I Am This Woman

I did it! I finished the 50K word goal for November!

More thoughts on this later, but for now, here’s the wonderful and cheesy message you get to read when you win NaNo 2008, which actually made me choke up a little.

Through storm and sun, you traversed the noveling seas. Pitted against a merciless deadline and fighting hordes of distractions, you persevered. You launched yourself bravely into Week One, sailed through the churning waters of Week Two, skirted the mutinous shoals of Weeks Three and Four, and now have landed, victorious, in a place that few adventurers ever see.

We congratulate you on your hard work, salute your discipline and follow-through, and celebrate your imagination.

You did something amazing this month, novelist. We couldn’t be prouder.

I squeaked in at 50,050 words, by my count — which the NaNo site validated at 50,007. YES! Seven over is still a win! I have much more work to do on this book, and a lot of the 50K won’t make it into the final draft. But now I seriously know the direction the book should take, and know that it will take longer than a month to polish this. If it becomes a fluffy Hallmark tale, that’s ok with me, but currently, it’s very complicated with lots of literary overtones. And I might not have time to do justice to that, given the economic situation.

But for now, CELEBRATION! Pedicures! tequila! runs in the dog park! and guacamole for everyone!

Blogging has been difficult since returning from Africa. Family obligations, house cleaning and job hunting have taken precedence. However, I have to report on the painting class because so many interesting discoveries are being made.

First of all, if you are going to take a class, make sure it is in an environment that is completely comfortable to you. Check out the instructor and the studio where you will be working. This makes all the difference to me.

I’m taking a class at the community college, but it is a for-credit “concurrent” class. This means that I get a grade but I’m signed up for the non-degree seeking track. There are degree seekers, pre-four-year-college goers in our midst, and they must follow the curriculum objectives. This translates to mini-lectures and attention to serious, “real” design (color, line, composition, balance) as well as traditional techniques. It is not the place for someone who wants to learn how to paint “just like __________.” There are books and videos for that, and also specialty classes offered in other places.

The college classroom is a place I am very comfortable in, where I feel like I belong. I LOVE the studio where we are. It looks out onto the little pond in the middle of campus, there is tons of natural light and there are tons of resources including computers with Photoshop, an opaque projector and several mini-galleries of works in progress. For me, it oozes creativity, process and dialogue.

The students range from 19 to 75 (perhaps older, it’s hard to tell), and there are a number of accomplished retired folks who “have always wanted to paint.” A number of them (I think the unit of measure is “gaggle”) have signed up for the concurrent class for several semesters because it’s a great place to paint and mingle with other dabblers. They are a bit noisy, as gaggles usually are, but they bring their own coffee to share in the Mr. Coffee and someone brought donut holes yesterday. SCORE!

Where else can you get such a lively and interesting studio for about $25 a month?

The first class saw me shaking in my boots a little bit because after a brief intro, the younger instructor said, “we’re going to draw so take a lunch break, go to the store and get a sketch pad and charcoal.” I blanched. I did not sign up to draw, I signed up for painting. Valiantly, I ran to Michael’s and got the stuff, and went back and pretended to be happy about drawing the wine bottle, box and picture frame still life he had set up.

My perfectionism goes completely off the charts when it comes to drawing…. I am so unhappy with how I draw, what I draw and what it ends up looking like. So I kinda plotzed, and had to go stand in the hallway, where the other instructor was showing a Helen Van Wyk video. He talked me down a little, and said, that the course afforded one access to either instructor and either studio OR BOTH. Score. And also that the first day is when people usually say to themselves, “THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR.” Ha. Lolz.

He and I discussed painting, and in the course of that first day, I realized that I do have an aesthetic and a plan for how I want to proceed. I am not a complete and total amateur, having done photography for these past years and having quite an extensive art appreciation “vocabulary.”

I didn’t go back into the drawing session until they were done, and the instructor was doing a portrait painting demo. I realized that I needed to just slap paint on canvas and figure out what paint does and how to manipulate it. And so that’s what I’m doing, and it might take me 20 years to get it right (as long as I paint a lot). Later, my artsy sister-in-law saw my sketches and said, “ahem, you DO know how to draw, so maybe you just don’t like drawing?” Bingo.

