Thursday, August 9, 2012
An excellent article by Valerie Knowles
Ottawa biographer/historian Valerie Knowles has written an excellent article on the effects upon writers and researches of the recent government cutbacks to institutions like Library and Archives Canada. "Doors Close on Nation's Memory" appeared in the Toronto Star on June 23, 2012, and may be read on Valerie's website, www.valerieknowles.com
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
I'll Miss Them
Last night on the news I learned of the death of Maeve Binchy. In one of my scrapbooks I have a postcard I received from her in response to a fan letter I sent her. In my view, her two best books are Light a Penny Candle and Circle of Friends. I read somewhere that when she was working as a journalist she used to get up very early in the morning to write fiction before going to the newspaper office. She kept her work in progress, her typewriter and any other materials she might need on a tea trolley tucked away under the stairs. When she wheeled it out before dawn she had everything she needed close at hand and didn't have to waste time getting organized. I also read that she wrote fiction for years without getting published, and got to the point where she could hardly bring herself to lick the stamp to put on the manuscript she was sending out, because it all seemed so futile. Then she got published, and her career blossomed.
She was Irish and universal. In all of her novels one got a sense of her warm humanitarian outlook.
On the news last night she was compared to Jane Austen, and indeed, although her style was quite different from Austen's, they both explored the hearts and minds of women. Both had a sense of what constitutes fairness and decency. Both wrote positive endings.
Then this morning on TV I saw that American novelist Gore Vidal died at 84. Upstairs in my bookcase are Burr; 1876 and Washington D.C., his well-known trilogy of American history novels, and also, Lincoln. I admired him for his wit and his use of social history along with political "official" history.
These two novelists were very different in their themes and styles, but both were good at their craft. In my view, an aspiring writer shouldn't just like one genre, or one author, or "literary" fiction as opposed to "popular" fiction, but should read and see the merits in a lot of different things. I urge budding writers to sample both Binchy and Vidal. I will miss both of them. Although I never met either, they were friends, inspirations, and part of my life. Never ask for whom the bell tolls.
She was Irish and universal. In all of her novels one got a sense of her warm humanitarian outlook.
On the news last night she was compared to Jane Austen, and indeed, although her style was quite different from Austen's, they both explored the hearts and minds of women. Both had a sense of what constitutes fairness and decency. Both wrote positive endings.
Then this morning on TV I saw that American novelist Gore Vidal died at 84. Upstairs in my bookcase are Burr; 1876 and Washington D.C., his well-known trilogy of American history novels, and also, Lincoln. I admired him for his wit and his use of social history along with political "official" history.
These two novelists were very different in their themes and styles, but both were good at their craft. In my view, an aspiring writer shouldn't just like one genre, or one author, or "literary" fiction as opposed to "popular" fiction, but should read and see the merits in a lot of different things. I urge budding writers to sample both Binchy and Vidal. I will miss both of them. Although I never met either, they were friends, inspirations, and part of my life. Never ask for whom the bell tolls.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
On Vacation - at work!
Ottawa has been hot and muggy for weeks now, with no end in sight. The daily chores of life seem Herculean labours when the humidex is high. Nevertheless, my husband and I manage to keep on top of things, getting the bills paid on time, fulfilling our commitments and obligations (in my case, getting certain writing assignments in on time) and trying to be good citizens by doing our laundry during the off peak periods of electricity use. We don't want to cause a brown-out.
A lot of people don't seem to be trying as hard as we are. I'm thinking about people who owe us money and show no signs of paying up. I'm pondering my course of action. But I'm also fed up with people spending their days in air-conditioned environments where they are supposed to be serving the public, and failing to do so - like a library employee at the information desk who was rude when I asked about a program that used to be offered. Turned out I knew more about it than he did.
Then, in another workplace, there's an administrator who supports an instructor who is encroaching upon a certain seniors' program. Who cares about seniors being crowded out?
In another work environment, a program head needed me to write an item a.s.a.p. to meet her deadline. She said she'd get back to me with the revised item and more details. That was six weeks ago. Maybe she's on holidays.
In the late spring I snail mailed and emailed five friendly and reasonable queries/proposals/requests to five different people in authority positions. None has been acknowledged. Even if the answer is "No", it would be nice to get an email saying so. If I'd dropped them down a well instead of mailing them, at least I would have heard a splash.
Let's not forget the doctor who didn't feel like taking her turn serving drop-in patients on a Sunday, and who took out her displeasure on a patient who felt so in need of medical attention that he stood outside the clinic on a sore foot for half an hour in the heat so as to be there when the clinic opened. .
