So the news is, in case you have not been picking up on my extremely subtle hints, that Rose-coloured is moving to its very own dedicated URL with a splendid new design from Create Me This, and life is good. Ok, life is actually incredibly hectic, so I've been building up to the big unveiling by not posting much--I'm sure you've been crushed by my silence. But see below--lotsa cool stuff:
1) May is the Month of the Short Story. I sort of knew this last year, but not really, because I spent most of May in Japan, where was probably not the Month of the Short Story and even if it was I wouldn't have understood. Anyway, I definitely know it this year because Steven WB has moved 31 Days of Short Stories to now and that's so amazing. Although my first thought when I saw the first post was, "Hey, that's not until August!" I have a hard time with change. At least it's not one of those 30-day months or I would really have lost it.
2) Amy asks (in the comments on the last post) what I say when I'm asked by a random person at a party what I do--writer or editor. It depends on the party--I go to a lot of parties where people are both writers and editors and other artistic people and sympathizers. In *that* crowd I always say writer (if we talk for long, the other will come up though) because they are likely to get it and be nice about it. *However* if the party consists of people of unknown professions, I say "editor" because I'm scared they will be mean to me if I say "writer." That's, mind you, a stupid stereotype of people in the non-obviously creative professions (in fact, most people need to be creative to get their jobs done). However, some people *are* dismissive, and I get really sad when someone, even a random stranger, is mean about my writing. It's like they insulted my significant other--the conversation cannot go on. And although rare, this *has* happened.
Pharmaceutical exec: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer. I had a book of stories come out in 2008.
PE: A writer? Really, so you just sit around and write all day?
Me: Well, actually...
PE: Man, that would be great--sleep in, make coffee, write a little story. No crazy commute, no DVP, no stress..
Me: Well, actually...
PE: (long detailed discussion of PE's exact route to work, timing, possibility of accidents, etc. Seriously, 10 minutes!) A writer, wow, I should get on that. That would be the life. No stress at all! You wouldn't believe what I have to put up with.
Me: You must wish you were dead.
PE: What?
Me: I wish *I* were dead?
PE: What?
Me: Oh, look, the hostess just put out a new kind of cheese. Excuse me.
Ok, I might have made a little tiny bit of that up, but largely, it's accurate, and so very depressing. I'd rather just say "editor" and talk about my bus route to the office. Which makes me, I know, a giant wuss, but it's less stressful by far.
3) Lindsay has a new website too, and it's really pretty. Spring is the time of web renewal, apparently!
More to come soon, I promise--and brace yourself for the big change (I think this is a change I will be able to handle) of URL, coming soon!
RR
Showing posts with label Writers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writers. Show all posts
Monday, May 10, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Linkages
I am mainly recovered from last week's slump, and have various good things to suggest, report, and share:
--If you missed Sunday afternoon's lovely Draft Reading Series 5.2 Salon des Refuses(you poor thing), you can recapture some of the magic by reading Mark's essay on rejection (from the Draft magazine) or looking at AJ's pictures.
--If you are still in hot pursuit of poetic pleasures to celebrate Poetry Month, why not go see the Toronto Poetry Vendors launch their big bright green poetry machine (I have no idea if it's actually green, but it's called Spearmint...), this Sunday at This Ain't the Rosedale Library.
--Another poetic option would be to read my one and only published poem, originally from echolocation, now reposted on Pickle Me This. I am pretty proud that Kerry considered this piece--called "Dead Boyfriend Disco"--worthy of inclusion in her Poetic April. I write perhaps three poems a year, mainly lame ones, so I'm pretty proud that DBD exists, period. Warning: it's really long, probably because I wanted it to be a story.
And yes, I am still reading tomorrow evening, 7pm, at the Free Times Cafe with fine folks like Adrienne Gruber and Andrew Daley. I am looking forward to it because it's going to be fun; you might be looking forward to it being over so I'll stop mentioning it every day!
RR
--If you missed Sunday afternoon's lovely Draft Reading Series 5.2 Salon des Refuses(you poor thing), you can recapture some of the magic by reading Mark's essay on rejection (from the Draft magazine) or looking at AJ's pictures.
--If you are still in hot pursuit of poetic pleasures to celebrate Poetry Month, why not go see the Toronto Poetry Vendors launch their big bright green poetry machine (I have no idea if it's actually green, but it's called Spearmint...), this Sunday at This Ain't the Rosedale Library.
--Another poetic option would be to read my one and only published poem, originally from echolocation, now reposted on Pickle Me This. I am pretty proud that Kerry considered this piece--called "Dead Boyfriend Disco"--worthy of inclusion in her Poetic April. I write perhaps three poems a year, mainly lame ones, so I'm pretty proud that DBD exists, period. Warning: it's really long, probably because I wanted it to be a story.
And yes, I am still reading tomorrow evening, 7pm, at the Free Times Cafe with fine folks like Adrienne Gruber and Andrew Daley. I am looking forward to it because it's going to be fun; you might be looking forward to it being over so I'll stop mentioning it every day!
RR
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Evenements
I went to a wonderful performance last week, a world-renown Canadian artist with a huge and frantically loyal following. I myself am new to this talent, but I attended the event with a group of sincere enthusiasts, who see this fellow on every tour, and buy pretty much everything he puts out as soon as it's available. We went over 40 minutes early, and already there was a sizeable group there, staking out the good seats. When we ran into another group of folks I know, they were even more enthusiastic, and everyone was instantly able to chat about complex details of this guy's work. When he finally took the stage, there was uproarious applause from the standing-room-only crowd and even some hoots at his knowing, witty banter with the crowd.
It was a stellar reading and a fascinating interview, much like many I've seen in Toronto over the past few years. What was different was the massive, wildly enthused crowd--not like I've never seen one, but not to this degree. I don't have much of a spatial eye, but I'm going to guess close to 300 people. Unlike me, most of those weren't just there to see what all the fuss was about--most of these folks had read at least two or three of Kay's 11 novels, which are mainly 400-500 epic tomes with a lot of complicated history, maps and family trees in the frontises, and three years of research behind them. I was pretty impressed at this well-read readership--who says they aren't out there? How inspiring.
It just makes me really happy that such a crowd could gather at the library on a Wednesday for this sort of event, let alone be so incredible gleeful about it. Scott lent me Ysabel by way of GGK introduction, and I really hope that I like it so I count myself among that crowd. And even though it's likely some Rose-coloured readers find that Kay's work is not something you dig, I just thought the event itself was really cool and inspiring.
Some other events this week, which are likely to be equally fun and fascinating though a little less crowded and rowdy:
Tomorrow (aka Sunday) at 3pm, the Draft Reading series (pretty much the only series that I know of on Toronto's lovely east side--can you think of any others?) presents Dani Couture, Michael Bryson, Mark Sampson, Ian Burgham and Ellen S. Jaffe.
Wednesday evening, 7pm--The Free Times Cafe (on college, just west of Bathurst)--the Hear Hear Reading Series presents Adrienne Gruber, Andrew Daley, Julia Tausch, and yours truly. People never hoot during my readings but it would actually probably throw me off a lot if they did.
RR
Rock concert? No, it was a reading: this really happened.
It was last Thursday, at the Toronto reference library, the world-wide launch of Under Heaven by Guy Gavriel Kay, which consisted of a reading and staged interview with Jared Bland.It was a stellar reading and a fascinating interview, much like many I've seen in Toronto over the past few years. What was different was the massive, wildly enthused crowd--not like I've never seen one, but not to this degree. I don't have much of a spatial eye, but I'm going to guess close to 300 people. Unlike me, most of those weren't just there to see what all the fuss was about--most of these folks had read at least two or three of Kay's 11 novels, which are mainly 400-500 epic tomes with a lot of complicated history, maps and family trees in the frontises, and three years of research behind them. I was pretty impressed at this well-read readership--who says they aren't out there? How inspiring.
And, of course, the show was pretty stellar on its own--Kay is an assured reader, and a convivial modest interviewee. Bland's questions came from close reading of not only the book at hand but numerous of Kay's others. The author seemed very pleased to answer such insightful, thoughtful questions (no "What sort of pen do you use?" generica) and the interview seemed more like an extremely well-spoken chat--with 300 people raptly listening (and occasionally hooting) in the background.
Some other events this week, which are likely to be equally fun and fascinating though a little less crowded and rowdy:
Tomorrow (aka Sunday) at 3pm, the Draft Reading series (pretty much the only series that I know of on Toronto's lovely east side--can you think of any others?) presents Dani Couture, Michael Bryson, Mark Sampson, Ian Burgham and Ellen S. Jaffe.
Wednesday evening, 7pm--The Free Times Cafe (on college, just west of Bathurst)--the Hear Hear Reading Series presents Adrienne Gruber, Andrew Daley, Julia Tausch, and yours truly. People never hoot during my readings but it would actually probably throw me off a lot if they did.