I found a good place online to buy materials, and oils are about as cheap as acrylic these days (for the good acrylics - NOT craft paint). Blick Art Materials or Jerry’s Artarama are both good. Michael’s is a good “go-to” place for bits and pieces, but they, like Jo Ann Crafts, have a limited range of materials. And for what they charge for things like mineral spirits and linseed oil, I could take a family of four out to dinner (at my fave Mexican restaurant), so I got those things at the hardware store. I bought a tackle/tool box from Homeless Depot (I usually call it either that or Home Despot) to put everything in, and included Carmex, ibuprofin and masking tape in my tool kit. And now, it’s off to the races!

In upcoming entries, I will try to hit on some of the discoveries I’m making as I paint. But for now, one of the discoveries is I love it so much, that I don’t notice the pain in my legs and back until I have put away everything for the day. Then WHAMMO! I painted for about 10 hours yesterday, finished one little still life of some bell peppers (which is awesome in many ways and also sucks in many ways), but then the truck hit me. I had to take a hot bath and hit the sack by 10pm. Next time, focus on ergonomics as much as light and shadow.

ps I painted from a photo I’d taken, which made it so that I don’t REALLY have to draw. (Explanation of that later.)

I have returned from Africa, and I am jet-lagged, -whelmed (I pendulum between under and over on an hourly basis) with my life here, and changed.

This might shock you, or not surprise you. If it thrills you, please do write to me or comment.

I am this woman, and I am a hunter.

For the last five years, I have worked for a hunting organization. I began my shift there at “hunting-neutral,” more in an effort to feed my family and keep a roof over our heads. As for hunting, my family did it, we had guns, it was no big deal. I was never invited along. But I understood that world, and I had a contribution to make. It was a good career move.

Fast forward to Hungary last year - I was invited to hunt and I got a gold medal deer in the forest on a beautiful day. My first shot in the field as a hunter at age 49, and it was a gold medal animal. I have the PDF of my published story on this hunt, but have yet posted it. I will later, or you can ask for it if you’re interested.

I went to Africa on safari for both photos and animals. I took my father’s rifle, as is, after 35 years of inactivity, and I hunted animals on foot using all legal and ethical means of fair chase. My take was one each: blesbok, red hartebeest, blue wildebeest, kudu, gemsbok, warthog, jackel and african wildcat. The later two were at the request of the farmer who was having predation problems among his pregnant springbok and sable population.

The photos are in this Flickr photoset.

I will blog about Africa from time to time, but I will probably write about hunting in another blog as yet to be developed. This is a part of me and my life, but not necessarily part of the future mission and goals of this blog (and The Next Big Things To Come).

Hunting, in my opinion and from my research, is something that people have done for centuries for various reasons. As with any ages-old technology in our modern/post-modern age, there are permutations and developments that push the envelope of certain sensibilities, and there is an active conversation among global hunters and shooters about these issues. But it is not a black and white world, and it continues to fascinate me, as does the world of material culture (handcrafts, creativity, cooking and ‘women’s work’).

I like the fact that my very presence in the field with a gun causes some paradigm shifting and confusion to some. “A woman hunter” is still a rather novel term, but I know there are many women who hunt and don’t care two figs for what people think (this is one of the benefits of turning 50).

But Artemis and Diana, goddesses of the hunt, are both embodied as women, as goddesses. Something to ponder.

As for Africa, I left a part of me there, just as I did with Hungary and Spain. There is much to be said for world travel, but I never knew that I would be so affected and changed by meeting people and sharing such a deep connection as hunting with them. It was amazing, wonderful, awful, aweful and life-changing.

I am this woman, and I am grateful for what I’ve experienced.

There have been many many blog ideas come and go in the past few days. I cannot spend the time to do justice to any of them. I’m leaving for Africa on Monday, and my experience with international travel is that, despite global economy, it is unlikely that a Walgreen’s will be on every corner. Plus if there is a “chemist shop” or “Apotheke” or “medisyne,” things will cost a gazillion poker chips and I’ll only have the blue ones and not the required red ones. So if I want a band-aid, it’s good to have one on hand. We are also taking an emergency jar of peanut butter. If all else fails, there is some kind of bread wherever we might be stranded, or we can eat it with our fingers.

