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Showing posts with label New Year's Resolutions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Year's Resolutions. Show all posts

Saturday, December 29, 2018

At the threshold of years: a few resolutions

Caspar David Friedrich, A Dreamer
Wikipedia Commons
Эрмитаж
                          

Merry 5th day of Christmas and Happy New Year,
with some thoughts, hopes, and plans for the coming year...
  • Turn in two final book manuscripts.
  • Continue running the Christ Church Cooperstown women's group another year--next up, a book discussion about the curious medieval document, The Cloude of Unknowyng. (Last year, there was one book event--Buechner's Godric.) Figure out some more wild outings and events and workshops, often arts-related.
  • Send out at least one poetry manuscript. 
  • Do some work for Fr. James Krueger's meditation retreat Mons Nubifer Sanctus in Lake Delaware with my friend Laurie, now that we're both on the board.
  • Read more. 2018 was a bad year for reading because I was stretched a bit too thin. I want to read more classical writers and also some of the early Christian mystical writers. More poetry and stories. And the stack of unread novels.
  • Make like a tree and put forth green leaves. Drink from deep sources.
  • Work on that odd idea for a new novel. Secret, of course.
  • Improve my health to avoid losing months to illness...
  • Skip blurbing other people's books for at least a year (because I couldn't manage those commitments in 2018.)
  • Keep up with volunteering because that is, well, right. (If you're not entirely happy with your life, try volunteering in various sorts of places--you find out that you receive a great deal more than you give.)
  • Mess around with collecting the stories.
  • Remember love one another, and that I can't transform the world but can be transformed--and that such a thing does budge the world a tiny bit. We are each rather tiny...
  • Be a responsive mother, wife, daughter, friend. That's a goal for every year.
  • Be grateful that I live in a warm house in a cold climate, that the lights and plumbing work, that peace mostly reigns in my country, and that I manage to keep getting requests for book manuscripts even though I haven't bent the knee to the gods of publishing and marketing in the various helpful but unclean ways possible.
  • Prune my book collection so that the second story of my 1808 house doesn't fall into the first, organize my manuscripts, and clean my hodgepodge writing room.
  • Don't run after what the culture declares as valuable. Sink into what matters and what lasts.
  • Laugh and be joyful. Frolic with that curious secret society known under various names, including The Bread and Cheese Club.
  • Don't ever tell your deepest, most glowing resolutions in such a silly thing as a blog post!
Make liminal wishes...

Thursday, January 04, 2018

Resolves and best-laid plans, 2018

Janusz Hylinski at sxc.hu
Last year was a year of much travel for me--three trips from Cooperstown to western North Carolina, one long stay in Worcester, Massachusetts at the American Antiquarian Society, a trip to Paris, and a trip to Japan. This year will also have some travel, but I mean to make better use of time when I am at home. As I have a husband and three children plus lots of regular activities scheduled, I'm pretty busy there too.

Make resolves you can keep. Make resolves you can't keep.

Don't linger with what is meaningless (boring or feeble) in visual or written art.

Don't waste time. Marvell's winged chariot whirs like a cicada in the background.

Don't finish books that aren't what they were meant to be or what they should be. Don't waste your precious time.

Don't judge books based on what they are not.

Clean up your writing room and all books and papers throughout the house.

Jettison things. Books, clothes, objects.

Less sugar!

Support small presses.

Go through the masses of poems and other work that you've never revised or published.

Throw much away!

Finish polishing the (very) long novel, acquire your third agent, and write a short novel.

Publish a book of poems.

Sell a novel.

Quit dithering and decide what to do about reprints.

Volunteer. Do secret things that feed the soul.

Do much less social media.

Hunt down what is meaningful.

Merry 11th day of Christmas!

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

Ditherings (in lieu of New Year's resolutions)

Detail from one of Kim Vanderheiden's pieces
for a poem in The Book of the Red King. It's interesting to have
an as-yet-unpublished book that already has art made
for some of its contents by several artists.
I don't think that has ever happened to me before.

I seem to be full of ditherings rather than resolutions, so I thought that I would make a list of my dithers.

Dither no. 1: I have broken with all novel-writing tradition (all of mine, that is) and stopped writing a novel on p. 145. For months! Usually I am a raging maniac until I finish. (Quietly a maniac, though. I keep it to myself. Also the related dithering. I'm still a good wife and mother and All That.) But. What is going on? Am I caught in a dither-quagmire? Do I even remember what the book was about?

Dither no. 2: That zany y. a. book I wrote years ago for my youngest, the one that needed about a two-week polish. Why don't I get back to it and spend two weeks? Or should I?

Dither no. 2: What on earth should I talk about at the Buechner Workshops at Fuller? I have come up with a remarkable number of topics, all highly ditherable and even dirigible in a few cases.

Dither no. 3: What is going on with The Book of the Red King? Is it accepted or not? (This is not my dithering, but there is dithering--or at least methodical tortoiseosity--involved.)

