Can Anybody See This?

Hmmm. . . all that work and my brand new titles aren't even showing up. I shall investigate and see if I can fix the problem.

Edit: All fixed now. Needed to add some code to my template.

To School or Not To School

Okay, so my title's a cliché. But there are two reasons I've been thinking lately about giving this blog more focus. The first is this post from Language Log, on why the world needs more scholarly weblogs. I realized that the blogs I most enjoy are ones that have a specific topic. So I know if I want to read about books, I go to Bookslut; if I want to read about comics, I go to Journalista, or Grotesque Anatomy; if If I want to read writers' takes on the world, I'll head for Neil Gaiman's journal, or Caitlín R. Kiernan's, or Poppy Z. Brite's.

The second reason I've been thiking about focussing the blog, is that I'm considering going back to school. "Eek! Not again!" everyone shrieks. Well, I don't have a PhD yet, and I'm in that career limbo where I'm overeducated for most jobs, and not educated enough for the really good jobs. And I'm finally beginning to face the fact that even if I'm going to be a great writer, I still need a job. At least in the meantime.

As far as I can figure, I've got three choices for school:

1. MA in Archaeology (possibly in an Anthropology department), followed by a PhD
   
2. MFA in Writing (possibly in an English department), followed by trying to find a job (I don't think there are any schools offering a PhD in Writing, even through an English department, though I could be wrong)
   
3. PhD in Folklore (probably at Memorial)
   

They've all got their attractions. I'd love to do some more archaeology fieldwork, and the only way I'm likely to do that is to back to school. Or move to Alberta and volunteer at a site. I'd also love to have a few more years in school where all I have to do is write. But then again, I periodically get the urge to do actual scholarship, and most of the topics I come up with are at least related to folklore. Some of them would also work in an English department, but I really don't have the background to get into an English PhD program (I tried at U-Vic), and maybe not even into an MA program.

So that leaves folklore, probably. The question then is what topic? Although I won't have to actually choose a thesis topic right away, an application isn't much good without a really good probable/possible focus of research to make those who read applications think, "Hey, this one really knows what she wants to do!" Anyway, topics I've been considering are:

• Folklore in literature. This is the topic I proposed for my failed PhD in English application. Something about the use of folklore in contemporary interstitial fiction. I also want to investigate the possibility that writers in exile or in cultural diasporas are more likely to use folklore than those firmly situated in a culture. Also writers who feel detached from culture and are looking to belong (I think this is one reason I tend to get so folkloric in my writing).
  
• Fairies in fantasy fiction. I've kinda been tossing this idea around for a long time. I gave a conference paper on fairies in Charles de Lint's fiction while I was a Master's student at MUN. It was fun, but I don't know if I could get a whole PhD out of it. Or one that really said anything new. The previous topic would work much better for that, as interstitial fiction is a relatively new (or rather, newly-named) category, so not much has been written on it yet.
  
• Fairies and UFOs. Again, I don't know if there's enough in this topic for a whole thesis, but it's fascinating how many of the characteristics of fairy folklore--especially that surrounding abduction--have been co-opted by UFO folklore (again, especially abduction). I just read an article in a recent back issue of Skeptical Inquirer about UFO landing sites. They're the very same rings (mostly circles on turf caused by various fungi) that were once know as fairy rings. This is worth a good long article, at least.
  
• Folklore of archaeology. I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately (hence, also, some of the changes I made to the blog). Basically, I'd start with a survey of some of the folklore associated with archaeological sites (lots of fairies and buried treasure), working up to crackpot archaeology (oops, I mean fantastic archaeology, or is it alternate archaeology?). Then I'd survey some undergrads to see what sort of crackpot things they believe (I'm thinking first and second year students in archaeology and folklore courses to lead into the last thing). Finally, I'd look at the different attitudes to fantastic archaeology expressed by folklorists and archaeologists.
  

It might be evident from what I've written that I'm currently leaning towards the last topic. I really, really like the first one, too, though. Anyway, I have a while to decide, as it's too late to apply to most universities for September entry, and not too many places have January start dates for grad students. But, y'know, the one thing I'm actually good at (besides writing, and maybe that's a happy delusion) is scholarship. (Some days I think I should've gone into the sciences.)

Changes

I thought it was about time this blog had a little more focus. I started it to make a sort of public record of my writing progress, on the principle that maybe I'd write more if it was possible for other people to check up on me. That's still my main reason for blogging, so "writing" gets to stay first in the description.

But beyond that, I have a tendency to just babble about whatever seems important at the time. Not that I'll stop doing that, either, but at least it'll be more organized. Hence the titles that shall appear at the top of posts from this day forward, etc, etc. So just in case someone who is not a friend or family member encounters this thing, they can easily find whatever topic it was brought them here. If that even makes sense.

In an effort to further focus my usual randomness, I've stuck some of the things I'm most interested in in the description (that's the bit under the title). Probably I'll reword said description so it's more attractive and pleasant to read. Books and comics are still there of course, but there are much better blogs for getting book and comic news. And I've added folklore and archaeology, which are the things I have degrees in (aside from writing). I've linked folklore and archaeology things before, so that's not so much of a change, though I haven't found any good folklore blogs yet, so that may be something I'll make an effort to blog more. For archaeology, a good place to look is Phluzein.

I've added "crackpot science" (might change that to "pseudoscience"), because it fascinates me, and because it--at least the "fantastic archaeology" part of it--occurs at the intersection of archaeology and folklore. And how pseudoscience is done is at least partly the concern of writing. So it's an ideal topic for me to focus on really. So that's what Niko Blathers On will be about: writing and crackpot archaeology, with a fair bit of real archaeology and folklore, plus some stuff about books and comics and the odd descent into whatever odd topic seems like a good idea at the time. Hmm . . . Maybe I should put that in my description. Not right now though, I need to get the dog outside before he starts to complain, and go get the mail.

