

I think the message here, if there’s a message, is: any way you go, as long it eventually leads forward, is fine.

I’d certainly be curious to hear what anyone else has to say about blocks, drafts, and the way forward.

It stoned me to my soul
RR

November 14th, 2008

Sleep camel

I learned that term from the Idler’s Glossary, in a discussion about those who will *not* idle, who make a contest of activity and reserve leisure for unconsciousness. A sleep camel is one who stays up to all hours during the week, usually in order to work extremely hard, and then crashes out all weekend.

I am very fond of sleeping, and try to do as much as possible, and yet I find myself more and more verging on the camel-type, popping out of bed bright-eyed on Mondays, only to be red-eyed and whiny come Friday. It’s not *exactly* that I’m a hard worker though; more that I am an average worker who works on several different things, and also does a lot of random but entertaining non-work whenever the opportunity presents itself. For instance, this week I stayed up very late every night, doing the following:

Monday–Saw taping of So You Think You Can Dance, Canada? (go, Izaac!!) followed by work.
Tuesday–Read in support of Harold Hoefle‘s launch of the *The Mountain Clinic*, followed by hanging out at the bar, followed by work.
Wednesday–Fancy dinner with friends, followed by insufficient amount of work.
Thursday–Work.

What has happened to my life? It is full of frolic, obviously, but also marked sleep debt. I have to manage my time better. Or have less fun. Or something I’m too tired to think of right now. Whatever. Don’t call too late tonight is I think my point.

You overthink
RR

Toronto is so nice

I have ever been aware of this. The first time I apartment-hunted here, strangers on the streetcar practically collapsed trying to talk me out of living in what they thought were bad neighbourhoods (this story ends with me and my friends in a police stations with several cops trying not to snicker as they cross things off my list). It’s not *exactly* been smooth sailing ever since, but certainly enough random acts of umbrella-sharing, lost-item-finding, and smile-giving have followed my progress here that I hold the whole town in high esteem.

Nevertheless, it is particularly nice when friends come from afar and the city shows itself off to best effect. And not just the museums and galleries, the zoo (oh, the gorillas, oh the leopard babies!!) and the restaurants. TTC, York Region Transit, shop clerks and strangers in the street, dogs on the street–A+ Toronto. Of course, it does help that the friends who visited are pretty amazing, also. A+ Winnipeg, also.

Anyway, so I’ve been gallivanting all week, which is the reason why that blog-everyday-in-November challenge that I was sort of unofficially doing is now no more. Oh well, we’ll pick up where we left off.

The next writerly reading I’m doing is in Windsor, so perhaps I will find a new city to love. I’ve never been to Windsor, but I hear it is far away, so I’m not sure how many Rose-coloured readers can make it. If you can, or just are curious, it’s here:

Thursday, November 27th
Mark Anthony Jarman, Heather Birrell, Russell Smith, Rebecca Rosenblum at a Salon des Refuses event
Art Gallery of Windsor / 401 Riverside Dr. W.
7:00 pm

And since this entry is already pretty random, one more thing: Journey Prize Stories 20 is out now, and looks gorgeous. I haven’t read any of the stories yet except for the already-beloved “Some Light Down” by S. Kennedy Sobol, but if that’s the standard set here, this is a must-read.

It’s not what you say
RR

November 10th, 2008

The Week That Will Be

Rose-coloured is not a reliable source for goings-on-about-town of the literary variety, or any other; I largely post about events I’m actually attending/participating in, which is hardly a very wide gamut to run. I’m just not tapped in enough, and anyway there are plenty of lovely ways to find out what’s really going on.

But this week I’m sort of on-the-ballish about cool lit stuff, and sad I cannot attend more. So I’m passing the ball to you, Rose-coloured readers: maybe *you* can go, and tell me about it?

