On writing

I've always considered myself a fairly decent writer. I've always gotten good grades for and compliments on my writing. But lately I question whether I've retained any of that skill. I read certain people's blogs and think, "I can't write like that." "Look at that, it would take me so much effort to produce something even half that good." Of course, I have to step back and remind myself the person in question might very well have slaved over that piece for days and not just pulled it from thin air.

Often I over-think my writing. I'm a perfectionist, and am anal about word-crafting (blog posts not withstanding), so I write, read, edit, read, edit...ad infinitum, and as a result never get much of anywhere anymore. When I was in college, I had deadlines, of course, so only a certain amount of that cycle could take place; my work was probably the better for it. In my fiction, of course, that read-edit cycle (is that the Krebs Cycle of literature, I wonder?) takes place because so much time elapses between work sessions that I have to remember just what the heck I wrote last time. I end up with some interesting continuity errors otherwise.

I'm no particular fan of Stephen King's, horror is not my thing (I've read Eyes of the Dragon and it was fairly good, but has a bit too many references to boogers for my taste); but I've been thinking about this particular post lately. There are a couple of items on the list with which I disagree, more from a personal standpoint than in theory. For instance:

Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. There are no exceptions to this rule.

I see what he's trying to say there, but if you find yourself repeating the same word over and over, sometimes you just want a slightly different way to say it. I don't use a thesaurus to find a fancy way to say it, but to verify that a given word will have the same connotation I think it does. On the other hand, perhaps what he's trying to say is, "If you're repeating that word over and over, perhaps it's not the word that's the problem."  Hmm. 

I am always chilled and astonished by the would-be writers who ask me for advice and admit, quite blithely, that they 'don't have time to read.' this is like a guy starting up Mount Everest saying that he didn't have time to buy any rope or pitons.

I am always a bit baffled by this, too. I suppose the best excuse would be that if you haven't read something in your own genre, one could hardly accuse you of plagiarism if you happen to write pretty much what someone else has already written. Of course, convincing the court of this might be tricky. Reading not only spawns ideas (not ideas to steal, but new scenarios, or different ways of tackling a character or metaphysics in your fictional world, for instance), but also gives you a sense of what good—and bad—writing is. 

This ties in with number 12:

Good description is a learned skill, one of the prime reasons why you cannot succeed unless you read a lot and write a lot. It's not just a question of how-to, you see; it's also a question of how much to. Reading will help you answer how much, and only reams of writing will help you with the how. You can learn only by doing. 

In this I believe he's right. Which brings me back to my original question: have I retained my writing skills? Yes, but it's like my drawing, it will only come out with exercise.

A little doodle

Awhile back, April 22, to be exact, I was bored out of my gourd in staff meeting--a weekly ritual the Air Force must perform, even though I'm sure it leads to the death by boredom of more than a few every year...so was doodling and came up with this

and colored it with pencils I had at work. It stayed in my agenda for a while, then I pasted it in my daily art journal (which isn't so daily, but I digress...), and it stayed there for a while longer.

Then, Jennibellie sent me a little packet of embellishments which I have dubbed Jennibellishments...and there were these tiny little flowers to punch out (upper left)...and that started the whole page.

Mixed media: colored pencil sketch, Caran d'Ache Neocolor II, pattern paper, Jennibellishments, brads, glitter glue, K & company dragonfly die cut, homemade "washi" tape, gold metallic Sharpie®, Uni-ball Vision Needle pen 

Art Journal: Stars tell us the past. Listen.

6 x 8,25" Mixed media. Dictionary page, acrylic, die cuts from Jennibellie, Tim Holtz "Curious Possibility" stamps, Caran d'Ache Neocolor II, Uni-ball Vision Needle pen.

We’ve been dyin’ since we were born,

All fallin’ ‘round us,

A one-way street to decline...

Sometimes I hear the trees,

Listen to the mountains breathe,

Gentle breath, rockin’ time with discord….

Is there a mountain top left for me?

Is there a valley so deep I can’t see the sky?