This looks really cool: Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (title's a bit silly, but suitably retro). (Link via Sarah Dyer.)

I just drafted an article (actually more of a personal essay) called "How Environmental Responsibility Led Me to Secular Humanism," except I probably won't call it that. It's too late to submit it to Humanist in Canada for the spring issue on Environmental Ethics, but I might submit it anyway. Especially once I find a better title.

I'm also working on turning my noonhour talk, "Fantastic Archaeology in 10 Easy Steps," into an article. It's made a little difficult by the fact that I can't find a copy of the talk, or even my notes. I do have an old undergrad paper I wrote on pseudscience in archaeology, and it has a few bits I scribbled on it when I first thought of doing the talk, but it isn't much. Luckily, I remember a lot. It was a fun talk. If the article turns out any good, I'll try sending it to Skeptical Inquirer. Yes, I'm on a debunking kick again. Maybe this would be a good time to work on Bunk. Except that's not in my resolutions, while two other novels-in-progress are. And a book-of-interconnected-shortstories-in-progress. And a novel that needs revising.

This is what happens to archaeologists when building (and paving) techniques stay the same over really long periods of time. (Link via Neil Gaiman.)

Pholph's Scrabble Generator My Scrabble? Score is: 20. What is your score? Get it here.

(Link via Pen-Elayne.)

Just had my thumb wrenched by an over-enthusiastic dog (not mine) and now my wrist really hurts. At least it was my left hand, so most fuctions are normal (typing a little awkward, though). Poor me.

The most exciting things to happen recently were a winter wren (I think) landing on my office window screen (in almost the same spot a flicker landed a few months ago). Drove my cat batty. And I identified a bird I hadn't seen before (or if I had, I didn't realize it): rufous-sided towhee. We have several of them, male and female, vying with the juncos (which are about half their size) for space at the feeder next door at Gramma's. There are more birds here than anywhere I've lived in Southern Vancouver Island (and possibly anywhere I've lived, period, except Virginia Beach). Oh yeah, and I finally heard the owls the other night when I took Darwin out.

AS Byatt on the lure of the fairy tale. (Link via Neil Gaiman.)

Richard Dawkins on science and religion:

My suggestion is that you won't find any intelligent person who feels the need for the supernatural. What you will find is the need for a sense of transcendent wonder, which I share as well.

I finally saw Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl on DVD last night. Johnny Depp makes a fine skanky pirate captain. I just want to know how someone can be icky and sexy at the same time. Shiver. I think this is my new favourite movie.

'Tis the season for top ten lists. The top five reasons I'm not doing any top ten lists are:

The top ten books I read this year were not published in 2003. Well, one might have been. I could go and look but I'm too lazy.

The top ten comics I read this year were mostly collected editions of stuff not published in 2003. Except 1602, but it's not finished yet, so how can I comment?

The top ten songs I listened to were not released in 2003. In fact, I don't think any of them were even released in this decade. Shows you how well I keep up with pop culture.

I didn't watch ten new TV shows in 2003, or even ten TV shows that had new episodes in 2003.

I can't think of anything else that would make a remotely interesting top ten list.

I will, however, make a few resolutions.

This year, I will revise The Secret Common-Wealth (that's January's project).

I will finish writing White Foxes, Full Moon.

I will finish writing Vinland Stories.

I will complete at least three more issues of Fey.

I will send out more stories.

I will revise Fox Point Dragon and send it to publishers.

I will revise Jenny's Troll and send it to publishers.

I will work very hard on Three Sisters.

I will look for an agent.

I will occasionally go outside to remind myself that there is a world.

I think that's enough for one year. Check back at the end of 2004 and see how I did.

Meanwhile, in reading land, I am enjoying Sherlock Holmes immensely. I finished The Sign of Four. Like in A Study in Scarlet, Doyle takes great pains to explain his culprit's motivations. Also, the culprit was wronged and seeking revenge, though this time he was already a murderer and a thief when he was double-crossed. I'm now in the thick of the short stories in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Did you know Holmes was outsmarted by a woman? I get the impression that Doyle had a rather higher opinion of women that many men of his day (but I could be reading things that aren't there).

". . . for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination." ~Holmes to Watson in "The Red-headed League"

Truth is stranger than fiction, in other words. This same idea is repeated later in the story, in a more complex manner. This is one thing I've always tried to impress on my students when I get the chance to teach (and one thing they often don't believe right away). I even wrote an article on it.

I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque. ~Dr Watson in "The Red-headed League"

Belief-O-Matic: " Even if YOU don't know what faith you are, Belief-O-Matic™ knows." Apparently, I ought to be a Unitarian Universalist (you can believe pretty much anything and still be one, it seems), or maybe a Secular Humanist. Or maybe even a Liberal Quaker (must be due to the nonviolence question). I think I like Secular Humanism. So for my New Year's resolution this year . . . (Link via Pen-Elayne.)

New Year's Superstitions.

So I'm now on cold number three of the winter. Bleah. Double bleah. Usually I get one cold a year, if that. Not happy, but at least it's not as snotty or even as head-stuffy as the last two. Now to play Amerzone.

My Inner Hero - Wizard!





There are many types of magic, but all require a sharp mind and a cool head. There is no puzzle I can't solve, no problem I can't think my way out of. When you feel confused or uncertain, you can always rely on me to untangle the knots and put everything back in order for you.



How about you? Click here to find your own inner hero.

Making Light: Varieties of insanity known to affect authors.