Dithers no. 4-5: Where should I send Rave, the collection of unleashed praise poems? Where should I send the new manuscript of formal poems? Dither, dither, dither... To my surprise, I have sent each to a contest (how resolute and surprising and anti-dither), but that's just spitting in the dark along with a thousand other poets, so what's the point?

Dither no. 6: Should I do something with my tiny stories? Should I not bother?

Dithers no. 7-8: What about the short stories? And the ones for teens? Yes? No? DITHER!

Dither no. 9: Should I bother to go back to having an agent? Yes, probably! No, I simply hate doing things like looking for an agent, and my first two (one deceased, one parted-from-amicably) just fell into my lap (in the usual manner of hackneyed speaking--nothing literal there) so really I don't hate looking for an agent because I have never done it. But I have heard rumors. Dark rumors. Nasty rumors. Rumors of woe and discouragement and despair. And so forth. Also on the no side: I am too agreeable. Too easily persuaded. Too n-i-c-e.

Dither no. 10: I've turned down some reprint offers and want to do my own reprints for a few books for which I hold rights reversions. However, this involves a good deal of research and work, and as a result, a mountain of dithering about many little decisions. Nevertheless, dithering surely will not last forever, right? Lemme dither about that a minute.

About dithering.... Do I dare to eat a peach? Yes, I do, thank you, Mr. Eliot, and I'm fine with mermaid songs. What I'm not good at is quarrying time, marketing, keeping my writing room tidy, and juggling-and-balancing all the demands of motherhood, wifehood, cleaning-the-house-hood, and all other relevant and irrelevant but needed hoods on the very tippy-tip of my nose.

And this is the end (or is it?) of the Dithers.

Friday, December 30, 2011

Bookwise



Sample pages grey
New Year a-coming! Get a Vicki-calendar here...
New Year’s resolutions/orders-to-self
in the kingdom of books

1-   Do more book events at conferences/meetings.
2-   Polish The Book of the Red King where needed and submit by year's end.
3-   Do final reads on some manuscripts already accepted.
4-   Don’t be so dratted lazy about sending out poems.
5-   Don’t drive yourself absolutely bats by agreeing to do more than you can for other people's novel and poetry manuscripts...
6-   Care about what matters and let the rest go.
7-   Do something about that manuscript gathering dust!
8-   Read more. Maybe you'll have time...
9-   Establish the regional arts group that you have been feebly toying with—start with a web site?
10-  Don’t bother thinking about luck… It’s way beyond your control.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Christmas-to-Epiphany

2009 WRITING RESOLUTIONS

Finally, finally, finally come up with a topic for the nonfiction book request because in the current Titanic-going-down publishing climate, one should be grateful for requests from a high-class house. Then work on it!

Don't be lazy. Send out those dratted little white envelopes now and then. I still hate submitting poetry and am glad some magazines have online submissions.

Work on collecting a book of stories.

Don't be lazy, no. 2; do something about What Sits on the Shelf.

Don't be lazy no. 3; do more readings.

Another long narrative poem? More poems, definitely and already.

Write a ghost tale worthy of M. R. James and Henry James. Perhaps a few other stories.

Commit surprise.


NEW YEAR'S EVE

I usually post our dinner menu (8:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. this year), but I don't seem to have kept track of wines and champagne and drinks. Unless I extract them from my husband later, you'll just have to keep imagining the stars in the glass...

It was a bit like Epiphany, as we had three Kings from afar for dinner--one from Australia, one originally from Canada, and one who was born on runway nine at Heathrow, back when it was a village and not an airport. Peter King, the runway child of 86, is one of the funniest men of my acquaintance and gives me hope that elder ages can be joyful.



Appetizers
Tapanade
Seared ahi tuna kabobs marinated in soy sauce and sesame seed
with wasabi mayonaise dipping sauce

Soup
Eggplant and roast red pepper pother

Fish
Backfin Crab cakes
with Rutabaga Scratchbacks and mongolian fire oil

Salad
Candied Walnuts, Blackberries and smoked gouda
on greens with olive oil and vinegar

Main
Braised short ribs and rosemary-cabernet sauce
Gorgonzola, wild mushroom and shallot polenta

Dessert
Old-fashioned gingerbread cake with mango ice cream
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WHAT I'M READING IN THE NEW YEAR
I'm reading the Potter books to N at bedtime and finding that I've changed my mind about Rowling, so that's interesting. I'm reading an old Godine book that collects essays of William Plomer--right now I'm reading some about English and Welsh poets and wondering if I am related to all these Welsh poetry-committing Thomases, as I have a fiery Welsh Thomas in the bole of my tree. I just picked up a copy of Eudora Welty's "The Robber Bridegroom" illustrated by Barry Moser and thought I might reread it and see if it's still on my love-list. Lots of poetry. Some William Logan essays. An anthology of ghost stories edit by Brad Leithauser.

