Monday, May 23, 2011

Humans are illogical. We play with logic, like diving deep or flying, but we always have to return to our surface.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

On Writing

One of my favorite interview questions people ask writers is, "What music do you listen to when you write?"

I love it for two reasons. The first is that I am fascinated by the lies people tell themselves. Not the ones they deliberately tell others. The ones they casually toss out there in a self-promoting kind of way. I mean the ones where people say, "I only ever eat protein and fruit" and they believe it so you'll believe it. But you know better because you've seen her scarf down 5/6 of her toddler's chicken nuggets while the little cherub wets himself a story and a half up in the maze of tubes. Just like you know she lied to herself when she giggled and hit his hands with gel sanitizer saying she is a serious mysophobe. If she really was phobic and not simply aware of germs, there is no way in hell she'd have suggested having a meeting at the McDonald's Playland.

Looping back, I find it hard to believe that one can craft a quality work while listening to music. Music demands my attention. I cannot come up with original thoughts when someone else's words are pouring into my ears. Maybe what they want is to be seen as someone who listens to that music. And also probably to be read by people that listen to that type of music. Which is why the writers that give the extensive, eclectic list of names crack me up the most. They want to be read by EVERYONE. Well, who doesn't, I guess? These writers who get interviewed probably do listen to the music on their list. I like to imagine someone keeping an iPod Shuffle in their pocket with their playlist just in case they ever get called on the carpet over their answer. And maybe the ideas do hit them while they listen to that playlist. But each sentence and the studious word choice and the editing? Good god, the EDITING? Are we supposed to think that this novel is something that just spilled out of them after downloading something off iTunes? Send me the link, because I'd one-click buy that thing twice.

Writing is work. It is labor intensive. It is time consuming. It requires a singular focus. I feel it in my own work and I see it in the kids I teach. I have had some of those moments where words come from within and out on to the page and I feel like the lucky little conduit. But it was a hell of a lot of work and practice to get to that space. Even harder to stay there.

Which ties into the second reason I love that interview question. I am truly intrigued by the headiness some writers attach to their craft. The routines and the settings and the exact writing utensil and only a certain font...it gets them in the mood or the zone or some level of zen. Whatever rocks your socks, my friends, but you know what I think? I think that some people need to convince themselves they are writers before they can write. Some of them produce wonderful things. But it amuses me nonetheless.

Maybe it sticks with me because I don't write like that. I need to get something rolling around in my brain for a good, long time before I know how it wants to land on the page. I guess I write to convince myself I am a writer. And I hope to, some day, produce wonderful things.

And when the interviewer asks me what music I listen to when I write I will tell the honest truth: an original composition. It is a complex layering of dishwasher, clothes dryer, barking dogs, video game chirps, and the lilt of my children's pleasure (or growling if the game goes poorly) all muffled through a closed door.

Next question.

Where do I write? Where don't I write. I am writing about you in my head right now, interviewer. About what you wish you were doing and how bummed you were when your editor sent you an email with this assignment and my name on it. (And also, I am writing the part about your interviewing me.)


Monday, May 9, 2011

Safety Warning

In all fairness, I ought to make you aware of something. You know, so we don't get 3 years into this and you suddenly realize I'm not the blogger you thought I was. You'll ditch me and run back to Alice Bradley. Ok, that's not true. She's much too busy to blog much anymore so I doubt you'll find her distance very satisfying. Though, I have to tell you, she and I have had a multi-email exchange (name dropping, yes) and she seems like a genuinely nice person. Like the kind of person that would tell you something at dinner and then blog the same thing about you later. Unlike some other people who would have a conversation with you and then you read about it on their blog where they wrote about all the things they were thinking about you during dinner but never said. Bitches. (No, wait. That's me. Not Bitches, then. Amusingly Snarky we'll call it.)

Ok. Confession: I can read naughty into almost anything. Like my new hair curler thing. It is called a 3-Barrel Jumbo Waver. Which sounds like the kind of adult novelty item that would make even my jaw drop in disbelief. Theoretically, I can only figure out what to do with 2/3 of the barrels. It doesn't help that the back says, "Larger Barrels, Faster Results." But I don't think I am the only one confused because there are more safety warnings on this thing than a b-b gun. Including: "Caution THIS PRODUCT CAN BURN EYES." Eyes, really? It is 5" long and 4" wide. But you know (as Julia from Safety Graphic Fun would say) in order for that sign to be there, someone tried to curl their lashes with it.

But what's really bad about this behavior of mine is that it is contagious. You'll start by rolling your eyes when I giggle, and soon you'll find yourself anticipating. It is just a short spiral down to participating. And then there is no controlling it. It will show up in the most unlikely conversations. Soon you'll resent me for ruining tea with the vicar. It's only a matter of time.






Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Actual Distress

I did something terrible this week. And I find myself processing it in a semi-Elizabeth-Kubler-Ross sort of manner. Below I have outlined the stages of

SORRY I COLORED MY DAUGHTER'S HAIR:

1. Justify it
I have done this three times before and it turned out beautifully each time.
2. Frame it
75% success rate isn't so bad considering I am not a professional.

3. Correct it
Brassy, orange highlights can certainly be fixed with a temporary Medium Natural Brown rinse.

4. Sell it
She looks GREAT with dark auburn hair. It blends well with her very dark eyes, lashes and brows.

5. Recognize it
Aw shit. That's quite red.

6. Apologize for it
I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry...

7. Pay for it
She will be missing a day of school tomorrow and we will be spending half of it at the spendy salon with a color expert to get her back to her actual natural medium brown.

8. (I don't know about this one yet, but I am hoping it involves forgiveness. I also need to point out that Miss M is not mad at me. Bless her awkwardly darkened locks. She said, "I'm smart, mom. I know that blaming you for this is not productive. I just want it fixed.")