writery stuff

Celebrate UVic Authors!
which apparently includes me, with my little Lulu.com book and 4 stories in e-zines. Huh. I may have mentioned, around the time of the United Way booksale, that the university bookstore asked for a copy of said book for their UVic authors display, and after me saying dubiously 'You know it's self-published, right?' and them saying yes they did so what, I got hold of a copy (back from a friend) and dropped it off.
For which I was paid 2 months later, so hey.

Then March 8, as part of IdeaFest 2012, was Celebrate UVic Authors Reception & Reading. Wait, I'll borrow the text from the UVic website:

Celebrate UVic Authors - Reception and Reading

Dr. Reeta Tremblay, Vice-President Academic and Provost, the University of Victoria Libraries and the University of Victoria Bookstore invite UVic staff, students, faculty, alumni and members of the community to a Reception and Reading to celebrate and honour UVic Authors who published works in 2010.
This event is held during IdeaFest 2012, when UVic celebrates all that is creative and inventive in every corner of campus.
UVic authors who will read from their work:
John Borrows, Drawing Out Law: a Spirit’s GuideCarla Funk, ApologeticRobert Budd, Voices of British ColumbiaPeter Stephenson, Zombie Factory
Thursday March 8, 2012
7:00 - 9:00 p.m.
University Club  

I thought I'd go, it being free, and me kindly reminded of it by Paula Johanson, who had 3 nonfiction titles on the program bibliography. So I left our Thursday night open-house early, and drove up to the uni, where I had to pay 2.25 for parking (this may be a legit declareable expense).
In previous years the event has been held at the Bookstore, but since that building is being renovated,  it was in the more lounge-like venue of the University Club, formerly the Faculty Club. The room was cedar-panelled, with high ceilings and lots of glass at the far end where the readers were, a piece of First Nations art hovering reflected in the gable window above them. In front of them were ranks of wide armchairs, wood and leather and nubbly upholstery.
Trays of little cakes and sliced fruit, a punchbowl set out on two tables against one wall, and a bar at the near end, where the books were set up on counters and stands. Massive stone fireplace across from the refreshment tables.
Because of eating dinner, I missed the first two readings, so I didn't look around then, but found an empty seat and started paying attention. After a brief intro to the Voices project, the author didn't read himself, but played two recordings of archival material, which I liked for letting the subjects speak for themselves.
Zombie Factory was also a collection of testimonies, the two chosen being from a refugee camp, one from a survivor and one from an aid worker, both young men speaking of the same events how the inmates formed gangs or substitute family groups, and how one who hadn't found a group had died suddenly in his sleep. Not an easy or comfortable reading to hear.
After some questions, a chance to buy the books and get them signed. Me being broke, I snagged some nibblies and punch, and had a look at the books lined up around the corner of the room. There was mine, but I didn't take a photo of it, though I thought it did look fairly decent among the rest. Paula introduced me to some of the faculty and grad students present, and I knew most of the librarians & staff.
I was curious whether the Writing Dept had loosened up on its staunch litfic-only position, since I'd been processing orders for graphic novels on their book fund (them, French, and Spanish). The answer was 'maybe a little', and at least not as rigid as SFU. I've also ordered a self-published book on mountaineering for them, and another on travel (from lulu, actually) but they don't want to buy f/sf, even by Canadian authors, and they don't want to buy books on writing and selling commercially (without the aid of govt grants).
I had allowed myself a quiet little fantasy of dropping the phrase 'well, when I was talking to my agent' into a conversation with someone from Writing, but fortunately the opportunity did not come up, so I went the evening without being obnoxious and generally enjoyed it.