I could sleep now, close my eyes and never wake…

© N. Bradford-Reid 2013

The Ultimate American Tragedy

I sit here, wondering if I'm the only American who feels the way I do about the "Marathon Bombing." Surely there must be others who, when they look at that kid, the surviving bomber, get a deep and profound sense of sadness.

Up front, I'd like to make it clear in no way do I condone or sympathize with the acts of terror committed by the Tsarnaev brothers. Violence is rarely the answer to anything (some would say never).  But what occurs to me is that this is the ultimate American tragedy, even more so, if possible, than 9-11. The acts on 9-11 were far more horrendous, many more people died or were permanently affected. The "body count," if you will, was much higher. "Only" three were killed in Boston, four if you include the MIT policeman, of course; nearly 200 injured—some grievously and horrifically--and there was certainly trauma.

But the difference is that the perpetrators of 9-11 were part of a much larger plot to commit acts of evil and mayhem; they came to this country for the express purpose of committing this heinous act.  The brothers who carried out the "Marathon Bombing" were products of a dream gone horribly wrong.

The Tsarnaev family came to the US, escaping the violence in Chechnya. They seemed to have given their kids a great start, education at top schools, opportunities to succeed, to interact. And from all appearances, they were doing okay. The dream of immigrating to the US seemed to be working. But something was wrong in paradise. The older brother, who was a teenager when they came here, felt he was an outsider, and that's entirely possible. Americans—like people everywhere—can be right jerks when it comes to welcoming outsiders. I know this quite well from personal experience, and I was born in the US, my roots go back to before the American Revolution in this country. A *am* an American through and through, and yet so many times was made to feel unwanted and disliked. After a while, I developed a shell and just didn't try to fit in anymore.

With the internet and social media, I can imagine the older brother communicating with other displaced Chechens, forming strong opinions, reinforcing that feeling of hate and being hated. The younger brother, looking up to the older sibling, fell right into it. The acts they committed were inexcusable, but I can empathize with the feeling of outside-ness.

When I look at that face, I don't see the face of an evil mastermind, I see a kid....who was bleeding, terrified, and hunted. His face reminds me of my own son, only three years younger, and I can only feel astounding sadness that this kid felt so alone that it came to this. He will most likely be tried and executed; but some beautiful, youthfully innocent part of him was already dead.

Life is what you make of it and as Jim Wright pointed out, and as I have pointed out to many people, there are so many niches in a country like ours, that all it takes is looking. It's a pity the Tsarnaevs didn't keep looking. A pity for Boston, a pity for the US, and a pity for a 19 year-old whose life ended when he dropped that backpack. I guess it all seemed so simple to him at that point.

Art update

Went and had a coffee and long chat with one of my best friends last night. She's an author (her fourth fiction novel comes out in 11 days!) and fellow artist and journaler. She had a whole bag of crafty stuff she was getting rid of, and of course...I had to take all of it. A really nice sketchbook, some blank books, beads, a couple of canvas boards that were painted on by her gran, but discarded, so they're ready to be new pictures or maybe journal covers, blank ATCs, all sorts of little paper-crafty paper bits and journal cards, most of a package of shrinky plastic sheets, and a full half-pint bottle of Liquitex liquid matte medium. Woot!

I found a place thru Amazon to order a Ranger Inkssentials Craft Sheet for only $3.20 plus S&H. It came right away but when I first opened it, I thought I'd gotten ripped off. I was expecting something more like the silpat baking sheet. This is thin, and kind of cheesy feeling. So...I went out and watched a video* about it and realized I had the right thing. But...it came just rolled up in a shipping tube, with no box or instructions, so with more research, I realized what this place is doing. They're buying this from the Ranger company, cutting it up into 15 x 18 inch pieces and reselling it. Clever. And...for less than half of what it would cost you if you bought the packaged one at retail.

*Caution: Valley Girl accent warning label.

So, I will be trying that out soon and letting you know if it's as wonderful as everyone touts.