So here are those blog ideas, in raw kernel form, for the silo:
I Am This Dog: a little spiel about Lucy and how she’s fitting in. How she’s not anything like Sasha Queen of Dogs, who had a great sense of humor but was a bit standoffish. No, Lucy is more like the Elizabeth during the reign of Bloody Mary, all obsequy, compliance and sweetness, with hidden fire. However, she, like Sasha, will lick up the bathwater on the edge of the tub, and then proceed to dry your arm off as well.

Ruby Red: the magic of clicking with creative people when there are just enough ruby red martinis in the room. I attended a mediabistro.com networking party, and found immediate creative juice with people who work in my field, though not in my industry. It was quite fun, and I have some new contacts to develop as I proceed into my freelance career. (Ruby red martini = vodka and ruby red grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed, shaken and strained with a cherry.)

RTFM: I succumbed to reading the manual for my new cell phone. It’s not that I have teh dumb, it’s just that some engineer somewhere makes the decision of where to put things in the menus, and it’s NOT INTUITIVE. Please please have the person who writes the manual also help out with these menu decisions? KTHXBAI.

Hide the Stash: (No, not THAT kind of stash.) My yarn stash has been dominating the bedroom for quite some time. It’s calling to me, tempting me to start new projects, acquire new product, seek new patterns. ENOUGH. I call a HALT. The stash will be lovingly organized and labeled in bins, tucked into closets and drawers, and the works in progress will be at hand for those moments of knitting enjoyment. I run the stash, and don’t you skeins forget it!

There might be another blog post before departure, but with the list of things to do growing and things not getting crossed off, my attention must be elsewhere. I may or may not have connectivity on the journey. Either one will be good. And yes, there will be perhaps 500 to 1000 photos, if I know myself. Might even take a film camera to give the lad something to do with his hands.

People often talk about the leap of faith, and act like it is a deliberate act. What I am finding is that one realizes that one has leapt after the fact, in mid-leap when you discover there is air between you and solid ground. Sometimes it’s an airy floaty feeling. Sometimes it’s a sinking “oh shit” feeling. But the most important part of it is not the feeling after the leap, but the feelings right before that next step. And the next step. Those two things in combination - the feeling, or intention, behind the step and the step itself – determine whether or not you float and fly, or plummet and think “oh shit.” (more…)

I get an insanely huge rush getting these memes and quizzes right! Esp. when it comes to usage and words. Thing is, a couple of these are not as intuitive, as the “correct” usage is heard less often.

Another fun word nerd link that I ran across today (thanks, Emily!) is this column on copyediting from The Washington Post. It says so much to me, and the irony is thick as I leave an editing job for The Next Big Thing.

(And I’m not sure I would call myself an “English Genius.” More like a “Language Expert.” Or an “Educated Woman.” Or Someone Who Reads.)

Your result for The Commonly Confused Words Test…

English Genius

You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 100% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can’t find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don’t. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you’re not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

Take The Commonly Confused Words Test at HelloQuizzy

(30 of 50)

First of all, unless I do three entries a day, I am not going to get to 50 by next Sunday, which IS MAH BIRFDAY!!!! yay! yay! I’m not mad enough to try that, or think that it would be worth reading. But I may continue with daily entries until I indeed do have 50.

Secondly, I haven’t exactly been delving into the Deep Stuff. This birthday so far hasn’t seemed to be as momentous as 40 was. 30 was pleasant and rather sad. I was desperately unhappy at 30, and the day was made worse by an unwelcome celebration at work, if I remember correctly. In fact, it is rather funny (both in a ha-ha way and in a peculiar way) that other people assign so much meaning to one’s birthday even when you don’t. 50 is a number. When you are not yet fifty, it seems impossibly OLD. But days from 50, I feel like I’m truly in the middle of something. Not old. In the middle. Busy. Occupied. Booked up.

My creativity has been dampened this week. I’ve felt it sort of lying there in a wet little puddle in the corner, occasionally whimpering and sighing, “Oh please, let’s do something with paint. Or fabric. Yes, with fabric.” And then it slumps down again, just wistful and Edwardian and all want and no have.