The tendonitis is gone, replaced by a dull ache which is mostly ignorable. Rowena suggested I brought it all on myself playing video games. Actually, I think it was from slinging around heavy boxes of books. But the video games probably didn't help.

I got inspired, the other day, by an article on chapbooks I wrote for Creative Writing for Teens (I really need to get a new photo taken). I dragged out a novel I'd written bits of for Jack Hodgins' novel writing class. I'm not sure why I chose it, but it seemed to make sense. Something about gifts and it being that season, I suppose. Anyway, I pulled together some bits and wrote some more bits, and am generally happy with what I've got. Nine of the bits I stuck together in PageMaker, and now I'll have a holiday chapbook to give everyone instead of the usual "Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, etc, etc" card I sometimes send out. Stole the idea from Charles deLint (the chapbook-for-the-holidays thing). I've done it a few times in the past--I even used some of my awful poetry once. It's fun. Everyone should do it. Anyway, those of you who are far away will get yours eventually (not that I have that many people to send it to).

And, even more useful to current writing projects, I got an idea for a story for Vinland Stories (or whatever it ends up being called) that has nothing to do with the sea. It's very much a sky story. Has dragons in. I'm not sure how dragons got into these stories. Actually, that's not true. It happened when I decided to write a children's story (which became part of a chapter book) called "Dragon's Egg" and set it in Ravenswing (a village downcoast of Cobbleshore). That was followed by "Fox Point Dragon"; those two stories became the book Fox Point Dragon (which, come to think of it, could really use to be revised again and sent out to many, many publishers). Then White Foxes, Full Moon turned out to have a dragon in it (or will have, when I get that far). The Fox Point dragon will turn up, too, though maybe only as a mention. So now Vinland has dragons. I think the story is called "Where the Sky is Full of Dragons," but that could change by the time it's actually written. After all, "Hollow Bones" has had several titles ("A Gift of Bones and Motley Feathers," "Bird Bones and Feathers," almost "Bones and Feathers," "Bird Bones," and "Hollow Bones"--or maybe it's one title reworked until it's more or less right).

Getting behind on my blogging, I am. I started my quest to read all things alluded to in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with Sherlock Holmes. I've read some before, but never worked my way through the whole canon, and said quest seemed like a worthy excuse. The connection with League is that Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's big brother, is a character, though not a major one. Also the Sherlock Holmes/Professor Moriarty rivalry is mentioned. I'm reading a massive Bantam edition of the complete novels and stories. It's in two volumes and I only have volume one, but the 900+ pages should keep me busy for a while. I've already got through A Study in Scarlet which is kind of like two books in one--the usual Sherlock Holmes reconstructing crimes through clues thing, and an odd anti-Mormon western (the murderer's backstory). Got no problem with the anti-Mormonism (ever read the Book of Mormon? Very weird stuff) but the sudden switch between stories was a little jarring, even though it was the only way to tell the whole story without giving away the killer's motives (and identity) from the beginning. And, for some reason, I'm always surprised when literature of this age is so easy to read. I always expect it to be difficult. Dracula struck me the same way. And it's not like I've never read Doyle before.

And something occurred to me while I was thinking about Sir Arthur. I've read a lot of stuff about fairies (big surprise), and Doyle was a big supporter of the reality of the Cottingley fairies. What I thought was odd is that most commentators speculating on why Doyle believed in fairies mention his involvement with Spiritualism. I don't think I've ever seen anyone say that maybe Sir Arthur believed in fairies because his dad did. Both Charles Altamont Doyle (his father) and Richard "Dickie" Doyle (his uncle) were well-known fairy painters, and both were institutionalized (Charles Altamont, at least, was probably not insane, just a little odd. And he believed in fairies). Anyway, just a thing I thought of. Now I'll probably find that everything I read about Doyle and fairies mentions his father and his uncle and relates his belief to theirs. Oh well.

Things Creationists Hate. (Link via Making Light.)

Happy Winter Solstice! Here's last year's very, very cool Astronomy Picture of the Day.

A while back, Jessa Crispin of Bookslut (I think that's who it was) commented that people reviewing the movie The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (crappy movie, from what I've read, but the comic is excellent) kept spelling "Quatermain" wrong, inserting an extra "r." It's easy enough to do (I've probably done it myself), but kind of sloppy when you're writing something for publication. Well, the other day I was arranging some books on the shelf, and I noticed that my old falling-apart Avon Edition copy of Allan Quatermain had that very typo on the cover. It says Allan Quartermain, extra "r" and all. On the inside pages, it's spelled correctly, though. It amused me.

But then I was thinking about the book again, and I went and got it off the shelf to flip through. And I realized that I've never actually read it. Or at least I don't remember reading it. I saw the abysmal Richard Chamberlain movie. I've read She and Ayesha and even Eric Brighteyes (more than once), but somehow I never got to Allan Quatermain. Unless I read it and don't remember, which is possible. So then I got the bright idea that I should read all the books alluded to in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (the comic, that is), starting with the ones from which the main characters came. So I began to make a list.

I soon realized that this was going to be a big list. I consulted Ye Olde Internet, and found some fabulous annotations by Jess Nevins (now available as a book). There's a lot of reading there. But then I really like to read.

'Course, the search led me to this site, which has annotations for lots of comics, including 1602. But I think I'll wait to go through them until I read the whole series. Then I'll have an excuse to re-read it.

Oh, I have a lot of reading to do. Yay!

My wrist is feeling much better. It only hurts when I bend it all the way, so normal writing functions have resumed. More or less.

Got tendonitis again. Hurts to type, hurts to handwrite, and I have a whole pile of stories trying to get out of my head via my poor right hand. Ouch. Must not give in to urge to play video games.

Mr Picassohead: way too much fun. Here's mine.