Speaking of my agent, I had the phone conversation with her to make sure we were 'on the same page' (argh) about where Cost of Silver should be going. The issues identified were:
1) Strengthening the transition from Tom/Griffin being out purely to save his own skin/soul to his being willing to fight with the villagers against the enclosures and draining. Clarify that this is a haven (even though he may not at first recognise the concept) and his identification with the group where he has found acceptance, to the extent that he will risk himself for it as well as for a specific person like Nan.
2) Lay the groundwork for the romantic arc, making it plausible that despite the adolescent lust Griffin feels for Alice Dewe and their having shared one fight against a revenaunt, the understanding and experience he has in common with Nan make her the one he loves. So, build the way Alice is creeped out by him, and strengthen the shift from Nan being almost motherly to her seeing him as a man when he comes back from the war.
3) Make each sequence as compelling as the first (Tom's flight to Holdfast's escape). Um, sure, I'll work on that.
We also talked about choosing pov characters enough to suggest sweep, but not so many as to lose reader attention. Present day storyline is Joy and Rob, and historic is Griffin, Nan, Alice and Redfearn. Charles and Cromwell don't count because they're so public it's more like omni than another character--there's a relief.
Since Redfearn has advanced himself from being a tertiary character to nearly challenging Matthew Hopkins for plot impact, we talked about making him rounded, and sympathetic as well as ruthless. I figure making him a pov character helps with that. She recommended Charlie Stross's take on a killer in Rule 34, "Charlie's so bad!"
Then we chatted about books a bit, with a recommendation of Leah Bobet's Above, just about to come out. I was surprised to hear that Tor's fairy tale series from a few years back, with the gorgeous Tom Canty covers, hadn't been that much of a success. They were popular among the people I hang out with, but I suppose that doesn't necessarily translate to popular commercial success.

I was hesitant (note to the Internet at large: hesitant, or even reluctant, not reticent; please look reticent up before using it next time!) to give an ETA for this draft, given that every deadline I've given myself on this story has had its butt kicked. But I went for 2 months to get the modern-day storyline filled in at 50k, and another 2 months to trim out and fill in the historic storyline, keeping it within 150k.
I so hope I'm not lying. It's twice as much time as Nanowrimo, I say cheerfully. My conscience mutters 'you have never won Nanowrimo', and I tell it to shut up.
A little bouncy-happy addendum: she figures that once Cost of Silver sells, Willow Knot will go as well.

moderately eventful

Last week I was off to sunny Penticton (which it was, yes) for the Kingdom Arts & Sciences (& Bardic) Championships. A pleasant ride on the ferry, where I ensconced  myself in the buffet and nibbled my way across. Picked up by Stephen, Judy, Connie and Stewart, to drive for 4 hrs or so through ...
snow,

 no snow,

 snow,

 no snow,

to sunny Penticton.

Where I helped with judging cheese made in a gourd after a Middle Eastern recipe,

 a 14th century Egyptian shadow puppet play (yes, I have video, but who knows if it will post?)

 and sat in on the judging of an Elizabethan portrait miniature. (which reminds me, I need to send some parchment scraps to the painter, so she can try them out.)

More text later!

betwixting

Blogging once again from the ferry, in Active Pass just now. On my way to the Kingdom Arts & Sciences & Bardic Championships, in the Interior of BC this year. I'm sitting in the buffet section, watching thickly-forested islands rumble by while I sip coffee (with whipped cream) and nibble on cheesecake and florentine biscuits.
Some days I can taste everything intensely, so I'm taking advantage of that while it lasts.

So, let's catch up. Writey stuff first. I finally got Dread Synopsis 2.2, the tighter, leaner, yet historically expansive! outline off to my agent.
"Thank you, this synopsis looks really great. I think you've found a manageable middle ground between "small genre story" and "overwhelming historical epic"! 

We'll be talking on the phone in a few days, to discuss the characters' emotional arcs which I sort of scanted in covering the events.
If that's sorted out satisfactorily, I just have to write about 75k to finish the first draft. A mere bag of shells, as a friend of  mine says.

And my story is among the 9 finalists in the Friends of Merril Short Story Contest. I'm not naming the story, or linking to the contest at present, because there's another round of judging to go. We'll see what happens in a month. However, congrats to Colleen Anderson, another finalist, and best of luck to her!
No word yet on whether there will be a cage match for the last round.

Semi-writey, I was off last weekend to Seattle for Potlatch 21, and to visit with my friend Lynne. I went to panels on 'collapse novels' and 'librarians'--the book of honour was Canticle for Leibowitz--and chatted with people in the dealers room and hospitality. Somehow I acquired books, which I had meant not to do, but when a collection of ghost stories by L.M. Boston falls in my path, what am I to do?
Now I've learned about FogCon, which sounds awfully tempting, but not a lot of lead time to decide.
Lynne and I went for dinner to a Greek restaurant adjoining a bookstore, where I was only saved from further acquisitions by their system not accepting my Canadian debit card because it had no expiry date.
No, I don't get it either, but it means it's still my turn to buy dinner (just as it is for me for Nikki, but for different reasons).

