I Heart Cory D.

“Forget advice about finding the right atmosphere to coax your muse into the room. Forget candles, music, silence, a good chair, a cigarette, or putting the kids to sleep. It’s nice to have all your physical needs met before you write, but if you convince yourself that you can only write in a perfect world, you compound the problem of finding 20 free minutes with the problem of finding the right environment at the same time.”

It was published awhile back, but if you haven’t read Cory Doctorow on Writing in the Age of Distraction, do yourself a favor and GO THERE. Yes, you with your Second Life RSS feeds, and your OpenOffice, and IM and Facebook and cellphone; you with your candles lit and Tibetan chanting going on while you write. GO.

Thanks to Miss Erin for the reminder of this treasure.

Poetry Friday: Courage

Courage

Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace.

The soul that knows it not, knows no release

From little things.

Knows not the livid loneliness of fear

Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear

The sound of wings.

How can Life grant us boon of living, compensate

For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate

Unless we dare

The soul’s dominion? Each time we make a choice, we pay

With courage to behold resistless day

And count it fair.

— Amelia Earhart, 1927

appeared in Survey magazine

July 1, 1928 p. 60


Cross-posted at Finding Wonderland. Poetry Friday is at Mommy’s Favorite Children’s Books.

The 6888th Honored At Last!!!

It only took sixty five years, but the African American women who served in the European Theater in WWII have finally been honored at Arlington. Check it out.

I’m excited by this. I’m saddened that so many have died in the years since the war, who never knew that their country cared about their contribution, but this makes me SO HAPPY.

Coming Out of the Dark — for all 'round coolness

Happy Wednesday! I greet this day with an indecent amount of joy, since I got up at a quarter to four this morning, and wisely opted to go back to bed at seven. While I love the emerging light — it has been one long, dark and miserable winter — the return of dawn is messing up my sleeping habits. I actually got used to the sun rising at a quarter to nine!

I’m at the phase where I can only sleep four hours at a time. This is something that’s only ever happened to me here in Scotland. Can’t figure it out, but at least today I actually managed to go back to sleep for three hours.

The real reason for my glee is that there’s much good writing going on. In fact, the inestimable author of Monster Blood Tattoo and Lamplighter reports a finish on the first draft of the third tome of magnificence. Callooh! Callay!

The weekly Poetry Stretch, which is the provenance of the Poetry Princess at The Miss Rumphius Effect, has made me a wee bit envious. Living here in the UK as I do most of the time (except for those happy four week visits to sunny California), I realize I’m in a culture and place where people are much more in touch with dead languages — my friend Gem says most British people know a bit, despite the fact that she didn’t take it in school either. My high school didn’t even offer it as an option, aiming instead for the traditional trio of Spanish, German, and French — so I really love the Latin poem I’ve found. I might try my hand at the macaronic verse form… especially as I am… nine and nine-tenths done with my novel. Yay for me! A final read-through today and we’ll see! Thank GOD. It’s been a looong haul this winter for sure.

Also, I have been contacted very nicely by the people at the Junior Library Guild, who will be including a review of MARE’S WAR and a microscopic (the best kind) picture of me in their Spring catalog. I am very pleased!

The crocuses are suddenly visible, and there are daffodil shoots in the park at last. What good things are going on with you?

Coming Out of the Dark — for all ’round coolness

Happy Wednesday! I greet this day with an indecent amount of joy, since I got up at a quarter to four this morning, and wisely opted to go back to bed at seven. While I love the emerging light — it has been one long, dark and miserable winter — the return of dawn is messing up my sleeping habits. I actually got used to the sun rising at a quarter to nine!

I’m at the phase where I can only sleep four hours at a time. This is something that’s only ever happened to me here in Scotland. Can’t figure it out, but at least today I actually managed to go back to sleep for three hours.

The real reason for my glee is that there’s much good writing going on. In fact, the inestimable author of Monster Blood Tattoo and Lamplighter reports a finish on the first draft of the third tome of magnificence. Callooh! Callay!