I'm still wasting time playing video games (Onimusha: Warlords on PS2), but have lots of thoughts about writing projects. I think, for example, that Andry narrates the whole of Cobbleshore Stories (which I think is really called Vinland Stories). Quite what that means for each individual story, I'm not yet sure (ooh, love the syntax in that sentence). I also think that White Foxes, Full Moon is probably meant to be in third person limited (the limited part switching between Maring and Watcher as needed) rather than in alternating first person. The question now is whether to go back and rewrite the bits I've already done (all fifteen chapters) and carry on from there, or switch now and rewrite the earlier chapters later, or carry on in first person until I get to the end and then rewrite (and perhaps discover that first person was the right point of view all along).

Short pause while I investigate the crash from the living room. And chase away the cat, and reassemble the Christmas tree, which is now a little wonky. Grrr . . .

There must be a better name for Christmas tree that doesn't involve religion. I'm not giving up my tree, even if the cat does take it apart bit by bit every year.

Anyway. I've other things I'm thinking about with the writing projects I'm working on, but none I can talk about here without getting into symbolism and such, which is something I think every reader should discover on their own. I know what symbols I'm finding, but it doesn't mean everyone will find the same ones. So I'll shut up.

Happy birthday, Mom!

Yay! I just finished Syberia. What a gorgeous game. A lot of people have said it was too short, but I didn't think it was all that short. Not as long and brain-busting as, say, Riven, but not nearly as short as Dracula: Resurrection. And I picked up Primal for PS2 for a measly $14.77 at Superstore, so I'll have something to procrastinate with once I get past that evil level of Scooby Doo (yeah, still working at it, almost got it but can't play for more than half an hour at a time or I get really irritated).

I took the Gender Test. It thought I was a boy. Actually, my results fell pretty nearly exactly in the middle. Weird.

Yeah, okay, King Kong has dinosaurs in it. But King Kong himself is a giant gorilla.

"Godzilla wasn't real. King Kong wasn't real. Jurassic Park wasn't real. This is. See how real dinosaurs lived . . . or didn't. Real. Big. Stories." What's wrong with this statement? Here's a hint. It's been bugging me since I first saw the commercial.

What happens when too many Mary Sues show up at Hogwarts? Pirate Monkey has the answer. (What's a Mary Sue? See Teresa Nielsen Hayden's blog post on the subject. It's where I found the link above.)

It's the mentioning of my article that's really, really cool (and also Terri Windling's novel), not the article itself.

I was just reading the "From the Editor's Desk" page over at the Endicott Studio's Journal of Mythic Arts. Terri Windling mentions my article on her novel The Wood Wife, which is really, really cool. Except she used my full name, which I never use, and she spelled my last name wrong (which is understandable, as most people in the word spell it with a 'y'). So if you're reading the letter, substitute "Niko Silvester" for "Mary Nicole Silvester" in this passage:

. . . an in-depth look at shamanism in my novel The Wood Wife, titled "The Artist as Shaman," by Mary Nicole Sylvester.

and all will be right with the world (it's waaay down near the bottom). I'm happy just to be mentioned.

I think one reason I enjoy adventure games so much is that you get to rifle through other people's stuff (even if they are fictional people). Well, there are the dreamlike qualities, the lovely graphics and the nice ambient music and the uncovering of a story and puzzles to figure out, too. But when was the last time you snuck into a church vestry, nicked a hidden key and went through the priest's drawers in real life? How often have broken into a family tomb to see if a coffin was really occupied? Or wandered around an abandoned toy factory pulling levers to see if you could get anything to work?

That would be fun, but it doesn't happen in real life. Not to me, anyway. Though I once attended a class where the teacher brought in one of his desk drawers, complete with whatever happened to be in there when he pulled it out of the desk. We passed it around the class and each took an item and tried to come up with something to say about what that item said about the owner of the drawer, and how it could be used in a creative non-fiction piece. I suspect the exercise would have been better if we didn't already know who the drawer belonged to, but where would the prof get someone else's drawer?

So what does it say about me, that I like to poke through other people's stuff? That I'm nosy, I guess. That people fascinate me (morbidly, a lot of the time). And now my friends and relatives will be afraid to have me stay over, for fear I'll snoop. But that's the real appeal of the adventure game: I'd never really go through someone's drawers. I respect people's privacy too much. You know, do unto others and all that (Eek! Am I Bible-quoting?).

Okay, I did snoop once. Extensively. But I had good reason. I will not go through your drawers if you invite me over. Honest.

Today's Earth Science Picture of the Day: Super Typhoon Lupit. Doesn't that sound like a manga or anime title?

I'm spending way too much time playing Scooby Doo: Night of 100 Frights on my PS2. I think I'd be done by now if it weren't for one really badly designed section with almost impossible jumps. I checked a walkthrough to make sure it wasn't just me being a crappy gamer.

You are gonna HATE this level, seriously. I wouldn't be surprised if many gamers actually abandoned the game at this point because of the taxing, frustrating and seemingly insurmountable difficulties that await in this level. Many of the snacks are obscured by poor camera angles, Scooby's shadow disappears, etc - really shitty game design that turns an otherwise enjoyable adventure into a headache.

Nope. Not just me. When I get too frustrated, I switch to Syberia on my PC, which is interesting and fun and beautiful. Much better than Scooby Doo. I should just give up on Scooby Doo, but I am too stubborn. It's genetic; all the women in my family are stubborn.

Really, I should stop goofing off and do something productive. (Can I use the excuse that Caitlin R. Kiernan plays video games, and she gets lots of writing done?)

So what next, now that NaNoWriMo is over? Well, come March, there's NaNoEdMo.