And entirely non-writey, I've started weight training, 3 times a week in the mornings, with MC to make sure I do it right. Thirty-plus years I've worked at the uni, and only now do I take advantage of my free gym access for anything more than showers. I've always been a bit of a slow starter.

trying again

to upload video and have it play. Maybe the limit is one per post?

According to Preview, this should show up. Yay. If you can play it, you will see Sutrisno's elder daughter beginning her dance and the gamelan players in the background.
I have a longer video, but it won't load. Ah well. It's interesting to see the classic moves done in modern Western dress. The second session she was wearing blue jeans and t-shirt, and bright pink socks. 

puppets again but different

Two Sundays in a row, this month, I was able to attend an open rehearsal sesssion of a gamelan orchestra, followed by an Indonesian lunch, followed by a workshop on Indonesian shadow puppetry, the wayang kulit.
The workshops were held at Merlin's Sun Theatre, a tiny theatre in the home of Tim Gosley, a puppeteer who worked with the Muppets, among others. He was hosting, in this case, with the demonstration and teaching done by Sutrisno Hartana, a wayang master and gamelan teacher.
I knew a little bit about wayang--I have a small shadow puppet of Hanuman--but next to nothing about gamelan music. (I hope I have enough space to put up a couple of videos, so I don't have to spread this out over two or three posts).

Gamelan
The orchestra was a mix of Sutrisno's family, from wife Anis, able to sing after recovering from throat surgery, to immensely cute preschooler son. His older daughter demonstrated dance while the younger played the bells. Other members were from the university, faculty or students (oddly, I don't recall any of them being music students, but I may have missed that in the introductions).
Gamelan orchestras are fairly informal. They may not practice together, but rely on players showing up to fill in various parts, and it seems to be loose and jazz-like, allowing improvisation.



Wayang

 Wayang kulit is shadow puppetry. There are puppets in the round as well, but that wasn't up this time.
The shadow puppets are made of untanned buffalo hide, elaborately pierced, painted and gilded.
You're looking at the performer's side, here. The audience would be on the other side of the screen, seeing only the shadows.
Performances start at sundown, originally lit by lamps, and run all night. There may be one puppeteer or several, and besides the gamelan orchestra, the puppeteer provides sound effects by holding a sort of knocker between his toes and rapping it against any hard surface (like a box of puppets).
The strips of blue foam at the bottom of the screen serve for jamming the puppets' base sticks into, so that the arms can be operated more easily, or a second character manipulated. Originally banana trunk would be used (I asked).

 The two fan shapes are multi-purpose. They are brought together and apart to signify the beginning of a play or scene, and can be fluttered across the screen to suggest wind, waves or fire. Fixed in place, one can stand for a palace or the forest. A character hidden in one while moving across the screen is travelling through a forest.
This pic is of the phoenix flying through a forest, with both puppets in fluttering motion. 

Again, it is the puppeteer who sees the brilliant painting and gilding, and that seems the wrong way around at first.
But here's what the audience sees.
Pretty impressive anyways, and more of the colour comes through than you might guess. You see the really intricate images you can get with the thin strong buffalo hide. Both the forest and the palace details can be clearly seen, with some bonus shadows from the puppets beside, waiting their turn for action.
Throughout the demonstrations, a little crowd of students would collect on the audience side of the screen, just watching the show, and having to be chased out so they could practice the art and see how the master performed it.



This video is a demonstration of two 'clown' characters conversing, showing the characteristic brusque motions and rough or squeaking voices. Lower-class characters usually stand lower on the screen, feet below the red border that signifies the earth. If characters lower themselves so, it suggests that they're sitting down or kneeling before a superior.

notes on a reading by a real author

The trouble with having an actual life, offline, is that it interferes with blogging. Thus I am over a week late posting about the one interesting event of Alumni Week at the university where I work (and of which I am an alumna).
There may have been other events that would have been interesting to other people, but consider whose blog this is, mm? So, yes, it was the reading by Robert Wiersema that I wanted to attend. Conveniently it was in the library, so I just had to shift my lunch hour around that day.
Mr. Wiersema is UVic's first Distinguished Alumnus, which he can add to 'bestselling Canadian novelist', 'distinguished book reviewer', and 'event coordinator for Bolen Books'. And teaching a Fiction Writing workshop at Camosun College. He's also a regular poster on Absolute Write.