SOME QUOTES FROM ELECTRIC DELIGHTS BY WILLIAM PLOMER
The electric delight of admiring what is admirable. --Charlotte Bronte, Shirley

Plomer puts me to shame, genre-wise. In these days of uniform packaged goods, I am inconvenient because I don't stick to one thing but write lyric poetry, long narrative poetry, novellas, stories, and novels. But Plomer! Poetry, novels, stories, biographies, autobiographies, children's book, libretti (with the great Benjamin Britten), and diaries (as editor). What a time that was, when one could be anything!

Although he declares that "poetry is simply an art to which the special gifts of women, who excel in so many things, are not as rule adapted," he is clearly in love with Christina Rossetti's poems and biography: "We have seen what that experience was: it was the experience of a woman of deep feeling who was frustrated in love and continally oppressed by illness, and whose heart and mind were subjected to a religious discipline, but who could not help singing; her sensuousness, her playfulness, her longings and regrets, her dreams and fears and fantasies, all found expression in her poetry. She has been called morbid, and if it is morbid not to take an easy way out of one's difficulties, not to except life on the cheap and easy terms that are good enough for most people, not to compromise, not to be ashamed to be sad and admit it; if it is morbid to be oppressed by the vanity of human wishes and worldly shows, well, then, she was morbid, and morbid in good company. But in reading her, we do well never to lose sight of the religious discipline, which causes her to strike often a strong and stoic note."

"A poet is liable to be a kind of exile in his own country or time: the consciousness of difference, and the effort to communicate it, may provide his motive power as a poet."

"It is needful for a serious writer to try and measure his own limitations; it must be his hope and it may be his luck to transcend them. Much of the verse offered to editors and publishers, and some of the verse they cause to be printed, is deformed by the inability of its authors to harmonize what they intend to say with their way of saying it, or to convince even the well-disposed reader that it is worth saying. Looking for poetry, that reader is often confronted with feeble or facile or bardic posturings, empty rhetoric, strainings after effect, reach-me-down diction, turgidity, false simplicity or false complexity." That was a passage from a positive review of R. S. Thomas in 1956. I wonder how he would sum up poetry's weaknesses in our time. It seems to me that ours are far greater than these.

ILLUSTRATION
That's a quick doodle by R, a few years back. She must have been around 15. I'm on my husband's computer and found it in his collection of pictures... And today is a Snow Day, free of school.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Post-Epiphany Resolutions


Marly’s 2008 resolutions (the bookish ones)

1.
Continue writing about Long Grass Books on the blog.

2.
Cease to pay attention to things that fritter and are devoid of meaning. Live the larger and more radiant life of art; give up what shrinks and darkens the spirit.

3.
Clean up the dratted post-earthquake writing room.

4.
Preserve your humility in the face of art.

Zephyr has floated by and asked that I amplify number 4. What does that mean to me, humility in the face of art?

Here goes, at the risk of sounding like an utter ninny...

It means this: despite our civilization’s current turn away from words and away from beauty, the vocation of artist still exists; that it is a vocation of rightness, a calling that matters; that a vocation is not a thing to rest easy in; that making the beautiful is tied to labor and readiness and willingness to explore beyond what has become comfortable. Most of all, humility before art means acknowledging the great mysteries of life and death and striving with no thought of self—in fact, with loss of self in the striving—to make a thing that radiates life and beauty.

Of course, thousands of artists of all sorts have devoted their lives to this work and have passed away as though they had never been. Yet the striving itself was an assault on death and meaninglessness that affirmed that life can have meaning and that people can live brighter, bigger lives.


5.
Bother to send out some poems—don’t sit around waiting for requests.

6.
Post more pieces about younger or beginning writers.

7.
Apply some ingenuity: think about filling all fiction requests, even if they’re “wrong” for you; that is, bend the request into a bow that fits the arrows in your sheaf.

8.
Don’t waste so much time. Listen. That’s time’s winged chariot you hear…

9.
Don’t expect other people to do anything for you, but be sure and thank them if they do.

10.
Grow more chitininous armor, yet grow more tender within.

11.
Don’t wait for someone, something...

12.
And don't fret.



***

Fantasy Magazine has been conducting a poll for best stories of the year, but unfortunately "The Comb" was left off. It's now up, third from the bottom; if you're a reader, feel free to go read and vote. "Seven Crooked Tinies" is also on the list. New Year's Day marked the anthology reprint of "The Comb" in Rich Horton's Fantasy: Best of the Year (Prime Books, 2008).

***

Photograph credit, "Winter 1": I'd be tempted to call this one after the poem, "The Road Not Taken," and say that this is Frost's "yellow wood" when winter comes, as it always must. This trace through a winter forest is courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu/ and Peter Hellebrand of Rotterdam, the Netherlands. "I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence / Two roads diverged in a wood / And I took the one less traveled by / And that has made all the difference"