Still having trouble seeing through the tears of laughter: Kitty Video. (Thanks, Sue)

Oh, yeah. Draft one of The Secret Common-Wealth is 52,370 words. For while I thought it might be closer to 70,000. Now I've got to convince my increasingly decrepit laser printer to print it out. Double-spaced, it'll be close to 200 manuscript pages. It's a little novel, but not as little as my last one.

Gee, now that I've finished my novel for NaNoWriMo (or the first draft, anyway), I'm kind of at a loss. I don't really feel ready to start anything new, and I'm not quite in the right frame of mind to work on any of the things I left unfinished at the beginning of November. But I don't want to lose to 2,000-words-a-day momentum, either. I'm thinking I might change direction completely, and work on some comics.

50, 301 words and one more big scene to write. For a while I thought it would be longer, but then things started moving much more quickly. Hooray!

It occurred to me last night, when I should have been sleeping (which is when things usually occur to me), that this novel that I've almost got a first draft of fits right in the tradition of stories about fairies requiring human women for success in childbearing. A while back, I read a novel called Fairy Tale by Alice Thomas Ellis. It was quite good, and I must remember to find a copy. Anyway, in the novel, the Welsh fairies need human women to bear their children. That reminded me of Charles deLint's The Wild Wood (still, for some reason, my favourite deLint novel), where the main character agrees to bear a child for the fairy folk, because their own queen is incapable. I was thinking of writing an essay on that theme in literature -- the need for a human woman to bear fairy children. In folklore, it more usually shows up as the fairies needing a human midwife, or sometimes a human wet-nurse (which is why women are in great danger of being taken right after childbirth). So I've been keeping a list of all the books I can recall that have those motifs as well. And now I've gone and written one. I guess it's an idea that's been haunting me. I wonder how many stories it'll turn up in. I still haven't exorcised shapechangers from my creative psyche. I think nearly every story I've written since I finished my Master's has shapechangers in it. I was about to say "Except for The Secret Common-Wealth, " but then I remembered the fox woman Maddy saw in the woods near her old house. Yikes! I thought writing was supposed to work out the haunting things, not keep bringing them up over and over. Oh well. It's fun to see what permutation comes out each time I start a new story. At least the main character isn't a shapechanger this time.

Just for fun, I did a numerological profile for Maddy (at Facade).

Hmmm. Almost ten o'clock and I haven't written anything yet. Actually this is becoming disturbingly normal.

44, 757 words, and today I discovered that Dubhghall plays the tin whistle and the Pied Piper was a fairy. Maybe.

The end is nigh. Really, really nigh. I'm not so sure any more that I'll have much over 50, 000 words. My characters are heading into the grand finale, whether I'm ready for it or not.

I find it comforting that these things happen even to Neil Gaiman:

I had an utter fanboy moment when a faintly familiar-looking person came over at the end and introduced himself as Philip Pullman, and I just started gushing foolishly, and he was kind enough not to notice.

Hah! Just cracked 40, 000 words. I guess I can justify buying myself the t-shirt now.

What if Neil Gaiman, Tim Burton and Robert Smith were flatmates? Read Nice Hair, and find out. Amazing what turns up when you go through old bookmarks. And if you like that one, try Jinks by the same writer/artist.

Typed my brains out last night, due to the silly notion that I should write as much this week as I did last. So I'm up to 37, 754 words and closing in on the goal. The end of the story is approaching, too, despite some weird and unexpected detours.

34, 829 words and the bloody fairies continue to take over. Meanwhile Donald Macleod is not-so-quietly going insane (or having a breakdown, anyway), and I think there may be too many characters who don't do very much.

Gah! I am losing the ability to type and spell at the same time. Sometimes the sequences of letters that come out bear only the slightest resemblance to the word that was in my brain.

Today Maddy went into Doon Hill, which wasn't supposed to happen. But there was her mother waiting, so in she went. I don't know if the scene will stay or get cut, though it seems to have revealed Dubhghall as an ally. That's kind of nice, because I rather like him. You just can't tell with fairies, though. A lot of my adults are turning out to be very much less together than I originally thought they were, which means that Maddy has to really keep her head. And how do you keep your head when you're getting the grand tour of a fairy hall? I don't know, but maybe I will by the time she makes her way out again.

The fairies were only going to play a minor role in this story. It's supposed to be about kids and parents and coping with death. Now I think the Good People are taking over.

Unreason's Seductive Charms:

We may speak admiringly of Greek rationality, of the Age of Reason, and of the Enlightenment, yet it is far easier to find great writing -- and even, paradoxically, serious thinking -- that extols unreason, irrationality, and the beauty of "following one's heart" rather than one's head.

Very thought-provoking essay by David P. Barash (link via Frankenstein Journal.)

Wondering suddenly why the mothers of two of my main characters have the same name as my mother (and me), I looked it up:

Usual English form of Maria, which was the Latin form of the New Testament Greek names Mariam or Maria (the spellings are interchangeable), which were from the Hebrew name Miriam. The meaning is not known for certain, but there are several theories including "sea of bitterness", "rebelliousness", and "wished for child". However it was most likely originally an Egyptian name, perhaps derived in part from mry "beloved" or mr "love". This is the name of several New Testament characters, most importantly Mary the virgin mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene. Two queens of England have had this name, as well as a Queen of Scotland, Mary Queen of Scots.

I am no closer to figuring out this odd little occurence (keeping in mind that coincidences rarely happen in writing).

So then I looked up Madeline (it's on the same page as Mary), which is a variant of Madeleine, which is the French form of Magdalene (meaning "of Magdala"), which brings me right back to Mary. How bizarre.

Morag, which was supposed to have been Maddy's name, is the diminutive form of Mór, meaning "great."