And there are a home supply store staff who sit at a desk to be consulted about home improvement matters - but turn out to be unable to measure accurately or to add fractions.
None of these people were working outdoors, risking dehydration and lightheadedness from the heat and humidity. All were comfortable cool indoor environments. All seemed to be on vacation - at work.
Yes, we're all only human and we all have personal problems and concerns which get exacerbated by heat and humidity. I'm probably foolish to try to accomplish anything this summer. After physiotherapy this morning (with a wonderful, kind, capable physiotherapist) I plan to lie low and work on the novel I'm writing.
But when things cool down, I may write a couple of complaining letters. Some years ago, I encountered a rude a postal outlet employee who didn't undertand that I needed postage for a "stamped, self-addressed envelope" to go inside the main envelope. I went home and phoned Canada Post. Within a week, someone from Canada Post was there retraining the staff at that outlet. Soon after that, the rude postal worker disappeared.
A lot of people don't seem to be trying as hard as we are. I'm thinking about people who owe us money and show no signs of paying up. I'm pondering my course of action. But I'm also fed up with people spending their days in air-conditioned environments where they are supposed to be serving the public, and failing to do so - like a library employee at the information desk who was rude when I asked about a program that used to be offered. Turned out I knew more about it than he did.
Then, in another workplace, there's an administrator who supports an instructor who is encroaching upon a certain seniors' program. Who cares about seniors being crowded out?
In another work environment, a program head needed me to write an item a.s.a.p. to meet her deadline. She said she'd get back to me with the revised item and more details. That was six weeks ago. Maybe she's on holidays.
In the late spring I snail mailed and emailed five friendly and reasonable queries/proposals/requests to five different people in authority positions. None has been acknowledged. Even if the answer is "No", it would be nice to get an email saying so. If I'd dropped them down a well instead of mailing them, at least I would have heard a splash.
Let's not forget the doctor who didn't feel like taking her turn serving drop-in patients on a Sunday, and who took out her displeasure on a patient who felt so in need of medical attention that he stood outside the clinic on a sore foot for half an hour in the heat so as to be there when the clinic opened. .
And there are a home supply store staff who sit at a desk to be consulted about home improvement matters - but turn out to be unable to measure accurately or to add fractions.
None of these people were working outdoors, risking dehydration and lightheadedness from the heat and humidity. All were comfortable cool indoor environments. All seemed to be on vacation - at work.
Yes, we're all only human and we all have personal problems and concerns which get exacerbated by heat and humidity. I'm probably foolish to try to accomplish anything this summer. After physiotherapy this morning (with a wonderful, kind, capable physiotherapist) I plan to lie low and work on the novel I'm writing.
But when things cool down, I may write a couple of complaining letters. Some years ago, I encountered a rude a postal outlet employee who didn't undertand that I needed postage for a "stamped, self-addressed envelope" to go inside the main envelope. I went home and phoned Canada Post. Within a week, someone from Canada Post was there retraining the staff at that outlet. Soon after that, the rude postal worker disappeared.
Monday, July 23, 2012
my review of Elisabeth Badinter's The Conflict
My review of Elisabeth Badinter's latest book, The Conflict, published in May in the CCPA Monitor, may be read at www.policyalternatives.ca/publications/monitors/bringing.baby
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
review of Augusten Burroughs' new book: This is How
Augusten Burroughs' latest book, This is How, (NY, St. Martin's Press, 2012, $28.99 Can) is a blend of self-help and autobiography. The latter genre has made him famous. In Running with Scissors, he told of his early years with two unstable, violent parents. In his early teens his mother gave him away to be raised in her psychiatrist's bizarre family. A Wolf at the Table, another of his books that I have read, is about his father, an angry alcoholic with a personality disorder. Burroughs has also written about getting sober and seeing his partner through a terminal illness.
Having survived all that, and having become an advertising executive and a successful author with no more formal education than elementary school, Burroughs is a remarkable human being with interesting insights.
This is How goes against the relentless emphasis on being positive that pervades not only pop psychology books but also our daily lives. He advises us to ignore society's obsession with being upbeat and to examine and name our feelings. "Real optimism is not the pep talk you give yourself," he writes. "It comes through the labor involved in emotional housekeeping."