RR
Saturday, April 10, 2010
April is Poetry Month
But you knew that, I'm sure, and are probably well into a much-more-organized-than-mine celebration. But nevertheless, I am enjoying the poetic focus right now, reading the John Smith tribute issue of CNQ and Paul Vermeersch's Between the Walls (ok, so I read that at the end of March, but I'm still going to count it). Right now I'm in the middle of Skim by Mariko Tamaki, which is not poetry but a graphic novel, and also absolutely captivating (and funny!) so far (I knew it would be--not sure what took me so long to get to actually reading it!) But after that, it's back to poetry with The Laundromat Essay by Kyle Buckley, another book everyone but me has already read and loved.
Also this week, I'm thinking I'll do a poetry class with the teens. The teacher recommended it, and if I weren't such a chicken it should have already been on the slate. But I'm actually really worried about this, because I am not a poet. I've studied loads poetry, mind, but I very much doubt what the kids want is help with scansion. They would like to know how to write the stuff--or really, since they are teens, they are probably already writing it and just want to get better. But I don't know that I know about that.
I think the easiest way into poetry is the Imagists. It was for me anyway--I think The Red Wheelbarrow was the first poem I really really *felt*--it didn't feel like an inept teen half-guessing at an erudite writer's goals, but like the poem was there to paint a picture in my head and it did that. Anyway, it's a happy memory for me, so I'm gonna try out some of that stuff on them, and use it as an opportunity to talk about finding the single *right* word, not 17 close-enough, out-of-the-thesaurus words (a problem my students are having. Let me know if you have any recommendations, even if they're not from that particular movement--my students aren't too fussy that way, and neither am I.
And one more bit of poetic news is that I received an absolutely lovely illustrated copy of Hillaire Belloc's *Cautionary Tales* as a gift this week, from someone who likely has no idea that it's Poetry Month, but it does nicely suit. I haven't read the whole of it yet, but as soon as I saw the title in the table of contents, of course I read this one (the poet's been dead more than 50 years, so I'm not violating copyright by sharing this, am I?) It's best read *aloud*!
Rebecca
Who slammed Doors for Fun
and Perished Miserably
A trick that everyone abhors
In Little Girls is slamming Doors.
A Wealthy Banker's Little Daughter
Who lived in Palace Green, Bayswater
(By name Rebecca Offendort),
Was given to this Furious Sport.
She would deliberately go
And Slam the door like Billy-Ho!
To make her Uncle Jacob start.
She was not really bad at heart,
But only rather rude and wild:
She was an aggravating child...
It happened that a Marble Bust
Of Abraham was standing just
Above the Door this little Lamb
Had carefully prepared to Slam,
And Down it cam! It knocked her flat!
It laid her out! She looked like that.
*
Her funeral Sermon (which was long
And followed by a Sacred Song)
Mentioned her Virtues, it is true,
But dwelt upon her Vices too,
And showed the Dreadful End of One
Who goes and slams the door for Fun.
*
The children who were brought to hear
The awful Tale from far and near
Were much impressed, and inly swore
They never more would slam the Door.
--As often they had done before.
RR
Also this week, I'm thinking I'll do a poetry class with the teens. The teacher recommended it, and if I weren't such a chicken it should have already been on the slate. But I'm actually really worried about this, because I am not a poet. I've studied loads poetry, mind, but I very much doubt what the kids want is help with scansion. They would like to know how to write the stuff--or really, since they are teens, they are probably already writing it and just want to get better. But I don't know that I know about that.
I think the easiest way into poetry is the Imagists. It was for me anyway--I think The Red Wheelbarrow was the first poem I really really *felt*--it didn't feel like an inept teen half-guessing at an erudite writer's goals, but like the poem was there to paint a picture in my head and it did that. Anyway, it's a happy memory for me, so I'm gonna try out some of that stuff on them, and use it as an opportunity to talk about finding the single *right* word, not 17 close-enough, out-of-the-thesaurus words (a problem my students are having. Let me know if you have any recommendations, even if they're not from that particular movement--my students aren't too fussy that way, and neither am I.
And one more bit of poetic news is that I received an absolutely lovely illustrated copy of Hillaire Belloc's *Cautionary Tales* as a gift this week, from someone who likely has no idea that it's Poetry Month, but it does nicely suit. I haven't read the whole of it yet, but as soon as I saw the title in the table of contents, of course I read this one (the poet's been dead more than 50 years, so I'm not violating copyright by sharing this, am I?) It's best read *aloud*!
Rebecca
Who slammed Doors for Fun
and Perished Miserably
A trick that everyone abhors
In Little Girls is slamming Doors.
A Wealthy Banker's Little Daughter
Who lived in Palace Green, Bayswater
(By name Rebecca Offendort),
Was given to this Furious Sport.
She would deliberately go
And Slam the door like Billy-Ho!
To make her Uncle Jacob start.
She was not really bad at heart,
But only rather rude and wild:
She was an aggravating child...
It happened that a Marble Bust
Of Abraham was standing just
Above the Door this little Lamb
Had carefully prepared to Slam,
And Down it cam! It knocked her flat!
It laid her out! She looked like that.
*
Her funeral Sermon (which was long
And followed by a Sacred Song)
Mentioned her Virtues, it is true,
But dwelt upon her Vices too,
And showed the Dreadful End of One
Who goes and slams the door for Fun.
*
The children who were brought to hear
The awful Tale from far and near
Were much impressed, and inly swore
They never more would slam the Door.
--As often they had done before.
RR
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Lynn Coady solves your problems
Apologies, but I think I'll only be able to manage mini-posts this week--things are a little hectic in my world right now.
But at least I have fun stuff to link you to! I have been enjoying novelist Lynn Coady's "Group Therapy" column in the Globe for a while now--I'm sorry I never read it when the columnist was Claudia Dey--I'm sure she was great, too!
I find it really interesting that us fiction writers (often) build our work around all this insight we allegedly have about how human beings are, but speaking only for myself, I'd be absolutely terrified by, and incompetent at, this gig. It's actual real problems that people send in to the site, occasionally serious ones. But Coady seems to be able to parlay her insight into fiction people into insight into real people, and actually be helpful.
The problems are sometimes a bit sad, but generally they don't pick blues-song type disasters. Then readers write in with their advice and Coady counters with her own. She's funny, very very funny, but she's also pretty insightful and not-mean even when the problems are inane or have obvious solutions.
So maybe you want to tune into her Valentine's Day live chat today at 1pm EST (and if you know what EST means, I wish you would tell me--is that Toronto?) You can write in with your romantic problems (not that you would have romantic problems) ahead of time or during the chat, or be like me and just read it after to marvel at the wisdom.
RR
But at least I have fun stuff to link you to! I have been enjoying novelist Lynn Coady's "Group Therapy" column in the Globe for a while now--I'm sorry I never read it when the columnist was Claudia Dey--I'm sure she was great, too!
I find it really interesting that us fiction writers (often) build our work around all this insight we allegedly have about how human beings are, but speaking only for myself, I'd be absolutely terrified by, and incompetent at, this gig. It's actual real problems that people send in to the site, occasionally serious ones. But Coady seems to be able to parlay her insight into fiction people into insight into real people, and actually be helpful.
The problems are sometimes a bit sad, but generally they don't pick blues-song type disasters. Then readers write in with their advice and Coady counters with her own. She's funny, very very funny, but she's also pretty insightful and not-mean even when the problems are inane or have obvious solutions.
So maybe you want to tune into her Valentine's Day live chat today at 1pm EST (and if you know what EST means, I wish you would tell me--is that Toronto?) You can write in with your romantic problems (not that you would have romantic problems) ahead of time or during the chat, or be like me and just read it after to marvel at the wisdom.
RR
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Net Noise
Twitter
I've been told that I'm bored by Twitter because I refuse to accept it as it's own medium, and keep waiting for it to be Facebook or a blog (witness the above refusal to call Twitter posts "tweets"--I just can't anymore). Even those Twitter friends of mine who Twitter amusingly, if they (used to) have a blog I keep wishing they'd expand the point (you know who you are).
Someone said that I would like Twitter better if I followed celebrities, and when I said I don't know any celebrities, said I didn't have to. Apparently Twitter is less like Facebook, where you friend people you know in real life in order to keep up with daily adventures and thoughts and share your own (well, that's what I'm doing on Facebook) and more like a blog, where you offer thoughts and opinions to the wide world o'strangers, and see if there's anyone out there who is interested in them.
Someone said that I would like Twitter better if I followed celebrities, and when I said I don't know any celebrities, said I didn't have to. Apparently Twitter is less like Facebook, where you friend people you know in real life in order to keep up with daily adventures and thoughts and share your own (well, that's what I'm doing on Facebook) and more like a blog, where you offer thoughts and opinions to the wide world o'strangers, and see if there's anyone out there who is interested in them.