One could argue that it's a religious thing, I suppose. Mary, Mother of God (and therefore mother of us all), and all that. But first one would have to suppose that I am religious. And, supposing that, one would be wrong.

It just occurs to me that John O'Brien (from the poorly-titled Taken, 1941) also had a mother named Mary. And my mother's name is Mary. (Then again, my own first name is Mary, so perhaps I'm just mothering my characters.)

Apparently Mary Fletcher Macleod doesn't want to be rescued from the fairies, and doesn't much miss her husband. This is probably good, for me anyway, because it makes things harder for Maddy. That, in turn, means it will take longer to come to a resolution (= more words), and it means more tension (= more interesting for the reader). Still, I feel kind of bad that I couldn't make Mary Fletcher want to be rescued so Maddy's happily-ever-after dreams could be realized. But that would be abusing my authorial power. Characters get very annoyed when you do that. (And thus is confirmed, for the non-writer, the basic insanity of writers, who behave as if their characters are real.)

Davis Sexton writes a great article on bad writing and bad writers. (Link via Bookslut.) Here's a sample:

Nobody would attempt to give a piano recital without having first learned to play the piano. People realise they cannot make a satisfactory chest of drawers, or even a serviceable cheeseboard, without having acquired some skill in carpentry. They know they are not competent as dentists or plumbers, if they have not had any experience or training. Yet they think that they can write a novel by some natural gift.

Somebody please tell me if I'm a bad writer, okay?

Just passed the halfway point on The Secret Commonwealth.

No, actually I just passed the halfway point to the NaNoWriMo goal of 50, 000 words. I suspect Secret's going to be somewhat longer. But not so much longer that I can't still finish the draft in November.

Just finished my latest multi-part Beginner's Guide (or should that be Beginners' Guide?) for the Creative Writing for Teens site at About.com: Writing Creative Non-Fiction. Bits of it I like, and bits I'm not so sure about. And, damn, it's hard to explain something that's defined by a negative. You end up talking about what it isn't instead of what it is.

23, 998 words.

I want this sword.

If only it weren't so expensive, I'd have me a subscription to 3rd Stone magazine. It's all about archaeology, folklore and myth. A little crackpotty, maybe, but that only makes it more fun.

This morning's discovery: very, very cool masks. (Link via Neil Gaiman, of course.)

Oh yeah, and a new character called Dubhghall showed up unannounced. I looked up Dubhghall on Behind the Name, and it turns out to mean "dark stranger," which is very eerily appropriate. I love it when things like that happen.

Yesterday it was finding out that the fairies had a perfectly good reason to kidnap Maddy's mother -- I was a little worried about motivation. Fairies, apparently, are always on the lookout for a good wetnurse, and women who've just given birth are very good at that. I knew this, but I'd forgotten. Guess my subconscious remembered. So when I read in The Enchantment of the Trossachs that it is "a wide-spread folk myth, in which a woman who has given birth to a child is spirited away by the fairies in order to nurture a fairy infant," I thought, "Of course. How silly of me to have worried." Even the fairies in my novel know what they're doing, quite without my help.

Phew! Busy day. Went into Langford with Sue to deliver the niece and nephew to their dad's, went grocery shopping, had a big roast beef dinner with relatives on the occasion of some more relatives being in town . . . Wrote 2, 357 words. Must sleep very, very soon (too much wine at dinner makes Niko a sleepy girl).

18, 770 words. And now I'm going to bed.

It may well be a deep-seated awareness that even matters of Faerie, being less disturbing than those of nuclear physics, tend to provide a modicum of balance and sanity in an age that has already demonstrated, pretty conclusively, its ability to obliterate itself.

That's Alisdair Alpin MacGregor, from Land of the Mountain and the Flood (1965), which quote I found in Louis Stott's The Enchantment of the Trossachs ("published for the tercentenary of the spiriting away of Robert Kirk," 1992).

16, 262 words and 4, 262 words ahead of schedule. Yee haw!

Mad-cloud, Mac-leod,
Sitting on a stump,
Wants to stop the ocean
From turning to a dump.

What's she gonna do about it?
What's she gonna do?
She'll try to tell the dol-phins
To blame it all on you.

I only used the first two lines of that one in the novel, but it didn't seem right to leave it unfinished.

In an interview (sort of) at Slashdot, Neil Gaiman says:

There was a Sandman story I wanted to write, which would have been a heartbreaker, and would have been about the dreams and hopes of an unborn baby, who was, for whatever reason, never going to be born. I didn't write it because I could imagine it being thrust in front of some pregnant teenager who didn't want to be pregnant to make her change her mind about what she was going to do.

I'm thinking Gaiman knows much about the power of story and the reponsibilty of those who wield that power. (Though I can't help but lament that I'll never get to read what would probably be a very moving story by one of my favourite writers.)

I was going to mention it this morning, that today is Guy Fawkes Day and Bonfire Night.

Some of the English have been known to wonder whether they are celebrating Fawkes' execution or honoring his attempt to do away with the government.

I wondered that myself. We were going to have a bonfire tonight to incinerate all the stuff that didn't get lit in our Halloween bonfire, and toast marshmallows (which we forgot to buy for our Halloween bonfire). But nobody seems to be very organized, plus Angel's on, and once again, we forgot to buy marshmallows. So Guy Fawkes won't be burned in effigy at our house.

Another tool of procrastination (but I'm at 11,482 words and counting): Clay Kitten Shooting. (Thanks a lot, Sue!)

Here's a very funny Neil Gaiman interview from Sequential Tart.

Yay! I just passed 10, 000 words, a whole day ahead of schedule.

Fun with rhyme! I made up a few poems for The Secret Common-Wealth.