The room for the reading is on the main floor of the library, one of the newer installations, with glass walls and one whiteboard wall. A multi-purpose room, without much in the way of built-in furniture. A good many rolling chairs had been wheeled in, and a desk and podium in front of the whiteboard wall. People strolled in, several of them library employees (more staff than librarians to my eye). The very tall new head librarian was of course present, chatting with the distinguished alum. Photos were taken with Mr. Wiersema posed signing his books (to go in Special Collections) and with the head librarian and an cheerful older couple whom I guessed to be the elder Wiersemas (yeah, I'm sharp that way).

Prefatory remarks by J. Bengtson in the usual vein of pref remarks, puffing Alumni Week, check out displays in Special Collections etc., anecdote about family connection to architect who designed circular campus, keeping it fairly short and on to honour to announce first official Distinguished Alumnus, Robert Wiersema, credits as above.

Wiersema is bearded, short and tending towards burly, with a contained energy that seems to fizz a little in the air around him. I imagine he'd be pretty effective in a rugby scrum. He begins by observing the changes in the McPherson library since he was a student 10 years ago (Hearing this, I wonder whether I should feel old.) The changes are both wonderful and alarming, he notes.
Then he gets down to it. He came to UVic because he wanted to write. As a child he wanted to write and draw, but by grade two he knew he was a failed artist, so he had to be a writer.
Embarrassing Disclosure # 1: as a child he devoured books--literally--he ate page corners.

First reading, from Bedtime Story, related to discovering the love of books:  protagonist's memory of post-bereavement childhood stay at grandparents' farm, his boredom relieved by finding box of papers and books belonging to his father, his entrancement by the sf/f paperbacks by an invented author.

He follows up by describing the passage as an interweaving of fiction with fact:  don't trust a fiction writer.
In the 1980s, the study options for writers were UVic or UBC. UVic's program was better regarded, and perhaps more important, it was further from home. He wanted distance from Agassiz, to be removed from the temptation to go home every weekend and never really leave. His parents smile.

Second reading, from Walk Like a Man, memoir of growing up with Bruce Springsteen's music. A passage about arriving at university, how strange to not know anyone after small town environment (however glad one was to escape it), being unsure how to begin making friends or even open conversation with strangers, and the influence of music.
Embarrassing anecdote about 14 identical pairs of robin's egg-blue underwear packed by his mother. His mother smiles and blushes.

 He began with a double major, History and Creative Writing. After finding how much study and work was involved in a history major, he dropped that. In second year he dropped Creative Writing because he realised he was not progressing in fiction writing, only in poetry. He shifted to English and took honours. He was also working at a downtown bookstore (not named--Munro's?) which made for a useful combination of studying the classics of literature and awareness of what was actually being read.
On to theory. The Newtonian physics of storytelling:  characters in stories are in stasis just before the story opens; they are acted on by an outside force which begins the story:  the inciting incident. In his Before I Wake, he puts the incident on the first page.

Third reading, the opening of Before I Wake. Though the accident is on the first page, the passage is not a description of the car accident, but the shock and self-recriminations of the parent thinking about it, how bereaved parents always say 'I only looked away for a moment', but this narrator never looked away, and yet still the child was hurt, perhaps killed.

Annoyingly, the inside flap of the jacket gives away what happens to the little girl, so the off-balance anxiety of the actual opening is undercut. A brief digression on book jackets, and how much he likes the front cover of Walk Like a Man, a Springsteen photo he had not seen before. A photo exists of himself in a similar leather jacket and similar pose. Generally he has been pleased with his cover art.
The passage is about how lives change in a moment / an impact, that is the key to fiction. Too many young writers fall into the trap of 'write what you know', taking it literally. His first stories were about young men leaving small towns and feeling dislocated, but without an impact that changed their lives and caused them to act.
He writes best out of fear. In December of 1998 he learned his wife was pregnant, and after the initial happiness he hit the what-ifs. What would be the worst thing that could happen? Your child being injured or killed. He remembered a Vancouver Sun story about a family whose young daughter was in a coma and who had reported mysterious and miraculous things happening around her. Putting that together with an idea of a family falling apart (I note here that a child's illness more often breaks up a family than brings it together.) he wrote the first draft of Before I Wake in a white heat over 3 months.
Then he put it into a drawer.
Eventually he took it out again. Before I Wake became a national bestseller, and has been translated into various languages.
He has come to realise that his fiction is consistently about an awful thing happening to a child about three years older than his own child. See above about writing out of fear. About what people do after the worst has happened?