So I'm trying, and have a (very) few celebrity Twitter recommendations of Twitter feeds you might enjoy. I like the tiny stories of Arjun Basu (although they often strike me as installments of one larger story). I also follow novelist/short-story writer/playwright AL Kennedy, who is very wry and funny about literary celebrity in Britain (she's always unwell, on a train, about to go speak to a conference of people for reasons she does not understand.) And I'm not even sure how this happened, but for a while now I've been following someone named Nerdy Girl, who turns out to be the publisher of This Magazine, Lisa Whittington-Hill, and also is hilarious.
Blogs
I'm still reading Penelope Trunk's blog. I know, I shouldn't, but I think it fills the gap in my life that people with TVs fill with reality shows about sex rehab and how renovating your house can wreck your marriage. She's such a self-righteous, self-important train-wreck, and yet she's not stupid and occasionally makes good points. For example, you could read certain bits of her post of frugality and be reminded of how we all choose our own financial constraints--those who consider life not worth living without a two-car garage will be stuck paying for that, and will have to work accordingly. Those content with a driveway--or a bike--will have more flexibility in their career options and/or more discretionary income.
Great points, and inspiring for those who feel their jobs might become too much at some point (hi!) But then she goes off on how what really matters is having household help so you can devote yourself to work, as well as a flash car to impress clients, and you realize she's a lunatic capitalist. But it still makes for fun reading.
There's better reading afoot in the blogosphere, however. Have you seen Mark Sampson's new(ish) Free-range Reading blog? It's got book reviews and lit news, but a bit unusual for a lit blog is that there's been a couple really interesting posts about journalism (which MS is when he's not busy being a novelist). It's a whole other kind of writing, that journalism thing, and kind of cool to get to read about it from the inside. Also, naturally, he reads good books and writes about them well!
On a more mundanely self-absorbed note, does anyone know how the "next blog" button (up at the top of the screen here) works? I never even noticed it before this week, when the statistics on this site started to say it was referring a lot of people through here. My first thought was that maybe the blog behind me in the queue had gone way up in traffic, but there is no "last blog" button, so I can't go there. Also, I've found that hitting "next blog" several times from the same blog leads you to different ones, so I think my theory is fundamentally false. But I don't have a better one--do you?
RR
Great points, and inspiring for those who feel their jobs might become too much at some point (hi!) But then she goes off on how what really matters is having household help so you can devote yourself to work, as well as a flash car to impress clients, and you realize she's a lunatic capitalist. But it still makes for fun reading.
There's better reading afoot in the blogosphere, however. Have you seen Mark Sampson's new(ish) Free-range Reading blog? It's got book reviews and lit news, but a bit unusual for a lit blog is that there's been a couple really interesting posts about journalism (which MS is when he's not busy being a novelist). It's a whole other kind of writing, that journalism thing, and kind of cool to get to read about it from the inside. Also, naturally, he reads good books and writes about them well!
On a more mundanely self-absorbed note, does anyone know how the "next blog" button (up at the top of the screen here) works? I never even noticed it before this week, when the statistics on this site started to say it was referring a lot of people through here. My first thought was that maybe the blog behind me in the queue had gone way up in traffic, but there is no "last blog" button, so I can't go there. Also, I've found that hitting "next blog" several times from the same blog leads you to different ones, so I think my theory is fundamentally false. But I don't have a better one--do you?
RR
Friday, January 29, 2010
Lit Bits
1) JD Salinger, literary hero of many youths (including this one) has died. I haven't read a lot of the coverage, but I have seen a few references to the fellow as the author of "just one novel," and while I loved The Catcher in the Rye as much as anyone (so much!), I am a bit miffed for Franny and Zooey and Nine Stories (one of my lifetime fave short-story collections), and even Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenters and Seymour: an Intorduction, the first half of which I did truly enjoy (and the second...oh dear).
But I can't feel quite as sad as I think I ought to about the passing of such a great author. Of course, I didn't know him personally (though my cousin did meet him once in the library at Dartmouth, a fact I always try to seem unimpressed about, and fail). It's more that I haven't been reading straight along with him--he stopped publishing decades ago, and I haven't read any Salinger for the first time since my teens. Unlike, say, Mr. Updike, we weren't moving along together.
There is a bit of excitement going around that now all his output for the last many years will be revealed and published. I'm not sure that would happen, and anyway, though I greatly hope for something that can stun me like For Esme, with Love and Squalor, I fear a reprise of Hapworth 16, 1924, the last of his published work (in the New Yorker in 1965--that same cousin photocopied an old library copy). I hate that story, though in googling it just now I found some people like. Who knew? It is deeply boring to me. So I am worried that now lots of books will come out by Salinger and I will read them and not like them and be disappointed.
2) From a literary end to a literary beginning: I went with blogger and friend Kerry Clare and her daughter Harriet to Mables Fables in celebration of Family Literacy Week (which is, as it turns out, is not real--it is only Family Literacy Day except on Kerry's blog. But I am still going to most my family-literacy post today or possibly tomorrow, in solidariy!
*Anyway,* our fieldtrip was wonderful, prefaced by cake and punctuated by the stroller blowing down the sidewalk past the store window. Even if you aren't particularly interested in seeing photos of a bookstore (er, but why *not*?) you should click on Kerry's link to see pictures of Harriet, a very lovely baby with great, if over-literal, taste in books!
RR
But I can't feel quite as sad as I think I ought to about the passing of such a great author. Of course, I didn't know him personally (though my cousin did meet him once in the library at Dartmouth, a fact I always try to seem unimpressed about, and fail). It's more that I haven't been reading straight along with him--he stopped publishing decades ago, and I haven't read any Salinger for the first time since my teens. Unlike, say, Mr. Updike, we weren't moving along together.
There is a bit of excitement going around that now all his output for the last many years will be revealed and published. I'm not sure that would happen, and anyway, though I greatly hope for something that can stun me like For Esme, with Love and Squalor, I fear a reprise of Hapworth 16, 1924, the last of his published work (in the New Yorker in 1965--that same cousin photocopied an old library copy). I hate that story, though in googling it just now I found some people like. Who knew? It is deeply boring to me. So I am worried that now lots of books will come out by Salinger and I will read them and not like them and be disappointed.
2) From a literary end to a literary beginning: I went with blogger and friend Kerry Clare and her daughter Harriet to Mables Fables in celebration of Family Literacy Week (which is, as it turns out, is not real--it is only Family Literacy Day except on Kerry's blog. But I am still going to most my family-literacy post today or possibly tomorrow, in solidariy!
*Anyway,* our fieldtrip was wonderful, prefaced by cake and punctuated by the stroller blowing down the sidewalk past the store window. Even if you aren't particularly interested in seeing photos of a bookstore (er, but why *not*?) you should click on Kerry's link to see pictures of Harriet, a very lovely baby with great, if over-literal, taste in books!
RR
Friday, January 22, 2010
Bits
I have no major theme or connective tissue for today, just a little things I've been thinking of and would like to share with you. Please do not attempt to take them as a whole; they certainly do not come to more than the sum of their parts. I'll try to visually separate everything on the page for you.
--------------------
I like rules. Maybe more than a so-called creative person should or is expected to, I enjoy being told what to do. I gleefully tell potential employers that I take direction well, and I really mean it. My friend P calls this my desire to "outsource my thinking," and she's spot-on--I appreciate it when someone will bother to form a plan or opinion where I have none--saves me the trouble, and provides the illusion of an ordered universe. Obvious, this won't work well with things that matter a lot to me (ie., my writing, my clothes, what I'm going to eat), but I am really appreciative of advice (or imperitives) on such low-stakes issues as where to put the butter dish, when to send thank-you notes, and where I may wear my hat.
Yep, I'm an etiquette junky. When I was a tiny, I somehow picked up the Emily Post Book of Etiquette a great aunt had given my mother for high-school graduation (in a much much different edition than pictured here). And I've been a lifelong devote to her newspaper columns, and now the family (there's dozens of'em) have a website. Lately, when I've been feeling blue or harried or as if the world just weren't up to the white glove test, I've been turning to the Post family's Etiquette Daily blog, and it's been making me feel better. I thought I'd share my story, and the link, in case it might make you feel better, too.
--------------------
Kerry Clare wrote this amazing post I think you should read, called Escape the Ego. Don't be alarmed by the fact that it seems to be about a book called Eat Pray Love--I'm not sure what that is either, but I'm wary enough of the title that I'm not going to Google you a link (sorry!). Anyway, the post isn't really about that book--it's about why we read, and write, and what happens when we do. And it contains this beautiful paragraph:
"...I read, I think, to break it down and enable me to see the world in miniature, as manageable. Which, however conversely, is to be able to look at the big picture and regard it all at once, perhaps for the very first time. Fiction is a study in the hypothetical, a test-run for the actual. An experiment. What if the world was this? And we can watch the wheels turn and this bit of sample life run its course to discover. And I don't mean that literature is smaller than life, no. Literature is life, but it's just life you can hold in your hand, stick in your backpack, and I'm reassured by that, because the world is messy and sprawling, but if you take it down to the level of story, I am capable of some kind of grasp. Of beginning to understand what this world is, how to be in it."
To which I say, yes. Also, wow.