Mad, Mad Madeline, talks to leafy trees.
Mad little Maddy’s got grass stains on her knees.
What’ll Maddy do when the men-in-white come
To take her to the mad house like her daddy should have done?

My main character was considered rather odd as a child. She saw fairies and ghosts and things.

There once was a girl dressed in green,
Said she saw things that never were seen,
Said, "That isn’t a tree,
That’s a fine, grand la-dy,
And you just can’t see what I mean."

I'm a lousy poet, pretty much, but these were fun.

I mentioned to my uncle the other day that I was suffering the second cold in as many months. He said -- joking -- something about Samson and that it was because I'd cut my hair. Hmmm.

Here are a few very cool sites I found while doing research for my novel (6,364 words and counting), in no particular order except that's how they're listed in my bookmarks:

Mysterious Britain -- "a guide to the legends, folklore, myths and mysterious places of Britain"

Myth and Legend of Britain -- "Witches and warriors, ghosts and giants, dragons, demons and kings have shaped the landscape and captured the imaginations of people throughout history."

Mysterious Britain (another one) -- "Looking for something different? Want a fright? Want to hunt for sea monsters? Maybe Chostbusting?"

Historic UK -- "THE history and heritage accommodation guide to England, Scotland and Wales"

First Foot -- "the website dedicated to exposing the myth, the magic, the beliefs and the baloney, the history, mystery and blistery feet that make up every walk of Scottish life"

Caledonian Castles -- "The Web's largest collection of Scotland's castles, tower houses and fortified houses"

If only my cat got along with other members of her species, I'd have a lovely blue-eyed white kitten with six toes on her front feet. Alas, Bast hates other cats. Here's a fascinating page on polydactyl cats. (Link via Neil Gaiman.)

Hee hee: "The End of the Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe's cat.

Here's a list of things to celebrate in November, if you're looking for an excuse to party. I'm assuming they know November only has 30 days.

My inner child is ten today:

The adult world is pretty irrelevant to me. Whether I'm off on my bicycle (or pony) exploring, lost in a good book, or giggling with my best friend, I live in a world apart, one full of adventure and wonder and other stuff adults don't understand.

How Old is Yours? (See how good I am at procrastinating? And still I've almost reached my word count for the day.)

Now I'm at 3,684 words (I feel like I'm writing a boring high school essay and counting every word -- "Only 46,316 to go"). Oh well, it is kind of encouraging to see how far I get each day. To know it's actually possible to do this thing, even if it isn't going to be the best I ever wrote (and it won't be, but that's what revision is for). Here's a little snippet:

"The folklore book was really hard to read. All academic. I finally ended up skipping the partsthat the author had written, and just reading the stories he quoted. They were neat. Like fantasy stories, only more real because people really believed they happened. The fairy book turned out to be pretty silly. It was all little people with butterfly wings and some totally fake-looking photographs. But it was the only one they had at the library. I found it next to the Sherlock Holmes books."

"That must've been The Coming of the Fairies. Arthur Conan Doyle, who wrote Sherlock Holmes, wrote that one, too. He was a little odd."

"Did Mum have that book?" Maddy set down her fork. She couldn't eat the overcooked green beans, but the lamb and potatoes and rutabaga had been delicious and filling.

Dad looked down at his plate, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to tackle his own beans. He poked at them, then said, "I think she did. She had a lot of books. '‘Plenty of goodness and just as much crap,' she used to say."

It's a bit of conversation between my main character, 14-year-old Madeline Fletcher Macleod (Maddy) and her dad (who doesn't have a name yet), about her mother (Mary Macleod, nee Fletcher), who died giving birth to Maddy. They've just moved back to Scotland, where Maddy was born (they left as soon as she was old enough to travel). Anyway, back to it.

Now here's something truly scary: Mystery Park.

The park is based on the “mysteries of the world” and the extraterrestrial theories of Swiss author Erich von Däniken.

Woo hoo! The Secret Common-Wealth just hit 2,399 words, which is 399 more than my daily goal of 2,000. Yay, me!

One person is already past 7,500 words. Guess they're trying to finish theirs in a week.

First go and the novel's at 1,441 words. If I use every one of the 30 days of November to write, I need at least 1,667 words per day, so I've got 226 words to go for today. 'Course, I'd like to be done early . . . Oh yeah, it's called The Secret Common-Wealth. Betcha can't figure out what it's about (hah).

From the NaNoWriMo Weekly Pep Talk:

Writing a novel, unlike cow-tying, is not something you really ever know for sure you can do. It's one of those frighteningly unpredictable activities like lawn darts and breakdancing that people with all their faculties tend to shy away from. Because, as adults, we don't usually gravitate towards endeavors that make us feel like complete idiots.

Wouldn't ya know it, it's the first day of NaNoWriMo and my second cold in two months just reached the drowning-in-my-own-fluids stage. Yuck. At least I can sit in bed with my laptop (the Internet cable even reaches in here).

I recently found out what it is like to nearly lose an eye. Or rather, I found out what it is like to come a little too close to nearly losing an eye. Er . . . What I am attempting to say is that I look like I was in a vicious catfight where my opponent tried to claw out my right eye, except it was really a stupid dog-petting accident.

I have a tall, narrrow dog. Narrow enough that when he rolls over on his back for a tummy rub, he doesn't balance very well. Consequently, I knocked him off balance while rubbing his tummy. He kicked out with a back leg to get balanced again, and my face happened to be in the way. Funny how I was more concerned about whether or not my eyeball was still intact (it was) than whether or not my cheek and eyelid were (they were, just scratched and stinging like the dickens). Or maybe not so funny, as it's easier to mend torn flesh than regrow a gouged-out or otherwise damaged eye.

Somehow, this didn't end up being nearly as amusing as I thought it would be. I guess I'm just not very funny.