I know that by directing some energy over toward that corner, that things will start to flow again. I know that ideas and experiments will be there when I am ready. During our recent trip to see the Prince Caspian movie in the Narnia Chronicles, I found myself drifting off the storyline (some would argue, “what storyline?”) and noticing the clothes. I wanted to remember how the clothes were constructed so I could make myself some cool period clothes, and my son a puffy shirt that looks very masculine and royal. I also have decided to make a mask like the helmets that the Telmarines wore (think Spaniard conquistadors).

The flow is there, when I want to release it. For writing, it’s much much easier, both because the medium is so simple (word processor, blog, keyboard - just start putting words down) and because it’s my preferred and oldest practice. But I also know that when I open some Sculpey, sit down with scissors and cloth, or pick up knitting, the same process is there. With some variations, but it’s there for me when I seek it. That’s one very very nice thing about 50. My creative process is a known quantity, an ever-evolving entity that I’m smack in the middle of.

For you, gentle reader, think today of ebb and flow. How would you map your process? Start in the middle with a work in progress. If you unravel time, where was the inspiration for that item? where were the ebbs and where is the flow? Did you find a flow, or was there something in the way?

It’s Sunday, and for me, I hope it rains because that will be loads of quiet “boring” time inside with books, fabric, yarn and ideas. (The border collie disagrees with me. She must go RUN!)

(27 of 50) (not to be confused with Greta Thragnusdottir’s magnum opus - a much later but fragmented text which is considered to be the first Icelandic historical romance)

I suppose it is time to begin the story about how I discovered these Icelandic texts. I had always meant to reveal them in appropriate academic channels, but since I am no longer an academic, I can perhaps allow myself a little leeway. The problem is, however, the only other person in the Universe who ever expressed any interest in these important works was my father, and he has now passed on. In fact, if you look at the Moultrie (Georgia) High School Library check-out card for 1935-36, you will see only his signature (and one overdue fine).

Thragnussen was lesser known. Ok, he was unknown until his eddas were discovered in the 19th C. by a sheepherder, and documented by a fellow from the British Museum who had traveled to Iceland for the hákari, which he believed to be a cure for toe fungus.

(I’m sorry. I’ve run out of time tonight to finish this truly fascinating and little known story from literary history. More soon.)

(11 of 50)

There’s such a thing as just chillin’ and hanging out and goofing off. There’s another thing that I have discovered, which I’ll call creative down time for lack of a better term.

After working hard on a paper, a set of prints in the darkroom or a detailed fiddly bit of knitting, I have often pushed back in desperation and just gone to take a shower, make a cup of tea, go in another room, or throw the tennis ball for the dog.

Invariably, though it’s never really fully intentional, I come up with a solution to the fiddly problem I was pondering and not getting anywhere with… sometimes, it comes out of the clear blue sky, sometimes it all seems to be worked out when I get back to the keyboard, the books, the knitting. If I take a break <i>in order to find a solution</i>, then my monkey mind will start flinging poo and acting very very badly. No, I have to tell myself that I am taking a REAL break because I’m sick and tired of the project.

I have built this into my writing process, usually by allowing myself plenty of time during the working phase and at the end, right up to the deadline. If I allow myself an extra day, or two hours in the morning of a due date, then I can sleep on it and do a final revision.

And it just happened today while I was throwing together an iMovie (which is what I use instead of PowerPoint these days). I finally got all my images together and scored, and now I am counting on a good night’s sleep to come up with the voiceover script, which *has* to be done tomorrow in between a couple of appointments and before the (noisy) boy comes home from school.

Speaking of good night’s sleep, that’s where I’m going now!

(10 of 50)

I used to write koans when I was in graduate school. Dealing with really brainy, weighty ideas and analytical thinking all day makes you want to play with abstractions and absurdities. Here are a few.

(A koan is a brief saying or teaching. The more you think on it, the more the ideas bloom in your mind. Mine may or may not fill the bill.)

Wear red when cooking beets.

Tiger balm is kitty bane.

Practice breathing.

(this from my father) Don’t worry about what people think because they so seldom do.

(this from my astronomy prof) Put your money on gravity.

Cooperate with reality.