The weekly Poetry Stretch, which is the provenance of the Poetry Princess at The Miss Rumphius Effect, has made me a wee bit envious. Living here in the UK as I do most of the time (except for those happy four week visits to sunny California), I realize I’m in a culture and place where people are much more in touch with dead languages — my friend Gem says most British people know a bit, despite the fact that she didn’t take it in school either. My high school didn’t even offer it as an option, aiming instead for the traditional trio of Spanish, German, and French — so I really love the Latin poem I’ve found. I might try my hand at the macaronic verse form… especially as I am… nine and nine-tenths done with my novel. Yay for me! A final read-through today and we’ll see! Thank GOD. It’s been a looong haul this winter for sure.

Also, I have been contacted very nicely by the people at the Junior Library Guild, who will be including a review of MARE’S WAR and a microscopic (the best kind) picture of me in their Spring catalog. I am very pleased!

The crocuses are suddenly visible, and there are daffodil shoots in the park at last. What good things are going on with you?

Weekenders

Happy Weekend! May yours be filled with sleep and choice reading selections!



The Literary Ventures Fund is a group of people who invest in an author’s book. They don’t loan authors money — which has a contractual obligation for a payback, nor do they give grants — which is money without any obligation whatsoever. They invest in an author and share the risks of publishing. Read more in this months Poets&Writers.


Book Moot has made me laugh out loud today. Her post begins as a pleasant review of My Dance Recital, by Maryann Cooca-Leffler, and she describes it as a great introduction to dance to young readers, with its cute open-to-reveal flaps, and whimsical illustrations. Then she launches into an hilarious Word to the Audience Members rant that had me hooting. Book Moot has a Nancy Perl Librarian ACTION figure, and she’s not afraid to take action on those rude and obnoxious theater goers and parents.

If necessary I can aim, with frightening accuracy, a neutron bomb of a hush. You will be stunned by the concussion while your surroundings remain intact. I have rarely had to deploy to this level but I have the ability and if necessary, I will use it.

A neutron bomb of hush. How much do I love that?


You may now begin to call me Super Bookseller Sleuth. I played the “Stump the Bookseller” game with Parker at The Spectacle, and surprised myself by thinking I was stumped when I wasn’t. More fun: now I get to pick the next clue. Heh, heh. I already have the book in mind…

Check out what chefs do in their spare time — possibly Lainey could take some tips — and have a fantastic rest-of-the-weekend!

Poetry Friday: St. Elsewhere

To my personal chagrin, I’ve never read much by John Updike; I think once or twice at school we were required to read a paragraph here or there, but I never got into reading his prose, mainly because life has been crammed with such stories that I haven’t yet had time. The poetry of Mr. Updike, though — I’ve read some of that, and with its economy of words, poignancy and ephemeral beauty. This is my very favorite.


Religious Consolation

– by John Updike

One size fits all. The shape or coloration

of the god or high heaven matters less

than that there is one, somehow, somewhere, hearing

the hasty prayer and chalking up the mite

the widow brings to the temple. A child

alone with horrid verities cries out

for there to be a limit, a warm wall

whose stones give back an answer, however faint.

Strange, the extravagance of it—who needs

those eighteen-armed black Kalis, those musty saints

whose bones and bleeding wounds appall good taste,

those joss sticks, houris, gilded Buddhas, books

Moroni etched in tedious detail?

We do; we need more worlds. This one will fail.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. May you find a world that provides you warm walls, limits, answers — what it is that you need.

Poetry Friday is being hosted by the holly and the ivy.

Alas For Poor Ennis…

I’m pretty sure it was wrong of me to laugh RIGHT. OUT. LOUD at poor Ennis and his sadly emo poetry, but Kristopher wrote one of the funniest pieces on writing scams ever at GuysLitWire, and I’m especially amused to be introduced to the Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest. Yes, it’s as goofy as the goofy sounding name. Members of the Scotland branch of SCBWI, as a joke, did something like that when they pitched the worst plot ideas they could think of to a vanity publisher — and of course were welcomed with open arms and told that they had won entrance into the press’s upcoming anthology. While funny, it’s also a bit sad, as some people feel this is the only way they’ll ever get published.

This is me, here to tell you: it’s not true!