--------------------
Paul Quarrington has died, another hard blow in a rough week for CanLit. I hadn't, in truth, read much of Quarrington's work, but I was a big fan of his live performances--a great reader, a great speaker, a surprising good singer (I saw his band, The Pork Belly Futures play in Winnipeg because I was all alone and it was either that or stare at my hotel-room wall--and they were brilliant!!) He had a wonderful big warm presence, and an off-the-cuff joy in performing. I actually went to so many Quarrington events, and just ran into him randomly at so many litsy things, that he started smiling and saying hi to me, even though he had no idea who I was. I was in the process of working up the nerve to introduce myself, and now I am not going to get to do it. Which is sad. But I will be reading the books.
------------------
And so ends another miscellaneous week. Hope this finds you well!
RR
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I like rules. Maybe more than a so-called creative person should or is expected to, I enjoy being told what to do. I gleefully tell potential employers that I take direction well, and I really mean it. My friend P calls this my desire to "outsource my thinking," and she's spot-on--I appreciate it when someone will bother to form a plan or opinion where I have none--saves me the trouble, and provides the illusion of an ordered universe. Obvious, this won't work well with things that matter a lot to me (ie., my writing, my clothes, what I'm going to eat), but I am really appreciative of advice (or imperitives) on such low-stakes issues as where to put the butter dish, when to send thank-you notes, and where I may wear my hat.
Yep, I'm an etiquette junky. When I was a tiny, I somehow picked up the Emily Post Book of Etiquette a great aunt had given my mother for high-school graduation (in a much much different edition than pictured here). And I've been a lifelong devote to her newspaper columns, and now the family (there's dozens of'em) have a website. Lately, when I've been feeling blue or harried or as if the world just weren't up to the white glove test, I've been turning to the Post family's Etiquette Daily blog, and it's been making me feel better. I thought I'd share my story, and the link, in case it might make you feel better, too.
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Kerry Clare wrote this amazing post I think you should read, called Escape the Ego. Don't be alarmed by the fact that it seems to be about a book called Eat Pray Love--I'm not sure what that is either, but I'm wary enough of the title that I'm not going to Google you a link (sorry!). Anyway, the post isn't really about that book--it's about why we read, and write, and what happens when we do. And it contains this beautiful paragraph:
"...I read, I think, to break it down and enable me to see the world in miniature, as manageable. Which, however conversely, is to be able to look at the big picture and regard it all at once, perhaps for the very first time. Fiction is a study in the hypothetical, a test-run for the actual. An experiment. What if the world was this? And we can watch the wheels turn and this bit of sample life run its course to discover. And I don't mean that literature is smaller than life, no. Literature is life, but it's just life you can hold in your hand, stick in your backpack, and I'm reassured by that, because the world is messy and sprawling, but if you take it down to the level of story, I am capable of some kind of grasp. Of beginning to understand what this world is, how to be in it."
To which I say, yes. Also, wow.
--------------------
Paul Quarrington has died, another hard blow in a rough week for CanLit. I hadn't, in truth, read much of Quarrington's work, but I was a big fan of his live performances--a great reader, a great speaker, a surprising good singer (I saw his band, The Pork Belly Futures play in Winnipeg because I was all alone and it was either that or stare at my hotel-room wall--and they were brilliant!!) He had a wonderful big warm presence, and an off-the-cuff joy in performing. I actually went to so many Quarrington events, and just ran into him randomly at so many litsy things, that he started smiling and saying hi to me, even though he had no idea who I was. I was in the process of working up the nerve to introduce myself, and now I am not going to get to do it. Which is sad. But I will be reading the books.
------------------
And so ends another miscellaneous week. Hope this finds you well!
RR
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Russell Banks On Research
I am ashamed to admit Russell Banks's essay "On Research" in the PEN anthology Writing Life might be the first thing of his I've ever read. But clearly, I should take a look at his novels, since his views on writing and research so brilliantly express things I've been failing to articulate, even to myself, for years:
"Write about what you know, we're constantly told. But we must not stop there. Start with what you know, maybe, but use it to let you write about what you don't know.
"The best fiction writers seem to be great extrapolators; they start with a cue, a clue, an iceberg tip, and are able to extrapoloate from that the hero's entire soliloquy, the motive for the crime, the entire iceberg. How does Joyce Carol Oates, for instance, know so much about the sexual secrets of lusty, irresponsible, working-class white men? Or of African-American, inner-city male adolescents, for that matter? I mean, come on! ... She's got to be extrapolating all that information from some small bit of only marginally related information close to home, conjuring a an entire world of quotidian data, speech, nightmoves, anxieties, sweaty desires, and hormonal after-effects, drawing it out of what...? A pair of men's undershorts flopping in the wind on a backyard laundry line, glimpsed by her from the passenger's seat of a car speeding down the New Jersey Turnpike? I suspect so.
..."As a fiction writer, one has no need to master a subject, to become as expert on it, or to report or otherwise testify on it later. In fact, quite the opposite. Because if I had done as much research to master a subject as would be required of a scholar...then it's very likely that my novel would have died aborning. Its form and structure would have served no puropse but to organize data more or less coherently; its characters would have been case studies instead of complex, contradictory humany beings; and its themes would have led me, not the acquistion of a comprehensive vicion of the larger world, but to a narrow, parochial didacticism and/or ideology."
As they say in the funny papers, wowsers. This creeping tendency of research to take over a text, to enslave characters it was meant to illuminate and make the plot into a mechanism for someone to walk into a room and demand, "Can someone explain this crazy proportional representation thing to me one more time?"--well, it's enough to make a devoted fiction writer refuse to write about anything she didn't make up entirely inside her head, just to keep safe from an academic onslaught.
But that's not how inspiration for fiction works. Sometimes the story one most desperately needs to tell takes its spark in the dubiously real world, and we have to go to the material--learn the history, listen to the accents, memorize the map and/or order off the menu--out of respect for the story that needs telling. Banks is somewhat coy in insisting that that sort of work is *not* research, merely getting the story right. But whatever you call it, sometimes you need to do it.
I think an antipathy to fiction that's been made submissive to fact is a reason some of us are not wild about most historical fiction. I don't think that anyone would discur that any novel that makes its story, characters, setting, and world live and breathe and affect the reader is a superlative achievement, whether it's set in the past or future, Liberia or the author's living room (I am thinking, actually, about Chester Brown's Louis Riel). Who doesn't want to read that book? Some miss the mark a bit, and thought I don't myself dig it, I do understand why even second-rate historical fiction is popular: for those who feel, like an Austen heroine's mother, that reading novels without "learning anything" is a little indulgent, the historical novel as accessible textbook is not a bad bargain.
But I don't do that, myself--I suspect that my reach is not that far, or at least, not in that direction. My fiction strays very rarely from the world I see while going about my daily life. But even then, it's important to get it right, to study the facts that anchor the story, so there are no gaps for characters to slip through, no inaccuracies or incongruities to jar the reader. Mr. Banks can call that work what he likes, but research is fine with me. So, in just a sec, I'm going to gather up my taxiways map, my laptop, and my TTC pass, and head for Pearson International. It's no grand project, an afternoon at the airport, but it's the story I desperately need to tell.
RR
"Write about what you know, we're constantly told. But we must not stop there. Start with what you know, maybe, but use it to let you write about what you don't know.
"The best fiction writers seem to be great extrapolators; they start with a cue, a clue, an iceberg tip, and are able to extrapoloate from that the hero's entire soliloquy, the motive for the crime, the entire iceberg. How does Joyce Carol Oates, for instance, know so much about the sexual secrets of lusty, irresponsible, working-class white men? Or of African-American, inner-city male adolescents, for that matter? I mean, come on! ... She's got to be extrapolating all that information from some small bit of only marginally related information close to home, conjuring a an entire world of quotidian data, speech, nightmoves, anxieties, sweaty desires, and hormonal after-effects, drawing it out of what...? A pair of men's undershorts flopping in the wind on a backyard laundry line, glimpsed by her from the passenger's seat of a car speeding down the New Jersey Turnpike? I suspect so.
..."As a fiction writer, one has no need to master a subject, to become as expert on it, or to report or otherwise testify on it later. In fact, quite the opposite. Because if I had done as much research to master a subject as would be required of a scholar...then it's very likely that my novel would have died aborning. Its form and structure would have served no puropse but to organize data more or less coherently; its characters would have been case studies instead of complex, contradictory humany beings; and its themes would have led me, not the acquistion of a comprehensive vicion of the larger world, but to a narrow, parochial didacticism and/or ideology."
As they say in the funny papers, wowsers. This creeping tendency of research to take over a text, to enslave characters it was meant to illuminate and make the plot into a mechanism for someone to walk into a room and demand, "Can someone explain this crazy proportional representation thing to me one more time?"--well, it's enough to make a devoted fiction writer refuse to write about anything she didn't make up entirely inside her head, just to keep safe from an academic onslaught.
