This is going to be a particularly personal post. This semester has been more than a little overwhelming for me, I move about in a city I don’t know so well and don’t know too many people inside it. I’m struggling but not depressed. I’m lonely and simultaneously elevated in my love for what I’m doing. I just applied to Grad school, will be applying for assistanceship, and get along with classmates and professors just fine (if a little over exuberant and puppy-like sometimes). I just handed in three essays, a blog post, an abstract, and read nearly four books in the past week. I have a presentation tomorrow. I have two essays due the week after break, two more books to read, a proposal to write. I am happy here. This finally feels like me. I am not happy here; I have no friends inside my bubble.
I haven’t written on my novel in nearly a month. Continue reading
Good afternoon, WordPress friends!
For anyone interested in assisting me: if the world ended, and you had a way of cataloguing important people who died, and where, who would you include? I’m gathering a list to add to my novel Corpus Paradisum.
This is an homage to Ezra Pound’s Cantos, and how he catalogued all the artistic potential lost in World War I. Any help is greatly appreciated!
(I imagine Yes is the only living thing ~ EE Cummings)
I recently read a Twitter post from a pro-tip wielding writer (by the name of Delilah S. Dawson), and did a little bit of research on what she referred to (that bit o’ info is a blog I’m subscribed to, filled with extremely helpful information. I recommend you subscribe to him as well. WARNING: offensive language used on that site) concerning “Story Structure.” That link is far more succinct than anything I could say about it, so I won’t say a whole lot more about it beyond anecdotal evidence.
After slogging through disconnect and diabetic infirmary, I woke with my words wrapped snugly around me. I endeavored to write a difficult passage, and found it exactly what I sought.
I wanted to share!
Quick backstory: Susursal is trapped in dream-wanderings, and having just escaped a nightmare scenario where he was forced to live two mundane lives of gardening and housecleaning for what he perceives as “hundreds of years,” he’s wandering the ruins of his ancestral memory.
He has two gods: God and Lalatu, a Hecate-esque god of possibility that lives on the moon. Ineluctable Man is a representation of many things; his failings, his shadow self, a mythological Everyman, an outside influence that he has brought in, or childhood sleep paralysis issues. Continue reading
Note: This blog post is my effort to incorporate the “Discourse Analysis” (by James Paul Gee) into a real life encounter. Be forewarned: this might be boring.
I recently had the good fortune to sit in on a “Healthy Self Reset” Facebook page, where a pair of healthy eaters (and knowledgable people; from here on out referenced as “teachers”) gave information on how to eat and be properly active over a month, and was intended for poor eaters who needed a healthy reset after the holidays/help with resolutions, etc. It was cool. The teachers emailed those on the list with a recipe setup for the week, complete with meals, snacks, etc, and ways to improve on life.
I’m not the best eater. I have diabetes from poor choices (and ignorance) from earlier in life. I eat WAY better than a lot of people in this country (America), but I definitely don’t eat as well as some.
I mean, it is. I know lots of people with day jobs as picture framers and teachers and professors at universities who go home, write about their experiences, and only write in that bubble. Separate from the writing world at large. People do that. Lots of people do that.
The act of touching keyboard or pen is definitely a solo endeavor. And if that’s all you want out of it, that’s all you need.
But even Malcolm X, in prison, didn’t write alone. He wrote in a group. The idea of an incarcerated man, sitting in a cell with a pencil and legal pad and a few books, plugging away at some idea, lost in a vacuum of solitary, and not solidarity, probably sits in a lot of people’s heads. There’s a stigma attached to writing. Google “writer,” look at the images. It’ll show you this stigma. One person. Alone in a room. With birds or some sparkly pixie dust floating out of his hipster typewriter. Usually male. Usually white. Usually synonymous with the idea of reading; casual, inspired, brilliant, freeing.
All the way bs.
I’ve definitely written about this before. Yet I’ve seen Denzel Washington talk about the exact same discussion points on technology that’re being discussed in my classes, and I find solace in knowing this isn’t some College-level talking point. He says, on at least two interviews, what do you do with too much information?
I am a writer. I write. This semester has been intense and leaves me little time to breathe deep, so as per how I live my life, my writing priority is fourth under schoolwork, making food, and staving off insanity by staring at political insanity. Apologies for not being around much. I’m learning about rhetoric, learning about sociolinguistics, and online publishing. Continue reading