Fourth reading, again from Before I Wake, from the storyline of the driver who hit the little girl, his shock, fear, horror and dislocation. The image of the child flying into the air haunts him, and he can't re-connect himself enough to do anything rational like turn himself in. He drives around, goes to the hospital and secretly observes the parents, then drives to a cliff overlooking the ocean (yeah, this is where you should go read the book).

In his fiction things often take a turn for the weird, but the stories are grounded in the realities of Victoria. Bedtime Story has a science fiction story buried inside it, but his writing is closer to magic realism, tied to the Island surroundings and fed by his own obsessions.

Question time
As a book reviewer, does he read or avoid dust jacket blurbs and inside flaps?
He often doesn't see them, as reviewing is done from galleys and proof copies.

Was fear part of his Springsteen memoir?
Yes, but it was a different fear, not of fear for the future or for his family.

What would be in the real-life equivalent of the box of books in Bedtime Story? (this was my question)
Pause for thought. Madeleine L'Engle's books; the Alfred Hitchcock's Three Investigators series; John Bellairs's The House With a Clock in its Walls and the sequels. He learned recently that Bellairs wrote the book for adults, but couldn't find a publisher, so simplified the prose somewhat for younger readers, but didn't diminish the creepiness. With Edward Gorey illustrations, it became first in a series, later continued by another writer. (It shows up fairly often as a Book Stumper as well--a book that makes a deep impression on young readers.)

J. Bengtson does thanks and acknowledgements, people stand up and wander about, straggle out. I trot up to the front, waiting my turn after a few notables. Wiersema says 'you were taking notes', and I say I'll probably be blogging (this is finally made true). Then I get to say 'I'm batgirl on Absolute Write', which is, after all, not something one can say every day and have the other person understand, so I must seize my chances. Brief chat, I confess real name, and promise to actually buy his books instead of just reading the library copy. (as soon as I get my Kobo back, sigh, whinge, sigh)

Then back upstairs for the afternoon's work, where I am unsurprised to see a request to add a copy of his Chizine title, A World More Full of Weeping, to the Main stacks, there being already a signed copy in Special Collections.

Magicians, seers and sages

 was the theme of this year's Medieval Seminar at UVic. Which was definitely one of the more interesting topics we've had, and--yay!--one which didn't leave me staring at the wall, wondering how on earth to set up a relevant display.

For one thing, literacy! Before literacy was common, writing was strongly identified with magic. Spelling. Grammar and glamour (a magical mind-control) have the same root. What is she writing, below? Perhaps a textual amulet to be carried for protection against evil.

Then from texts to textiles. Spells can be stitched or woven--think of all the mundane craft terms associated with magic. I'm tempted to mention some very good stories with textile magic, but since they're by modern authors and not medieval, I'll try to stay on topic. This below is embroidery by Elisabeth de Besancon, and lovely clean work of course. If I get hold of specific info about the stitches and so on I'll post it, but right now I have nowt.

I had to pick my moment carefully to get all three with their heads down. It's not quite the Three Fates, but evocative, don't you think? Fortunately none of them have shears.

This is just one of the more intriguing-looking bits of the display. Like the dried lizard? I always knew it would come in handy someday. I had fun writing up all the little cards.

Then there's magic associated with music. Enchanted by song, sung to sleep or madness. Fiddles that make all hearers dance. True Thomas the harper of the Queen of Faerie, the horns of Elfland.

I can promise you that none of this spread below was magicked. Just tasty!
After takedown we went home to a medieval feast of Grete Pie (the flour & water crust serves as the baking dish) of pork and chicken and dried apples, plums and raisins, side dishes of spinach salad and canabens with bacon, and a pudding of milk and almonds. (I am open to correction and addition on any of this, since all I did was make up gluten-free pastry for a secondary pie).

Oh, almost forgot. With the invaluable help of Joan (the harpist above) two smallish cloth hangings got painted, appropriate to the theme. I've been trying to pull that together for the last three? four? seminars, and never managed to set aside time. This time Joan made it happen. Yay!

Done over two evenings. The blue one is Joan's. Cool, isn't it? It made me remember how much I like painting.