But that's not how inspiration for fiction works. Sometimes the story one most desperately needs to tell takes its spark in the dubiously real world, and we have to go to the material--learn the history, listen to the accents, memorize the map and/or order off the menu--out of respect for the story that needs telling. Banks is somewhat coy in insisting that that sort of work is *not* research, merely getting the story right. But whatever you call it, sometimes you need to do it.
I think an antipathy to fiction that's been made submissive to fact is a reason some of us are not wild about most historical fiction. I don't think that anyone would discur that any novel that makes its story, characters, setting, and world live and breathe and affect the reader is a superlative achievement, whether it's set in the past or future, Liberia or the author's living room (I am thinking, actually, about Chester Brown's Louis Riel). Who doesn't want to read that book? Some miss the mark a bit, and thought I don't myself dig it, I do understand why even second-rate historical fiction is popular: for those who feel, like an Austen heroine's mother, that reading novels without "learning anything" is a little indulgent, the historical novel as accessible textbook is not a bad bargain.
But I don't do that, myself--I suspect that my reach is not that far, or at least, not in that direction. My fiction strays very rarely from the world I see while going about my daily life. But even then, it's important to get it right, to study the facts that anchor the story, so there are no gaps for characters to slip through, no inaccuracies or incongruities to jar the reader. Mr. Banks can call that work what he likes, but research is fine with me. So, in just a sec, I'm going to gather up my taxiways map, my laptop, and my TTC pass, and head for Pearson International. It's no grand project, an afternoon at the airport, but it's the story I desperately need to tell.
RR
Thursday, November 26, 2009
This week in review
Of course, this week is not technically over yet, but rather a lot has already happened. I think it was enough to occupy an entire week if it was spread out, and I am rather hoping nothing further will happen until next. Thus, I dare to pre-emptively summarize:
Tuesday: I attended the Writers' Trust Awards. It is a pretty glitzy event, with roaming waiters and lots of excited chat before the ceremony. At the ceremony, the Journey Prize was the first to be awarded, which meant co-presenter Anita Chong and I could get our moment of stress out of the way early and enjoy the show! I had perhaps 200 words to say, and really people just wanted to know who won, but I was very worried about flubbing it, or not even making it to the podium because I had spotted a gap between the top of stairs and the stage where I could easily wedge my foot.
But nothing happened like that, and I was able to present the winner, Yatsuko Thanh, for her story Floating Like the Dead with no trouble. What an honour to do so, and what an incredible story. I was charmed by how sincerely stunned Ms. Thanh seemed, and was really glad I got a chance to meet her. And the other two incredible finalists, Dave Margoshes for "The Wisdom of Solomon" and Daniel Griffin for "The Last Great Works of Alvin Cale." An evening like this one really makes me feel alive to all the wonder and diversity of wonders in CanLit.
I was also happy to see that Annabel Lyon took the fiction prize though I have not read the celebrated book, *The Golden Mean*. But if my intense love of her first book, Oxygen is any indication, I should. And I was pleased to hear that, though Ms. Lyon was also pretty stunned by the win, she remembered to mention in her speech all those smaller literary magazines where she got her start, and to please for no further cuts to arts funding in Canada.
Wednesday: On Wednesday morning I went out to University of Toronto Scarborogh to do a guest lecture in my fellow UofT Creative Writing alumni Daniel Tysdal's short story class. I did, as promised read the end of a story, "Massacre Day." When I told the students that I would read the last three pages of that piece, I had the extraordinary experience of watching a roomful of students pull out copies of my book and prepare to follow along.
But that extraordinariness did not all compare with the level discussion after my reading and (very brief) talk. The students were reading intently and speaking insightfully, not just about my work (although I appreciated that very much) but about everything they laid their eyes and minds on. What a fantastic way to spend a morning.
That evening, was the Biblioasis fall poetry party, featuring Zachariah Wells, Shane Neilson and Robyn Sarah. The non-present presence of a 4th poet was Wayne Clifford, whose work was read by all three of the others to make up for his absense. It was really cool to get three interpretations of one voice.
Also last night, I got to meet London, Ontario, novelist A.J. Somerset who just won the Metcalf-Rooke Award. There's a lot of literary winning going on this week!
Today, is the real American Thanksgiving, I'm pretty sure, so I am wishing you all a happy one of those--I remain as Thankful I was last week, on fake Thanksgiving. Also today, due to a minor incident, I was without tights for a portion of the day, and it was actually warm enough that I didn't mind dreadfully, temperature-wise. The upside of global warming. What was strange is that I felt like a total scandal, bare knees and nothing under my dress but panties, when of course that is how I spent the entire summer. I think winter makes me puritanical.
I also spent part of today talking books with Kerry Clare while I lay on the floor eating scones and playing with her baby daughter. That was, as you might imagine, delightful.
To continued, low-impact delight.
RR
Tuesday: I attended the Writers' Trust Awards. It is a pretty glitzy event, with roaming waiters and lots of excited chat before the ceremony. At the ceremony, the Journey Prize was the first to be awarded, which meant co-presenter Anita Chong and I could get our moment of stress out of the way early and enjoy the show! I had perhaps 200 words to say, and really people just wanted to know who won, but I was very worried about flubbing it, or not even making it to the podium because I had spotted a gap between the top of stairs and the stage where I could easily wedge my foot.
But nothing happened like that, and I was able to present the winner, Yatsuko Thanh, for her story Floating Like the Dead with no trouble. What an honour to do so, and what an incredible story. I was charmed by how sincerely stunned Ms. Thanh seemed, and was really glad I got a chance to meet her. And the other two incredible finalists, Dave Margoshes for "The Wisdom of Solomon" and Daniel Griffin for "The Last Great Works of Alvin Cale." An evening like this one really makes me feel alive to all the wonder and diversity of wonders in CanLit.
I was also happy to see that Annabel Lyon took the fiction prize though I have not read the celebrated book, *The Golden Mean*. But if my intense love of her first book, Oxygen is any indication, I should. And I was pleased to hear that, though Ms. Lyon was also pretty stunned by the win, she remembered to mention in her speech all those smaller literary magazines where she got her start, and to please for no further cuts to arts funding in Canada.
Wednesday: On Wednesday morning I went out to University of Toronto Scarborogh to do a guest lecture in my fellow UofT Creative Writing alumni Daniel Tysdal's short story class. I did, as promised read the end of a story, "Massacre Day." When I told the students that I would read the last three pages of that piece, I had the extraordinary experience of watching a roomful of students pull out copies of my book and prepare to follow along.
But that extraordinariness did not all compare with the level discussion after my reading and (very brief) talk. The students were reading intently and speaking insightfully, not just about my work (although I appreciated that very much) but about everything they laid their eyes and minds on. What a fantastic way to spend a morning.
That evening, was the Biblioasis fall poetry party, featuring Zachariah Wells, Shane Neilson and Robyn Sarah. The non-present presence of a 4th poet was Wayne Clifford, whose work was read by all three of the others to make up for his absense. It was really cool to get three interpretations of one voice.
Also last night, I got to meet London, Ontario, novelist A.J. Somerset who just won the Metcalf-Rooke Award. There's a lot of literary winning going on this week!
Today, is the real American Thanksgiving, I'm pretty sure, so I am wishing you all a happy one of those--I remain as Thankful I was last week, on fake Thanksgiving. Also today, due to a minor incident, I was without tights for a portion of the day, and it was actually warm enough that I didn't mind dreadfully, temperature-wise. The upside of global warming. What was strange is that I felt like a total scandal, bare knees and nothing under my dress but panties, when of course that is how I spent the entire summer. I think winter makes me puritanical.
I also spent part of today talking books with Kerry Clare while I lay on the floor eating scones and playing with her baby daughter. That was, as you might imagine, delightful.
To continued, low-impact delight.
RR
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Professional Interview #6: Martha, Contract Writer
This was my first tape-recorded interview; thanks to Scott for the loan of the recorder. Things I learned this time: that it is more interesting to look at the interviewee instead of at the screen/page, that conversation flows better when you don't have to stop to scribble things down, but that transcription is no fun. But this interview was fun and Martha's experiences are fascinating. I hope you enjoy! [I'm in bold, she's in Roman.]
Can you tell us your job title?
At that time, I was the contract writer; that was what was on my invoices.
And that was what you saw in the job posting?
There wasn't a job posting. I was actually approached because I had worked on a previous institutional history for OISE, which is the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, because they were celebrating their 100th year. So I did some writing, a lot of research, fact-checking, sourced images…was on the editorial board. [The book project people] had actually looked at that publication and they liked that and then approached me to work on their history.
Ok, then, go back a step: how did you get to the OISE project?
I started when I was still a student at UofT, in the Information Studies degree (with a specialization in Archival Science) and basically I knew a lot of people because I wanted to see what the potential jobs were like. I was friendly with one of the archivists at UofT and someone approached her to work on the OISE project, and she said, “Well, Martha’s really cool and really keen. Why don’t you talk to her?”
