GIFTING & NaNo

A month and three days since my fall and everything seems to be functioning. No coffee since mid-October. sigh I cut back on salt. Cut wine from 30 glasses/ month to 2. I did not stop running after the Bridge Crossing—ran yesterday on schedule. I am typing without pain on my new Mac. I am hoping to find an actual doctor in Portland. The crows are flocking in our eastern view from the condo. I have resisted ordering yarn on sale or fabric from Liberty of London. I have enough. And November was National Novel Writing Month.

The sky, the sky, and the sky.
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TROUBLE & NaNo

Janet Sobel (May 31, 1893 – November 11, 1968), born Jennie Olechovsky, was a Ukrainian-born American Abstract Expressionist painter whose career started mid-life, at age forty-five[2] in 1938. Sobel pioneered the drip painting technique that directly influenced Jackson Pollock. She was credited as exhibiting the first instance of all-over painting seen by Clement Greenberg, a notable art critic.”—Wikipedia

When her father was killed in a pogrom, she, with her midwife mother and siblings immigrated to the United States. Here she married quite young, raised five children, and began painting at age 37. In the following years she created a revolutionary way to paint and to approach painting.

This morning I read an essay promoting a new book by Noah Charney, “the internationally best-selling author of more than a dozen books.” His essay, “Drip Painting Was Actually Invented by a Ukrainian Grandmother… Not Jackson Pollock” arrived today as a blurb from Lit Hub.

Two problems with this. The easy one; I did in fact know Janet Sobel’s name, though I am inclined to misspell it and like generations of students taking Art History in college we never studied a single female painter. The stickier issue is that a someone already wrote this essay.

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READING BETWEEN THE LINES Day 6/NaNo

The day before yesterday, I attended Portland Book Festival 2023. I heard two discussions, toured both floors of booths, talked to a couple of editors, met an interesting woman, and didn’t get very wet in the rain.

Sometimes the sky is too amazing.
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PELICANS & DAY TWO

1:50am. The power blinked off and back on a few minutes ago. We were already awakened by the gale blowing harsh music through the eaves. It must be November.

We’re wondering about the pelicans. There are a dozen fishing just offshore. In the past twenty years, we’ve often had pelicans around for months. The confusing bit is that it’s November. Pelicans should be long gone by now. There’s something else too.

Typical surf, most days since June.
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NaNoWriMo 2023

I have set everything else aside, because November is for writing.

Designing the cover is something I could do before this morning. The other was opening a file where I would begin typing. The title is from the first story I will revise for the collection.

I tend to wake too early, but today I slept more than seven hours after an early night, and was ready to write before six. I was so anxious to begin. Two thousand and some words each day will get me to my goal. Every day for the thirty days of November.

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BIRTHDAY

I have received three cards and a Rubic’s heart [below], which was a little scary but I figured it out. Wish I could figure out who sent it! Both sons deny knowledge. Seventy-one today.

I was working on this shawl during the gallery opening. It has a really lovely handspun in the weft. The next one that I am working on now is more toward indigo and has already been sold. Fingers crossed for me because I want to buy a painting if I make enough to afford it.
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WHAT I DO WITH MY LIFE

At this point, what I did: I learned how to do things. I had experiences. Some sad. Some pure glory.

…and future plans.

Two things happening in this photo. The basalt poking through the sand was covered over with sand all summer. The tide has been dragging sand offshore, but strong onshore wind has also blown sand in so there is still “plenty of beach” for me to run. The black streaks are something less natural, petroleum from some unknown source, likely a passing ship [illegally] emptied its bilge or a local leaking oil tank. We’ve been seeing increasing pollution onshore for the last few years, though decades ago my young sons once came out of a tide pool with huge blots of black oil on their little-boy legs and bellies.
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sharing our work

A writer I know recently asked for opinions about sharing writing in public or with the public. It’s wonderful that writers share work. It’s extraordinarily helpful to have feedback and to use that to encourage further work in revision or something new. Pure glory to have our work well-received.

My thoughts about sharing drafts begin with the goal, which for most writers is to improve our writing. I hope that’s the goal. We need an objective reader or listener to help us locate weakness and strength and to ensure the writing is accomplishing the work we hope it is accomplishing. Most of us hope for praise, but if that’s all a writer is looking for, the rest of what I have to say will not be helpful. 

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THE DECLUTTERING CURE

Today is the first day of October, and a lot is happening: The Portland Marathon [I am not running], sorting bins [yarn, stuff, and fabric], running, gallery show, and looking ahead.

The newest issue of CALYX with two pieces from me.
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GOOD NEWSs

Yes, I will count both fiction and review as two even though in the same publication.

Issue 34:1 of CALYX Journal has gone to press and my story “The Promised Hour” is featured on the announcement page where you can read it. In the same issue is my review of the marvelous and award-winning short story collection by Wendy Wimmer. I was most fortunate to be sent a review copy of Entry Level: Stories. Those stories have stayed with me, digging around in my subconscious and sending me off on wild flights of discovery. Just to mention one story: A wry entity sends dreams to sleepers. After an unpleasant dream the dreamer tries to lock dreams out by using sleeping pills. Oh, dear, that’s not going to go well.

Brown pelicans have been fishing right out front all this month. I am, of course, not close to this bird but using my camera zoom. Sometimes, when I zoom out all the way, I struggle to hold the lens steady.

Shall I consider these two publications due out next month recompense for being cussed out this morning? Yes, yes, I shall. Plus a reminder of my podcast introduction to All the Daughters Sing. That novel is making the rounds. Two full MS requests so far.

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