Tuesday November 11, 7 pm
The Rivoli (upstairs) 332 Queen West
The Launch of Harold Hoefle’s *The Mountain Clinic* with readings by Nathan Whitlock, Michael Bryson and Rebecca Rosenblum

Ok, so I’m in on that one, and it’s gonna be awesome. But if you aren’t in the mood for fiction on Tuesday, the other option is to check out:

Best Canadian Poetry Launch
Revival Bar, 738 College
That one’s also at 7, so there will be no double-headers, sadly.

Then on Wednesday, the next incarnation of the Pivot Reading Series, which I also cannot attend, though I will think of it longingly.
Press Club, 850 Dundas West
Readings start at 8:15 sharp, by Alison Pick, Jeff Latosik and Sara Heinonen

Whatever you attend this week, have very much fun–and if you come out to the Riv on Tuesday, I will be happy to see you there!

I’m a door in a hinge
RR

November 9th, 2008

Sundayness

Well, it’s mid-afternoon and I haven’t gotten permanently dressed yet (you know, you put on your sweats to go to the gym/post office/grocery store, but that doesn’t really count as clothing, plus you have to start all over again once you shower) but at least my book got a lovely review in the Toronto Star. That makes me feel a little bit better about everything, including the fact that as soon as my hair dries from the shower, I have to go out in the rain.

I know that you don’t wanna hear it / especially from someone so young
RR

November 8th, 2008

Adults in the eyes of the community

Here’s P. and I exiting the bar (bat) mitzvah machine. I post this because I know some wanted to see what it looked like, and this is sort of a poor shot of everything, but it’s the best I can do. And it does show us having fun, which is always a nice thing to have a picture of!

November 7th, 2008

In the papers

Well, many great things, obviously, mainly about the American election and how this is the beginning of good things. I feel like many people are experiencing envy of Americans right now, and that is not something we experience very often. There’s a great article in yesterday’s *Globe* by Karim Bardeesy, though, about how Canadian polictics might experience a similar surge of empowerment. Dare to hope!

Also, there’s a short article about me in the current issue of the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin. It’s a good piece, but it’s not online, so this information is really of use to you if you are a) in Ottawa, and b) know where to find that paper. But still, I’m pleased it’s out there for those who meet both criteria.

Ok, so the title/theme of this post is something of a reach–I just had two disparate things to say and they both happened to be published in newspapers. But it’s Friday and I am sooo tired. A few people have asked me today if I have plans for the evening and I do–curling up in the fetal position. Week of November 3, you have defeated me. But in a good way.

You’re hot then you’re cold
RR

November 6th, 2008

Everyone is awesome today

1) Today Fred reminds us all that she predicted Tuesday’s historic victory for Obama in July 2004. Today *I* would like to remind you all that I have been saying since the 90s that Fred is a genius, so really, reflected glory ought be mine. I predict further that somehow (from behind the scenes, most like) Fred also will do great things for government. Check back in 4.

2) Evie Christie‘s Desk Space is always awesome for literary voyeurism, but Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer‘s entry is bonus good because it not only talks about what she’s working on, it features a clip!

3) The new issue of The New Quarterly arrived last night, packed with goodness, including the much anticipated “On a Picnic” by the amazing Kerry Clare.

I am well pleased with our universe at the moment, what with all of the above, plus a democratic president-elect, plus 15-degree weather in November, plus…oh, maybe I’ll have some pudding now!

You’re in then you’re out
RR

November 5th, 2008

The Enormity of the Task Ahead

Four years ago I went down to Florida to volunteer for John Kerry during the final days before the election. I had never been anywhere near a campaign office before, but the one I worked in contained exactly what I had hoped and expected it would: an immense swirl of positive energy and optimism. Surrounded by dozens of people who thought I as I think, who were willing to volunteer endless hours with endless goodwill for what they believed was the common good, I was filled with hope. I loved doing my little lists of get-out-the-vote calls, eating leftover Hallowe’en candy, chatting with impassioned strangers and believing wholeheartedly that change was good, possible and imminent.