I first started doing…a file transfer to the UofT Archives from the Faculty, and then while I was there, they started working on their centennial and they said, “Hey! Why don’t we just have Martha stay and she could do some research for us, and sort some photos, because she’s an archivist and that would really be helpful to have onboard.” Then, because I was so interested in the whole book process, they said, “Ok, why don’t you be on the editorial board and write some of the in-between pieces.” So I did that.
Did you love it?
I did. I really really loved it. Because it was a huge team. The book was actually a compilation of a whole bunch of faculty members’ experiences there over the hundred years. So I got to work with them, and edit all of their personal accounts and then try to fill in a lot of the blanks for someone who didn’t really know a lot about the faculty. So I was learning a lot about various experiences and the overall process and it was nice to be a part of that.
So that was a team book?
Yes, I was a “contributer,” with a lot of other contributers.
I see! So, for the subsequent project, The Michener Institute, 1958 to 2008, the First 50 Years, was that your book?
Basically, yes. When I started, I was the only one with book experience as I was the only who had actually done a book before, and I had done one. I was on the Board with a whole bunch of other people, including an institutional historian who had done a thesis on the beginnings of the Institute because it had complete changed how medical technologists were trained in Ontario… He had done a chapter, [which] was just supposed to be like a little pamphlet. I looked at it and I said, “Wow, this could be something really big, this could be a really great story.”
I thought that it needed an outsider’s voice, because it read like they were talking to themselves, and I knew that’s not what they wanted. They wanted it to be something that other people would find interesting. So I told them that I thought the tone needed to change and that it needed to be expanded, and then my roles expanded.
I gave them a draft of what I thought could become a chapter. And from there, I worked with the institutional historian who knew a lot of the details of the place. I would take his ideas and his research and try to make the material a bit more accessible [and] tell a bit more of a coherent story.
Was it at this point that it became your full-time job?
Yes. I was working on it on the weekends for a few months, while was working [at another job]… So I did some work on it on the bus. But when I finished that contract …I worked full-time on this for…six or seven months.
Did they give you an office at the Michener?
No. There was a little desk with a computer behind some books in the library where I worked a little, but mainly I would do my research and then I would go home or somewhere else [to write].
Can you describe a typical day during that six months? Or was there a typical day?
There weren’t very many typical days. Most days, I would try to get up and have some sort of a normal schedule so that I didn’t get off the project, because I had to learn a lot to make this [text] make sense not only to me but to someone who has very little understanding. Most mornings I would do a little bit of research. Then if I had an interview with someone, I would go do the interview, then come back and transcribe. And then after a research day, the next day I would try to do a lot of writing.
We should talk about the interview process, since the reason I got interested in interviewing you/Martha is because she/you know(s) how to do this professionally. So I would like to talk about how you set them up and what your process would be to prepare, and then how it would go.
Because [the book covered only] 50 years, a lot of the people whose roles were important in the growth the institution, [the current staff] still knew them, or they were still working there. So it was very easy for me to find people to talk to…. Once I found out what they did, I had to do some research on what that actually meant, so that I could ask more intelligent questions, and so that I would understand the progression of programs and the expansion of the student body and all that kind of stuff. And then, most of the time I would go to where they worked…. They were practitioners in hospitals and that sort of thing and I really wanted to see what that felt like….I spent a lot of time in hospitals.
Usually, I tried to divide the interviews between things that I felt I knew already and things that I knew I didn’t know [but] that they would have expertise in. I wanted to get some specific answers, but I also wanted to get their impressions of the place and of the profession, because that’s what I really wanted to bring to the book. Those sort of personal anecdotes are sometimes really hard to get.
How structured were your notes going in to the interview?
I definitely had a list, because I wanted there to be some consistency across the interviews. There were 5 questions that I asked of everyone, hoping that there would be some themes that would emerge from that. But I also knew that there were specifics that I had to ask and I would list those. Then I would have a separate list of “probatives” where I hoped they would get off on a bit more of a tangent with their personal feelings.
How amenable were people to this process?
Because I also had a recorder sometimes people said, “I will tell you that when you turn this off.” And I said, “Ok, but you still know that as part of the transcript that’s going to be in there.” And they still said, “Yes, that’s fine, I just don’t want this on [tape].” And I said, “Well, am I allowed to use it?” … There were a few people [that said no], but after I had heard what they didn’t want recorded…I was able to say, “So how did that affect this other big thing,” and then I was allowed to use that material. I really had to try to scooch around it. But it was fun to hear about those kind of problematic relationships within the institutions, which every institution has, it’s not a new thing.
Historical gossip.
Exactly. I actually feel like having those sorts of stories helped even if I couldn’t use them word for word. They really helped shape how I felt about the project.
…Did you have oversight straight along, or did you complete a draft and then show it?
There were a lot of [chapter] drafts and each draft went to the Board. There were about 6 people on the board. Then when it all came together, we looked at as a complete thing and understood where there were pieces missing.
So it was a collaborative effort?
Yes. I think that it had to be, not because of the writing but because of the topic, because it was supposed to be something that really speaks to the institution, and those who are involved in the institution know the political issues, know what their future plans are. This needed to fit in with those ideals, which I wouldn’t know. So it had to be collaborative at the end, definitely.
But was it treated as your project that they were helping you make good?
No. I think that that’s OK for what they wanted, I don’t think that that’s the ideal for moving forward with a project like this. I think it’s important [when working on] a history, for the people who were actually involved in that history to step back and let the story be told from someone outside’s perspective. I think they gain something more from that. Again, I think there’s a tendency to talk to yourself and talk to your colleagues and not want to branch out at all. I think that they wanted to branch but they didn’t know how… So at the end it became a bit more, “This is our community and we want to keep it this way,” instead of saying, “This is a really great story about the history of Toronto, the history of Ontario, and of the profession in general, and it should be known.”
So, do you have plans for next time? Would you like to do another project?
Yes, yes, I would love to do another project. Because I know all the pitfalls: that I really need to stand up for myself as the writer as opposed to just part of a team, because I think that the writer is separate. Although there definitely needs to be that collaboration at some point, the writer should be in charge of that creative process. It’s really difficult to have a successful and real creative work when there are so many people giving their opinions all of the time.
So, when this project was winding down, I know you went on to something very different, what were you thinking jobwise, careerwise?
I really wanted there to be another book project after that, so I actually waited a few months after the project was finished, because it was quite hectic near the end…But then there was nothing coming, so then I had to get a real job. [laughter] So now I’m a fulltime archivist.
Can you put a lot of the lessons you learned in that project into the work that you do now?
Ye-es. But it really makes me want to go back and do more books. Because I feel that it takes my archival training and my writing tendencies and creates this lovely little relationship between them. There are so many really neat true stories to be told, that can be told in a creative and interesting way, and I really love to do that.
RR
Can you tell us your job title?
At that time, I was the contract writer; that was what was on my invoices.
And that was what you saw in the job posting?
There wasn't a job posting. I was actually approached because I had worked on a previous institutional history for OISE, which is the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, because they were celebrating their 100th year. So I did some writing, a lot of research, fact-checking, sourced images…was on the editorial board. [The book project people] had actually looked at that publication and they liked that and then approached me to work on their history.
Ok, then, go back a step: how did you get to the OISE project?
I started when I was still a student at UofT, in the Information Studies degree (with a specialization in Archival Science) and basically I knew a lot of people because I wanted to see what the potential jobs were like. I was friendly with one of the archivists at UofT and someone approached her to work on the OISE project, and she said, “Well, Martha’s really cool and really keen. Why don’t you talk to her?”
I first started doing…a file transfer to the UofT Archives from the Faculty, and then while I was there, they started working on their centennial and they said, “Hey! Why don’t we just have Martha stay and she could do some research for us, and sort some photos, because she’s an archivist and that would really be helpful to have onboard.” Then, because I was so interested in the whole book process, they said, “Ok, why don’t you be on the editorial board and write some of the in-between pieces.” So I did that.
Did you love it?
I did. I really really loved it. Because it was a huge team. The book was actually a compilation of a whole bunch of faculty members’ experiences there over the hundred years. So I got to work with them, and edit all of their personal accounts and then try to fill in a lot of the blanks for someone who didn’t really know a lot about the faculty. So I was learning a lot about various experiences and the overall process and it was nice to be a part of that.
So that was a team book?
Yes, I was a “contributer,” with a lot of other contributers.
I see! So, for the subsequent project, The Michener Institute, 1958 to 2008, the First 50 Years, was that your book?
Basically, yes. When I started, I was the only one with book experience as I was the only who had actually done a book before, and I had done one. I was on the Board with a whole bunch of other people, including an institutional historian who had done a thesis on the beginnings of the Institute because it had complete changed how medical technologists were trained in Ontario… He had done a chapter, [which] was just supposed to be like a little pamphlet. I looked at it and I said, “Wow, this could be something really big, this could be a really great story.”
I thought that it needed an outsider’s voice, because it read like they were talking to themselves, and I knew that’s not what they wanted. They wanted it to be something that other people would find interesting. So I told them that I thought the tone needed to change and that it needed to be expanded, and then my roles expanded.