Burroughs begins with an incident involving an aggressive positivity-monger on an elevator, He goes on to address some of life's challenges, beginning with the ordinary and ending with the heartbreaking. In his chapter, "How to Find Love", he points out that on a planet with seven billion people, it's likely there is more than just one soul mate for you. He urges those searching for mates to get out and meet more people, to increase their odds of finding someone compatible. When you meet someone who might be "the one", instead of putting your best foot forward, be yourself and never try to impress anyone. "You cannot make a mistake with the right person for you," says Burroughs.
In "How to be Fat", he points out that, in order to lose weight you have to decide whether the unpleasantness of self-denial is worth it. He notes that people who are a little bit larger are statistically likely to live longer and are insulated against certain diseases. "There's absolutely no shame whatsoever in deciding you'd rather spend your life paying attention to something other than the weight of your physical body," he writes. Instead, you can figure out how to style and present yourself so as to be "magnificently beautiful" and "sexy as hell".
With regard to smoking and alcoholism, Burrough's advice is, again, to decide whether the unpleasantness of going without the substance is worth the freedom from addiction. I have no personal experience of smoking or alcholism, but I suspect that supporters of Alcoholics Anonymous will disagree with Burrough's claim that some of AA's concepts "undermine sobriety." For him, the way to stop drinking was to want sobriety more than alcholol. He never felt powerless over alcohol; for him it was always a choice, so he believes that the "powerlessness" step gives people permission to relapse. Also, he thinks that talking about alchohol every day when you can't drink it is counter-productive for some people.
For Burroughs, the way to stop drinking was to fill the space that alcohol had once occupied with something more interesting and rewarding. In his case it was writing. He thinks that those who benefit from AA fiill the gap with particpation in the AA community.
Writing was Burrough's way of getting over his traumatic past. It wasn't so much exorcising his demons that helped, as it was having an absorbing project. If he'd been writing cookbooks, he says, the effect of freeing himself would have been the same. Too many people, he believes, get addicted to therapy and to the story of their past, rather than focusing on projects in the present.
Burroughs' words are worth our attention because he has triumphed over some terrible things. But what of people who are busily engaged in absorbing and worthwhile projects in the present, and then, out of the blue, are felled by some incident that brings to the surface all the terrible memories? I suppose his answer comes in his chapter, "How to Remain Unhealed." He calls "Heal" a "television word", and said that there are some things in life from which you do not heal. Yet the hole in the centre of your life can "narrow" enough for you to rejoice at new good things that come your way.
Tackling the subject of suicide, Burroughs says that if you want to end your life, you don't have to die. You can exchange the life you have for a better one. At one point, he decided that all he needed to change his life was "a door and a highway."
Although lacking direct experience of most of the big issues Burroughs addresses, long ago I cared for a spouse who was terminally ill. Burroughs is right in saying that: "The worst thing you can imagine is not so bad if viewed from inside." In other words, when you're caught up in the situation, coping with the present, you can bear things that you would never have imagined." Burrough cautions us not to imagine the worst-case scenario in advance, as it may never happen. When skittish friends ask if there is anything they can do, he suggests that you ask them to cook something and drop it off, because "no one at your house has the energy to say hi." And finally, the best way to prepare for a friend's death is by "being alive in the same room" with them.
Some reviewers have called Burroughs' observations and advice "cliched", but I enjoyed the humour of the opening chapters and the ring of authenticity in the latter ones. His conversational style and his reminders that he has "been there" make us feel that, whatever we are facing, we are not alone.
Having survived all that, and having become an advertising executive and a successful author with no more formal education than elementary school, Burroughs is a remarkable human being with interesting insights.
This is How goes against the relentless emphasis on being positive that pervades not only pop psychology books but also our daily lives. He advises us to ignore society's obsession with being upbeat and to examine and name our feelings. "Real optimism is not the pep talk you give yourself," he writes. "It comes through the labor involved in emotional housekeeping."
Burroughs begins with an incident involving an aggressive positivity-monger on an elevator, He goes on to address some of life's challenges, beginning with the ordinary and ending with the heartbreaking. In his chapter, "How to Find Love", he points out that on a planet with seven billion people, it's likely there is more than just one soul mate for you. He urges those searching for mates to get out and meet more people, to increase their odds of finding someone compatible. When you meet someone who might be "the one", instead of putting your best foot forward, be yourself and never try to impress anyone. "You cannot make a mistake with the right person for you," says Burroughs.