Such was my blinkered (and coddled) worldview going into Election Night 2004, and profound dismay and distress was the result. I hadn’t ever spoken to anyone who didn’t think George Bush was a disastrous liability to America and the world, and therefore I thought such people did not exist. I couldn’t believe that anyone would vote against (in my perception) their own ecomonic security, the solidarity of nations, diplomacy and advocacy for peace.

I left the campaign office in the afternoon and spend election night with my family, who are considerably more informed about politics (and everything) than I am. Around 2am, I had to be pried from my chair (a chair I still dislike for it’s association with that evening) and sent to bed with the firm message that the situation was not going to change. If you’ve ever tried to explain anything to me at 2am, including where the bathroom is, you’ll know I have a hard time absorbing information past midnight and I *did not buy it*.

I was so terribly disillusioned to be wrong.

Four years later, I spent election night at the home of lovely friends and a puppy with whom I have a dubious relationship. Last night, when the puppy hurled himself at my chest, I gave him a hug and whispered in his floppy ear, “Remember me, Mookie? Remember when I came to visit last time and you bit me? Let’s not do that again, ok?”

And we didn’t. The evening was so fun and easy, because we were *justifiably* confident long before we had any right to expect that. Unlike my long miserable night in 2004, things were fairly obvious at 9 and over at 11. I could not, however, go home, because we had balloons and blue cookies and noisemakers, the puppy and the speeches and joy to share. I have never made it to the speechifying before–I found McCain’s “the fault is mine” concession speech deeply moving and personal. Obama’s speech was glossier and while he said many things that impressed me, it wasn’t amazing. But here’s the crazy thing–he’s got at least 4 more years of speeches. I’m willing to wait.

I’m still pretty ill-informed, cheerful and excitable about politics, but I’ll never again be in such a happy bubble as I was in 2004. I know now that what I feel I know to be right is not universal, and that there is more to any issue than an everyday goofball person can ever imagine. I am sure I do not well understand any of the positions of Obama’s that I so firmly endorse. But I am happy that I didn’t give up on American democracy, and happy that, if I don’t understand, there is someone in the most powerful office in the world whom I trust to get it.

Despite the two wars, the economic disaster, the health-care system and everything I don’t even know about, I am filled with hope. And I’m so glad those little girls are getting a puppy of their own.

True patriot love
RR

November 4th, 2008

Rose-coloured Reviews The Incredible Bar Mitzvah Machine

Everytime I’ve heard tell, or even asked a pointed question regarding the The Incredible Bar Mitzvah Machine information has been vague, mainly regarding the history of the project and not what it actually does. This review will mainly follow that circumspection, as the mystery of what’s inside is half the fun, and because the history and the outside of the project is a sufficient other half.

So! The Bar Mitzvah Machine was built in memory of the artist Charles Katz, who was talented, ironic, well-friended, Jewish and dyslexic. He was unable to complete the reading necessary for his bar mitzvah because of the dyslexia, and years later began to talk of a machine that would provide a stressless solution to this miss. He died sadly young, in his fifties, and because he was well-friended, there was an immediate urge to do something to commemorate his life and his loss.

The suggestion that the artists who knew and loved Mr. Katz actually *make* the bar mitzvah machine was mainly laughed out of the cafe, but someone wrote it up and submitted it to Nuit Blanche and, when it was accepted, the gang rallied and actually made it. The machine was a tremendous success at the 2008 event.

So what is it? A retrofitted photobooth with a tallis for a curtain )go to the link to see the pic–it makes perfect sense once you do). Inside is a touch screen that will take you through a very very *very* fast and loose approximation of the Hebrew texts necessary to become an adult in the eyes of God and the Jewish community. Then you emerge from the booth, and here is the best part, according to me–the artists and people waiting in line for the machine play the parts of your loving extended family! Cheering! Throwing candy at you! Photography and congratulations, maybe even a hug!

It’s friendly, it’s funny, and it may make you think about your community, if thinking is something you are inclined to do. And you get a certificate at the end that outlines your newfound adult responsibilities…mainly but not exclusively to do with party attendence.

Mazel tov!

I’ve been all right
RR