I gave them a draft of what I thought could become a chapter. And from there, I worked with the institutional historian who knew a lot of the details of the place. I would take his ideas and his research and try to make the material a bit more accessible [and] tell a bit more of a coherent story.
Was it at this point that it became your full-time job?
Yes. I was working on it on the weekends for a few months, while was working [at another job]… So I did some work on it on the bus. But when I finished that contract …I worked full-time on this for…six or seven months.
Did they give you an office at the Michener?
No. There was a little desk with a computer behind some books in the library where I worked a little, but mainly I would do my research and then I would go home or somewhere else [to write].
Can you describe a typical day during that six months? Or was there a typical day?
There weren’t very many typical days. Most days, I would try to get up and have some sort of a normal schedule so that I didn’t get off the project, because I had to learn a lot to make this [text] make sense not only to me but to someone who has very little understanding. Most mornings I would do a little bit of research. Then if I had an interview with someone, I would go do the interview, then come back and transcribe. And then after a research day, the next day I would try to do a lot of writing.
We should talk about the interview process, since the reason I got interested in interviewing you/Martha is because she/you know(s) how to do this professionally. So I would like to talk about how you set them up and what your process would be to prepare, and then how it would go.
Because [the book covered only] 50 years, a lot of the people whose roles were important in the growth the institution, [the current staff] still knew them, or they were still working there. So it was very easy for me to find people to talk to…. Once I found out what they did, I had to do some research on what that actually meant, so that I could ask more intelligent questions, and so that I would understand the progression of programs and the expansion of the student body and all that kind of stuff. And then, most of the time I would go to where they worked…. They were practitioners in hospitals and that sort of thing and I really wanted to see what that felt like….I spent a lot of time in hospitals.
Usually, I tried to divide the interviews between things that I felt I knew already and things that I knew I didn’t know [but] that they would have expertise in. I wanted to get some specific answers, but I also wanted to get their impressions of the place and of the profession, because that’s what I really wanted to bring to the book. Those sort of personal anecdotes are sometimes really hard to get.
How structured were your notes going in to the interview?
I definitely had a list, because I wanted there to be some consistency across the interviews. There were 5 questions that I asked of everyone, hoping that there would be some themes that would emerge from that. But I also knew that there were specifics that I had to ask and I would list those. Then I would have a separate list of “probatives” where I hoped they would get off on a bit more of a tangent with their personal feelings.
How amenable were people to this process?
Because I also had a recorder sometimes people said, “I will tell you that when you turn this off.” And I said, “Ok, but you still know that as part of the transcript that’s going to be in there.” And they still said, “Yes, that’s fine, I just don’t want this on [tape].” And I said, “Well, am I allowed to use it?” … There were a few people [that said no], but after I had heard what they didn’t want recorded…I was able to say, “So how did that affect this other big thing,” and then I was allowed to use that material. I really had to try to scooch around it. But it was fun to hear about those kind of problematic relationships within the institutions, which every institution has, it’s not a new thing.
Historical gossip.
Exactly. I actually feel like having those sorts of stories helped even if I couldn’t use them word for word. They really helped shape how I felt about the project.
…Did you have oversight straight along, or did you complete a draft and then show it?
There were a lot of [chapter] drafts and each draft went to the Board. There were about 6 people on the board. Then when it all came together, we looked at as a complete thing and understood where there were pieces missing.
So it was a collaborative effort?
Yes. I think that it had to be, not because of the writing but because of the topic, because it was supposed to be something that really speaks to the institution, and those who are involved in the institution know the political issues, know what their future plans are. This needed to fit in with those ideals, which I wouldn’t know. So it had to be collaborative at the end, definitely.
But was it treated as your project that they were helping you make good?
No. I think that that’s OK for what they wanted, I don’t think that that’s the ideal for moving forward with a project like this. I think it’s important [when working on] a history, for the people who were actually involved in that history to step back and let the story be told from someone outside’s perspective. I think they gain something more from that. Again, I think there’s a tendency to talk to yourself and talk to your colleagues and not want to branch out at all. I think that they wanted to branch but they didn’t know how… So at the end it became a bit more, “This is our community and we want to keep it this way,” instead of saying, “This is a really great story about the history of Toronto, the history of Ontario, and of the profession in general, and it should be known.”
So, do you have plans for next time? Would you like to do another project?
Yes, yes, I would love to do another project. Because I know all the pitfalls: that I really need to stand up for myself as the writer as opposed to just part of a team, because I think that the writer is separate. Although there definitely needs to be that collaboration at some point, the writer should be in charge of that creative process. It’s really difficult to have a successful and real creative work when there are so many people giving their opinions all of the time.
So, when this project was winding down, I know you went on to something very different, what were you thinking jobwise, careerwise?
I really wanted there to be another book project after that, so I actually waited a few months after the project was finished, because it was quite hectic near the end…But then there was nothing coming, so then I had to get a real job. [laughter] So now I’m a fulltime archivist.
Can you put a lot of the lessons you learned in that project into the work that you do now?
Ye-es. But it really makes me want to go back and do more books. Because I feel that it takes my archival training and my writing tendencies and creates this lovely little relationship between them. There are so many really neat true stories to be told, that can be told in a creative and interesting way, and I really love to do that.
RR
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Metcalf-Rooke stuff
Y'all know that Amy Jones' book launch is tonight, right? Ushering in a new era of Metcalf-Rooke awesomeness. Though I seem to have a tiny angry bird living in my left temple, I'm going to be there--and if I can do it, so can you!!
And then on Thursday, Amy and I and Carrie Snyder are reading at the New Quarterly issue launch at the Art Bar in Kitchener, which should be awesome. Provided the bird is free by then. Or dead, I suppose. I should not come up with metaphors when I'm feeling poorly. Glad I'll have articulate folks to listen to tonight.
RR
And then on Thursday, Amy and I and Carrie Snyder are reading at the New Quarterly issue launch at the Art Bar in Kitchener, which should be awesome. Provided the bird is free by then. Or dead, I suppose. I should not come up with metaphors when I'm feeling poorly. Glad I'll have articulate folks to listen to tonight.
RR
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Readings in Motion
In the year since my last readings post, I've done perhaps 20 or 25 readings and other public presentations about my writing. I've had lots of fun, learned plenty, had some embarrassing moments and heard some amazing readings. I've also gotten loads better--my voice rarely shakes now, I enunciate and project, I know approximately how much emphasis to give the funny lines and the sad ones, and I no longer equate speed with fluency. If circumstances occasionally result in my giving a below-par reading, the benevolent hand of random chance occasionally result in my giving an above-par one, too.
The bad news seems to be that, no matter how much I improve, the nervousness does not go away. I fret a lot pre-reading, going over the selection again and again and wondering whether the piece isn't just garbage that I should be ashamed to present in front of an audience? I am a fairly obnoxious dinner companion pre-reading, but tonnes of fun--in the manner of a pardoned death-row prisoner--after any reading that didn't utterly suck, which is most of them. It remains hard to convince reading organizers, some of whom have gone to trouble and expense to have me there, that I am thrilled to be.
And I am! Thrilled that I get to personally deliver my work to the world. A little terrified, yes, but mainly thrilled. And getting better, the more I learn about the process.
So what have I learned? A few things since that year-ago post, actually. If you are curious, here are some very basic practical tips that I overlooked for a while (too long). Now that this stuff has occured to me, I am ever closer to consistently giving readings people will enjoy listening to (note: these lessons are from my combined experiences as reader and audience):
1) Ask if you can be heard in the back before you begin, and adjust your voice/mic until you can be. It is tempting to avoid being primadonna-y and plunge in at a preselected pitch and let the audience cope how they can. However, if you can't be heard, most audiences won't cope; they'll yell at you to speak up/adjust the mic. That's obviously annoying for the audience to have to do, and it is also very startling to a nervous reader to have people yelling at you.
On a similar note, adjust the mic *stand* before you begin, so that you don't have to give your reading crouching or on tiptoe, neither of which helps with delivery. Ask for help from the stage if you can't figure it out; likely the reading organizer/tech guy/random helpful soul will come darting up immediately.
2) Prep your guests. Every reader has some friends and family who aren't very literary-reading savvy, and maybe have never even been to one before. If they want to say aloud, "Wow, that was great" after each poem in your set and/or attempt to engage you in dialogue from the stage, you may well enjoy that, but then again you may be completely thrown off/dying of shame. Even if a little vocal audience validation is exactly what you want, warn those validators to stick to polite applause for readers that may come before or after you. And please please please, tell your posse not to sit in the front row if they want to leave immediately after your reading. People tromping up the aisleduring the next reader, sometimes *talking* is something I've seen a number of times. Of course no one should have to sit through stuff they aren't interested in, but try to get'em to sit near the door and leave discreetly. I honestly think that some people have grown so used to movies that they forget that it's a real person up there whose rhythm could get thrown (or feelings could get hurt).
