It’s been a while

Too many things have been changing, and I find that I am retreating into myself until I get it all sorted out, again. This is not good for writing output.

2011 SFPA Online Halloween Poetry Reading

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halloween, MP3, sfpa

The 2011 Science Fiction Poetry Association’s annual Halloween Poetry Reading is online and, I suspect, in its final form. SFPA members reading their own spooky poetry include

1. “Pumping Up the Local Economy” by David Kopaska-Merkel
2. “Wicked Karnival: A Tribute to Tod Browning, Jr.” by Stephen M. Wilson
3. “A House with No Windows” by F.J. Bergmann
4. “The Head” by G. O. Clark
5. “Sentient Shadows Rise” by David Glen Larson
6. “A Night at Hotel Sedgewick” by irving
7. “Not Alone” by Ann K. Schwader
8. “The Cosmic Web” by David Lee Summers
9. “All Creatures Great and Small” by Elissa Malcohn
10. “Death in a Harlequin Suit” by Karen A. Romanko
11. “Vision Stalker” by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld
12. “Vicious Trees” by Mary A. Turzillo
13. “Waking Beauty” by Lyn C. A. Gardner
14. “Secrets” by Deborah P Kolodji
15. “Renovation” by Kath Abela Wilson

This is my sixth year of serving as editor of the Halloween Poetry Reading page. I have enjoyed it very much. We had a nice turnout of poets; I am hopeful that next year, more people will step forward to contribute Halloween art, also. Not that I mind doing most of the pictures, but it’s nice when there’s more participation in all areas. In addition to my artwork, there are pictures by Geoffrey Landis and Kath Abela Wilson. 

“Outward Voyage”

I received my contributor’s copy of Star*Line in yesterday’s mail; my poem “Outward Voyage” is on page 24. It is sequentially related to “Endings,” which was in the July/August 2009 issue of Star*Line. In “Endings,” we see the last day of earth through the eyes of a person in a temporary dwelling on Mars–at least, as I interpret it. In “Outward Voyage,” there is a momentary reflection of a person on a star ship that’s bound for a new planet to settle on…still looking backward, as we do when momentarily disoriented by momentous changes in our lives or immediate surroundings.

 

Time Passes

The moments pass by, and seasons change. I’ve picked the last of the squash from the garden , made an attempt at drying the parsley, and vacuumed the living room and office, again. I’m also nearly recovered from the breathing problems encountered at the end of August. It’s not fun to get winded and out of shape from a condition that is triggered by aerobic exercise and/or cold weather, when regaining stamina, especially at this time of the year, necessarily involves both triggers.

A lot has been happening here since the last time I made an entry in this blog. For one thing, this latest downturn in the economy has hit a lot of businesses, including mine, this time. For another, we are getting organized for retirement living, which perhaps is coming more quickly than we had planned for. Still part-time work, at the very least, for the two of us, but certainly a slower pace. Our dream for the coming months is…to not have to get up first thing on a winter morning and shovel away snowdrifts. I do, however, hope that I will be up to shoveling the sidewalks and steps prior to the arrival of the day’s customers. I have always loved the winter and would like to be able to get out into it more often.

In the meantime, I am rereading What Color Is Your Parachute? and incorporating the information and approaches into my own job search strategies, which I hope will help my customers decide what they want to do with their lives and go out and do it.

9/11/2001

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9/11

On that day, I was laid up with a severely sprained and twisted ankle, pretty much unable to move and in dire pain whenever my ankle wasn’t elevated. I did have some awareness that my brother Tim might be in his company’s home office in NYC, the World Trade Center towers, but actually I didn’t think a lot about that at the time. Many people I knew/was aware of worked in Manhattan were in the writing and publishing industry, and I was concerned for them. And, I will admit, not so much for those who died as for those who loved or cared for them and were still alive.

And I was concerned for the consequences. I wrote two pieces in response to the attacks on NYC and the Pentagon, both reproduced in the RECENT PROSE section of this blog: In the Wake of Terrorism (originally published by Moondance eZine) and The Stories We Tell (originally published in 2002 in The High Plains Reader, before there was an electronic edition). The ensuing years have been unfortunate. I still am convicted that there was a better path than the one taken.

Artist Date

I ended up doing a lot on the Internet during my time off from reading social networking messages. (Actually, I did some of that, too.) I started a new FB page for my creative photography and writing activities with plans to move materials not related to my editing and rèsumè services off of my The Written Word (DBA) FB page.  That involves a little promotion work, which I’m not good at, since I need 25 fans to get a shortened URL.

I took some photographs, the past few days, wrote in some of my blogs (and other people’s), and had the first summer squash of the season on yesterday’s luncheon salad. It was quite good!

What I have not done is catch up on sleep, which I will start on now, by taking a short nap before lunch.

 

As mentioned elsewhere

I am taking up to a week’s vacation from reading/responding to social networking posts. This doesn’t mean that I won’t occasionally “like” a news article via Facebook. Rather, I will not be spending time reading other people’s posts. This is after the manner of Julia Cameron’s “reading deprivation” week. Since I already do not watch television or listen to the radio (other than the amateur bands), social media is it.