I've figured it out. Cutting your hair is cutting yourself free from the accumulated past. All that hair was around when things from your past you might not want to remember happened. By cutting your hair short, you're removing all but the most recent growth, the most recent past. So those women who cut their hair right after they get divorced are removing themselves from their past -- their marriage -- so they can start fresh. (As for Samson, I think that had to do with a pact with God or something. But maybe Delilah was cutting him off from his heritage -- his past -- as well as his strength when she cut his hair. Or else I'm just making shit up again.)

Except I'm not trying to get free of my past. At least I don't think I am. Though moving back to Victoria to finish my writing degree was liking coming full circle, right back to where I'd left things when I moved away to study archaeology. So now I've moved to Duncan and cut my hair to escape the circle and start someplce new. Except that's not it at all. Not really. I'd already started off in a new direction (more or less) before I cut my hair. So I still don't have the answer. Oh well. I rather like it short.

Hair. I told Rowena I was composing something about hair, on the occasion (slightly after the occasion, now) of cutting all mine off.

Long hair is supposed to equal power. The Biblical Samson had superhuman strength, but once Delilah cut his hair off, he was weak. In some stories, mermaids are said to die if their hair dries (or is that nixes?). There are probably other legends along these lines in other cultures, but I can't think of any right now (ugh, I should not attempt to write deep, meaningful things when I have a phlegmy, snotty cold; this was going to be a fabulous piece of creative non-fiction).

I used to have very long hair.

Although the continual comments like, "Your hair is sooo long," and "It must have taken you forever to grow your hair" sometimes got annoying, I always liked having long hair. And it was long. I could sit on it (making it difficult, sometimes, to get up from a chair). It would get stuck under me in bed now and then, so I couldn't move my head. But then I dicovered that hanging it over the pillow got it out of the way. It was nice to brush.

Then I decided to cut it. People keep asking me why, and I can't really say. I just felt like it. I could never really do anything with it, besides put it in a braid, or put it in a pony tail, or maybe two braids or two ponytails for a change. Loose is nice, but have you ever tried to brush three feet of hair after you've stood out on a breakwater for an hour? Think high winds and salt air. I ended up with a rather disreputable-looking nest attached to my head. Some slovenly bird would have loved it. I very patiently brushed it out and though how lucky I was to be able to grow my hair so long. And then I decided to cut it.

So the braid the stylist took off measures about 27 inches (meaning that, unbraided, it'd be longer). Then, of course, she cut more off as she was styling. Everyone in the salon was worried that such a sudden change would be a shock. I felt fine. The hair is going to do good. It's all packed up to mail because I kept finding it. It's a weird thing to find a superlong braid of your hair lying around the house. Kind of like stumbling on your own severed limb, I imagine. But not as gross.

So now I have short, kind of saucy hair and I really like it. Can't say why, exactly, though when I was looking for haircut pictures online, I came across an article that said a lot of women get their hair cut short right after they get divorced or end a long-term relationship. It's a power thing. Short hair gives them power. A little different than the Samson and Delilah story.

I don't think that's why I did it, though. For power (haven't ended a relationship recently). I can't tell you why, but that wasn't it.

I haven't written a thing in October. Not on this blog, I mean. I did actually write some other stuff. But now that I know at least one person reads this babbling nonsense (Hi, Rowena!), I shall try to write more often.

So. Writing. I re-worked a little character description I did a while back (it won me a contest, the prize of which was domination of the world) (well, actually it was a replica of the One Ring, but it's still cool). Now it's something resembling a short short story, and is called "King of Kings, Master of Camels" (yeah, long title for a story a mere 360 words long). So now I have to find some unsuspecting editor to send it to. I've also been looking over some of my creative non-fiction, thinking about how I might revise it and where I might send it.

Fiction has stalled a little. I've started work on a Cobbleshore story called "Great Skerry," but I -- as I too often seem to do -- kind of skipped over the middle so I could get to the end. So then I made myself take some time through the middle and wouldn't let myself write the end. So now I have a so-so beginning, a boring middle, and no end. Bleah. I think I need to start again.

And I decided to sign up for NaNoWriMo (that's National -- except it's really international -- Novel Writing Month. It's in November, and the object is to write a whole novel (or at least 50, 000 words) in one month. Quantity over quality (which, I think, is a good way to write first drafts). I'll be working on a YA novel called The Secret Common-Wealth, which so far is a vague outline (which is okay, as the rules say no writing until November 1). We'll see what I actually get done.

Take The Geek Test. I'm a major geek at 38.06706%. Yikes! I knew a was a little geeky, but major?

I can't remember what they were at before, but "Come-From-Away" is now on page 12 of Bitbooks' Digital Fiction Links, and has an average rating of 10 (out of 10), while "A Gift of Bones and Motley Feathers" seems to have disappeared from the listings entirely. Weird.

These have gotta be the coolest action figures ever! I need that Rosie the Riveter. (link via a link to the librarian figure on Neil Gaiman's blog)

Finally, something I can blog about. Yes, I wrote something! I'm about two third of the way through a new short story, probably titled "Great Skerry." AND I recently edited two other stories (another rewrite of what was once called "Bird Bones and Feathers" and a fine-tuning of "Caught on Thorns: Three Variations of Snow White," which is really three stories for the price of one). AND I almost have script and thumbnails done for issue two of Fey, the comic that takes me forever to create. Still no sign of a link to Faerie or Bust from Scott McCloud's 24 hour comic index, though. Must be patient.

In other news, sort of, I didn't win the Clarke-Bradbury International Science Fiction Competition. Not that I expected to, but it would've been cool.

Me, according to the numerologists at Facade. Weird, but kind of cool.