In "How to be Fat", he points out that, in order to lose weight you have to decide whether the unpleasantness of self-denial is worth it. He notes that people who are a little bit larger are statistically likely to live longer and are insulated against certain diseases. "There's absolutely no shame whatsoever in deciding you'd rather spend your life paying attention to something other than the weight of your physical body," he writes. Instead, you can figure out how to style and present yourself so as to be "magnificently beautiful" and "sexy as hell".
With regard to smoking and alcoholism, Burrough's advice is, again, to decide whether the unpleasantness of going without the substance is worth the freedom from addiction. I have no personal experience of smoking or alcholism, but I suspect that supporters of Alcoholics Anonymous will disagree with Burrough's claim that some of AA's concepts "undermine sobriety." For him, the way to stop drinking was to want sobriety more than alcholol. He never felt powerless over alcohol; for him it was always a choice, so he believes that the "powerlessness" step gives people permission to relapse. Also, he thinks that talking about alchohol every day when you can't drink it is counter-productive for some people.
For Burroughs, the way to stop drinking was to fill the space that alcohol had once occupied with something more interesting and rewarding. In his case it was writing. He thinks that those who benefit from AA fiill the gap with particpation in the AA community.
Writing was Burrough's way of getting over his traumatic past. It wasn't so much exorcising his demons that helped, as it was having an absorbing project. If he'd been writing cookbooks, he says, the effect of freeing himself would have been the same. Too many people, he believes, get addicted to therapy and to the story of their past, rather than focusing on projects in the present.
Burroughs' words are worth our attention because he has triumphed over some terrible things. But what of people who are busily engaged in absorbing and worthwhile projects in the present, and then, out of the blue, are felled by some incident that brings to the surface all the terrible memories? I suppose his answer comes in his chapter, "How to Remain Unhealed." He calls "Heal" a "television word", and said that there are some things in life from which you do not heal. Yet the hole in the centre of your life can "narrow" enough for you to rejoice at new good things that come your way.
Tackling the subject of suicide, Burroughs says that if you want to end your life, you don't have to die. You can exchange the life you have for a better one. At one point, he decided that all he needed to change his life was "a door and a highway."
Although lacking direct experience of most of the big issues Burroughs addresses, long ago I cared for a spouse who was terminally ill. Burroughs is right in saying that: "The worst thing you can imagine is not so bad if viewed from inside." In other words, when you're caught up in the situation, coping with the present, you can bear things that you would never have imagined." Burrough cautions us not to imagine the worst-case scenario in advance, as it may never happen. When skittish friends ask if there is anything they can do, he suggests that you ask them to cook something and drop it off, because "no one at your house has the energy to say hi." And finally, the best way to prepare for a friend's death is by "being alive in the same room" with them.
Some reviewers have called Burroughs' observations and advice "cliched", but I enjoyed the humour of the opening chapters and the ring of authenticity in the latter ones. His conversational style and his reminders that he has "been there" make us feel that, whatever we are facing, we are not alone.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Searching through files
Today I got an email from an interlibrary loan technician at a university library. Someone had requested an article I wrote in 1991, but the actual text of the article seemed to be hard to find, although the article has been cited in bibliographies. Hoping that I would have a copy, the library employee wrote to me.
Instantly I could picture the clipping in my mind's eye. I knew I had it, but where, exactly? In recent years I have been filing my published articles and short stories in presentation binders available from office supply stores. They consist of clear plastic envelopes bound together. I slip the items in as they get published and they're in sequence. Back in 1991, though, I didn't file too carefully. I was awfully busy back then, with many irons in the fire, and tended to throw published items into file folders or stick them in scrapbooks without putting them in chronological order.
I spent an hour going through dusty boxes and scrapbooks, and found the article. I will send a copy by snail mail as Roger and I don't have a fax.
While searching for the article, I began to feel proud of what I have accomplished. I found poems, articles and stories that I had almost forgotten. If I ever want to publish another short story collection or poetry chapbook I have plenty of published material to consider. I remembered the thrill of seeing my work in print and the pleasure of being paid for some of it.
A couple of months ago, in a conversation with a new acquaintance, I mentioned that I am a writer. "It's nice that you have a hobby, " he said. "My mum keeps a journal." I wasn't thrilled to be categorized with someone for whom writing is scribbling random thoughts in a notebook, so I changed the subject, feeling very undervalued. "You work for years at your "craft and sullen art" and get no respect," I grumbled to myself.
Digging through my files to find the article tonight reminded me that I am a "real" writer, in the sense of a published, dedicated writer with a long resume. I've been one for many years. I should sort through my clippings more often.