Reorganization

With the changes and additions I have been making to this blog, I should have commented on the whats and whys. I’m becoming…I wouldn’t want to say “goal oriented,” but rather, I feel a need to simplify, to streamline things so that they fit more comfortably with who I am and how I prefer to do things. This doesn’t mean that I am cutting down on my writing or my photography. Instead, I find in me a desire to compartmentalize. Here, less trivia (according to my idea of trivia, anyway). At Postcard Art, more of my photographs. At Quiet Spaces, more creative and domestic work (poetry, recipes, hobbies, daily life), and at LiveJournal I want to center on conversations, interactions and generally on being a member of a broader community. Note to self: I must remember to post more links to point people to relevant posts on my other blogs.

I still am not sure about Facebook. I have a business presence there, as well as family, and so I wouldn’t want to drop FB entirely. Twitter? I have not gotten into Twitter. Google Plus will depend on whether there is a large local segment with opportunities to interact with folks my own region of the country. As with all things, finances also play a role. As always, Blogspot is good for announcements and updates. ETA: If I concentrate my creative writing on my SFF.Net space, it will be easier for me to find it. As I find time, I plan to go through the posts on that blog and move what doesn’t fit that pattern to another blog. 

Because I am so limited in my contacts with people in the RL environment, Internet and letter writing take on added importance. I expect that trend to continue as years pass.

Thoughts on a Rainy Weekend

There has been some talk recently concerning expectations encouraged by The Artist’s Way and the failure of synchronicity to adequately meet our day-to-day needs for such vital necessities as food, clothing, and shelter. That is, doing what we love does not guarantee that the money will follow.

This is a truth. What we produce as we do what we love will not always find an audience or buying public. It is the same problem as with looking for great literature among the thousands of titles of self-published books. Even the best work can be overlooked or buried in the flood of dross. It doesn’t mean that my or your work isn’t any good. It may simply not have found its audience or the group of buyers who really want or need what we create. Or…it may simply be undifferentiated from other products or not so creative or attractive as we had thought or hoped.

Perhaps the true benefit of doing what we love and letting the money follow may be that doing so broadens our horizons, our experience, and our willingness to embrace new ideas and paths and possibilities. Yesterday I picked up the 2010 edition of Richard Bolles’ book What Color Is Your Parachute, in which he laid out possible courses of action for recent college graduates who simply cannot find a job in the current job market, or who were last hired and first fired when the bottom fell out of the economy before they had the chance to gain enough on-the-job experience to make them desirable to prospective employers in the midst of economic uncertainties and dismal mid-term forecasts.

Find a temporary job doing anything, he suggested, even something you hate, so that you can continue to eat. If possible and you are on good terms with family, move back home, so that you can save some money working that temporary job and be better able financially to take advantage of an opportunity for something better when it does come along. Thanks to Barack Obama’s (hopefully ongoing) healthcare reforms, young people can stay on their parents’ health insurance policies longer. Bolles also suggested checking out alternative sources of insurance including Freelancers Union (of which I am a member, still, I believe).

I think that this is good advice. I somewhat regret for myself and for some others I know that physical roadblocks prevent following this advice as fully as we might like or as completely as survival might suggest as prudent.

The core that I see in this, though, is that there are many different venues in which our unique creative flairs can be of benefit and in which we can settle in for a little while to gain new skills, form additional networks, and taste of new outlets for our creative urges and new and different expressions of artistic expression and ingenuity. There are as many ways to give back to this world as there are ways in which people can receive and thrive upon what we can offer them.

For example, I can write poems that inspire and short stories that entertain and essays that provide encouragement. What other means are at my disposal to inspire, entertain, and encourage the people around me? In the course of my day, I can listen to the people with whom I come into contact, offering respect, attention, and honest, positive responses. Because a common thread among creative activities is the identification, portrayal, and sharing of beauty and of what is up-building for others.

So, I may not be building skyscrapers or writing million-dollar best sellers, but I can interact with people in the course of doing my work, encouraging them to recognize, explore, expand and employ their own talents and abilities. A different sort of writing…a different sort of creativity, but just as enjoyable as finding a publisher for a favorite essay or poem. Not recognized as artistic, but still a utilization of my creativity and a worthwhile application of my artistic skills.

A favorite truth

“One need not hope in order to undertake; nor succeed in order to persevere.” –William I, Prince of Orange

I love this quotation, which I’ve seen attributed to William I. It calls into question the nature of “success.” What is truly important, if one must choose between the two? Who we become? or What we achieve? What values will we uphold? Do we defend the right, or shift positions to align ourselves with the apparent “winning side”?

When it is apparent that, facing war, violence, or socio-political injustice, there is nothing one can do to affect the course of events, that the tide is moving in the wrong direction and we feel that nobody recognizes the fact–or nobody seemingly dares to speak truth to power, do we keep silent for fear of being different, ostracized, attacked, killed, or ridiculed? Do we try to quit caring, because we cannot do anything to change what is? Do we keep silent because we are afraid to find out that other people think we’re stupid to care about the matter at all?

I find myself quite often out of step with what is happening around me. So, too, does a favorite poet, C. S. MacCath, who feels a deep conviction to speak out against the annual killing of baby seals: The Annual Hay Island Seal Slaughter.

While I do not feel that any of us is called to be a passionate advocate for every just cause, to keep silent when we do feel that call to speak, which is as legitimate an action as any other, we owe it to ourselves and to the world to step forward and speak the words that are given to our hearts to speak.

Cross-posted from The Written Word Journal.