Instantly I could picture the clipping in my mind's eye. I knew I had it, but where, exactly? In recent years I have been filing my published articles and short stories in presentation binders available from office supply stores. They consist of clear plastic envelopes bound together. I slip the items in as they get published and they're in sequence. Back in 1991, though, I didn't file too carefully. I was awfully busy back then, with many irons in the fire, and tended to throw published items into file folders or stick them in scrapbooks without putting them in chronological order.
I spent an hour going through dusty boxes and scrapbooks, and found the article. I will send a copy by snail mail as Roger and I don't have a fax.
While searching for the article, I began to feel proud of what I have accomplished. I found poems, articles and stories that I had almost forgotten. If I ever want to publish another short story collection or poetry chapbook I have plenty of published material to consider. I remembered the thrill of seeing my work in print and the pleasure of being paid for some of it.
A couple of months ago, in a conversation with a new acquaintance, I mentioned that I am a writer. "It's nice that you have a hobby, " he said. "My mum keeps a journal." I wasn't thrilled to be categorized with someone for whom writing is scribbling random thoughts in a notebook, so I changed the subject, feeling very undervalued. "You work for years at your "craft and sullen art" and get no respect," I grumbled to myself.
Digging through my files to find the article tonight reminded me that I am a "real" writer, in the sense of a published, dedicated writer with a long resume. I've been one for many years. I should sort through my clippings more often.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
I'm at the computer, revising...
I've been busy at the computer making corrections to a novel of mine in manuscript form. Last week my editor/friend returned the edited manuscript to me. It was a pleasure to receive not only her feedback about the big picture, but also her copy-editing. She has a Ph.D in English, teaches that subject at the college level, has read widely, and edits for a small publishing company, so I respect her reactions. We agreed at the outset that she would feel free to find fault with anything that didn't seem right to her.
Although I didn't say so to my friend, I had already sent this novel to the editor of a small publishing company, who rejected it with the opinion that it was about too many things. I had braced myself for my friend to tell me the same thing, but she didn't. She saw how the various parts were connected! The editor at the publishing house was a young man; my friend is a woman in the same age range as I (which is, incidentally, the age group most likely to buy books and read them.)
I didn't share with her some of my other concerns; for instance, whether the central character's project was boring, whether there were too many trips back in time to formative periods of her past, and whether or not the outcome rang true. As it turns out, she did not find any problems in these areas.
A writer, being close to her own project, doesn't always recognize areas which require expansion; it takes another pair of eyes and another frame of reference to catch such problems, and I am very glad to have these things pointed out to me.
No writer wants a "yes" person as an editor. Such a person won't save you from looking like a fool in print. On the other hand, a writer in quest of feedback should be selective in whom you ask ask for an opinion. Find someone who has read a great deal and is familiar with various ways of presenting a story. Long ago, when I belonged to a writers' organization that is now defunct, one of the officers of the group generously offered her skills as a reader to members of the organization. Several of us, uncomfortable with her choppy style and sensational choice of subject matter, managed to evade her, except when she butchered our bio notes for the group's annual publication.
I feel confident that my novel is now ready to go out into the world and seek its fortune.
I
Although I didn't say so to my friend, I had already sent this novel to the editor of a small publishing company, who rejected it with the opinion that it was about too many things. I had braced myself for my friend to tell me the same thing, but she didn't. She saw how the various parts were connected! The editor at the publishing house was a young man; my friend is a woman in the same age range as I (which is, incidentally, the age group most likely to buy books and read them.)
I didn't share with her some of my other concerns; for instance, whether the central character's project was boring, whether there were too many trips back in time to formative periods of her past, and whether or not the outcome rang true. As it turns out, she did not find any problems in these areas.
A writer, being close to her own project, doesn't always recognize areas which require expansion; it takes another pair of eyes and another frame of reference to catch such problems, and I am very glad to have these things pointed out to me.
No writer wants a "yes" person as an editor. Such a person won't save you from looking like a fool in print. On the other hand, a writer in quest of feedback should be selective in whom you ask ask for an opinion. Find someone who has read a great deal and is familiar with various ways of presenting a story. Long ago, when I belonged to a writers' organization that is now defunct, one of the officers of the group generously offered her skills as a reader to members of the organization. Several of us, uncomfortable with her choppy style and sensational choice of subject matter, managed to evade her, except when she butchered our bio notes for the group's annual publication.
I feel confident that my novel is now ready to go out into the world and seek its fortune.
I
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