3) Try to stay within the time limit. This is necessary to ensure the goodwill of your fellow readers and the organizer. I have lots of awesome 22 minute passages and it is tempting to read them always, but if I were asked to read for fifteen and there's a band coming on after literary portion of the evening, the later readers are going to get screwed and hate me, so I don't do it.
Also, as a listener, I've found evenings of readings have a rhythm that it's best to go with. If everyone reads for 15, I am in 15-minute-mode, and a 22-minute reading suddenly seems torturingly long, though an evening of 22-minute readings is fine. Or maybe my brain is weird.
4) The best readings, in my experience, require very little explanation. The best selection to bring to the stage is completely self-contained: one complete story, a selection of complete poems or a complete poem cycle. The second best thing is the beginning of something, from the first page until you run out of time. The third best is, uh, some self-contained thing in the middle that still doesn't require much explanation.
But sometimes you simply don't have an interesting segment the right length that stands alone. Or, damnit, you just want to read the ending for once. So go for it, but work on the explanation as if it were a new piece of reading--make it clear and interesting. The one time I tried to link up two sections from different parts of a story in a reading, I think I lost a good percentage of my audience because I hadn't rehearsed my explanation and it was not very clear.
The brilliant writer and reader Leon Rooke often jumps around within a reading *without me knowing it* because his bridge passages are so funny and interesting and completely in keeping with the tone of the story. The only downside is when I read the published piece looking for the bit that isn't actually part of it. Strive for this.
It should go without saying that work shouldn't need an explanation for anything more than logistical purposes ("Ok, so Jimmy is Johnny's stepson, and they're on the road to Vegas"). If an author feels the need to tell the audience how to interpret what they are about to hear, it demonstrates a lack of faith in either how smart the listeners are or how good the writing is, neither of which is an appetizing thought as one tries to get into the work.
5) It's your time--do what you like. I love it when authors like Pasha Malla chat with the audience, tell funny stories, and engage in dialogue, and I was totally impressed to hear Angela Szczepaniak's rejoinders to a heckler be funnier than the actually heckling. Evan Munday and Jon Paul Fiorentino's typical reading for Stripmalling is a slideshow. A couple weeks ago I heard Spencer Gordon introduce his short story, briefly and wittily, and then he said the words, "I just have to do it in a southern accent." I thought to myself, and I believe I wasn't alone in this, "Oh, shit!" Which made it all the more amazing that period Mr. Gordon actually has the twin talents of story-writing and accent-doing is not to be trifled with. It was a stellar reading, warm and funny and original on a number of levels.
My readings are still pretty non-esoteric. I'm pleased if I can get the words from the page into the air in a relatively entertaining manner. My big new thing at my next two readings will be to actually tell a brief anecdote *about* the story before reading it (with cue cards, der; I haven't gone completely crazy!)
But I am learning to chill out occasionally, and enjoy myself more and more every time. Here's a picture from one of my more awesome readings/seminars (actually, I did relatively little talking at this one, perhaps why I enjoyed it so!) at North York Central Public Library's Young Writers' group.
Even though I struggle with the readings still, I know how lucky I am. How many people get to do this stuff, really?
RR
The bad news seems to be that, no matter how much I improve, the nervousness does not go away. I fret a lot pre-reading, going over the selection again and again and wondering whether the piece isn't just garbage that I should be ashamed to present in front of an audience? I am a fairly obnoxious dinner companion pre-reading, but tonnes of fun--in the manner of a pardoned death-row prisoner--after any reading that didn't utterly suck, which is most of them. It remains hard to convince reading organizers, some of whom have gone to trouble and expense to have me there, that I am thrilled to be.
And I am! Thrilled that I get to personally deliver my work to the world. A little terrified, yes, but mainly thrilled. And getting better, the more I learn about the process.
So what have I learned? A few things since that year-ago post, actually. If you are curious, here are some very basic practical tips that I overlooked for a while (too long). Now that this stuff has occured to me, I am ever closer to consistently giving readings people will enjoy listening to (note: these lessons are from my combined experiences as reader and audience):
1) Ask if you can be heard in the back before you begin, and adjust your voice/mic until you can be. It is tempting to avoid being primadonna-y and plunge in at a preselected pitch and let the audience cope how they can. However, if you can't be heard, most audiences won't cope; they'll yell at you to speak up/adjust the mic. That's obviously annoying for the audience to have to do, and it is also very startling to a nervous reader to have people yelling at you.
On a similar note, adjust the mic *stand* before you begin, so that you don't have to give your reading crouching or on tiptoe, neither of which helps with delivery. Ask for help from the stage if you can't figure it out; likely the reading organizer/tech guy/random helpful soul will come darting up immediately.
2) Prep your guests. Every reader has some friends and family who aren't very literary-reading savvy, and maybe have never even been to one before. If they want to say aloud, "Wow, that was great" after each poem in your set and/or attempt to engage you in dialogue from the stage, you may well enjoy that, but then again you may be completely thrown off/dying of shame. Even if a little vocal audience validation is exactly what you want, warn those validators to stick to polite applause for readers that may come before or after you. And please please please, tell your posse not to sit in the front row if they want to leave immediately after your reading. People tromping up the aisleduring the next reader, sometimes *talking* is something I've seen a number of times. Of course no one should have to sit through stuff they aren't interested in, but try to get'em to sit near the door and leave discreetly. I honestly think that some people have grown so used to movies that they forget that it's a real person up there whose rhythm could get thrown (or feelings could get hurt).
3) Try to stay within the time limit. This is necessary to ensure the goodwill of your fellow readers and the organizer. I have lots of awesome 22 minute passages and it is tempting to read them always, but if I were asked to read for fifteen and there's a band coming on after literary portion of the evening, the later readers are going to get screwed and hate me, so I don't do it.
Also, as a listener, I've found evenings of readings have a rhythm that it's best to go with. If everyone reads for 15, I am in 15-minute-mode, and a 22-minute reading suddenly seems torturingly long, though an evening of 22-minute readings is fine. Or maybe my brain is weird.
4) The best readings, in my experience, require very little explanation. The best selection to bring to the stage is completely self-contained: one complete story, a selection of complete poems or a complete poem cycle. The second best thing is the beginning of something, from the first page until you run out of time. The third best is, uh, some self-contained thing in the middle that still doesn't require much explanation.
But sometimes you simply don't have an interesting segment the right length that stands alone. Or, damnit, you just want to read the ending for once. So go for it, but work on the explanation as if it were a new piece of reading--make it clear and interesting. The one time I tried to link up two sections from different parts of a story in a reading, I think I lost a good percentage of my audience because I hadn't rehearsed my explanation and it was not very clear.
The brilliant writer and reader Leon Rooke often jumps around within a reading *without me knowing it* because his bridge passages are so funny and interesting and completely in keeping with the tone of the story. The only downside is when I read the published piece looking for the bit that isn't actually part of it. Strive for this.
It should go without saying that work shouldn't need an explanation for anything more than logistical purposes ("Ok, so Jimmy is Johnny's stepson, and they're on the road to Vegas"). If an author feels the need to tell the audience how to interpret what they are about to hear, it demonstrates a lack of faith in either how smart the listeners are or how good the writing is, neither of which is an appetizing thought as one tries to get into the work.
5) It's your time--do what you like. I love it when authors like Pasha Malla chat with the audience, tell funny stories, and engage in dialogue, and I was totally impressed to hear Angela Szczepaniak's rejoinders to a heckler be funnier than the actually heckling. Evan Munday and Jon Paul Fiorentino's typical reading for Stripmalling is a slideshow. A couple weeks ago I heard Spencer Gordon introduce his short story, briefly and wittily, and then he said the words, "I just have to do it in a southern accent." I thought to myself, and I believe I wasn't alone in this, "Oh, shit!" Which made it all the more amazing that period Mr. Gordon actually has the twin talents of story-writing and accent-doing is not to be trifled with. It was a stellar reading, warm and funny and original on a number of levels.
My readings are still pretty non-esoteric. I'm pleased if I can get the words from the page into the air in a relatively entertaining manner. My big new thing at my next two readings will be to actually tell a brief anecdote *about* the story before reading it (with cue cards, der; I haven't gone completely crazy!)
But I am learning to chill out occasionally, and enjoy myself more and more every time. Here's a picture from one of my more awesome readings/seminars (actually, I did relatively little talking at this one, perhaps why I enjoyed it so!) at North York Central Public Library's Young Writers' group.
Even though I struggle with the readings still, I know how lucky I am. How many people get to do this stuff, really?
RR
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Everybody's talking
Dave Fiore talks to Jenny Sampirisi at Agora Review.
Amy Jones answers rob mclennan's 12 or 20 questions.
Kerry Clare blogs astutely about Little Women.
Me, I'll be talking (though probably more listening) about the demands and rewards of plot in fiction at a writers' discussion group tonight. This should be bracing, considering my usually limp-wristed grasp on the plot of any story I try to write. More on this situation as it develops.
RR
Amy Jones answers rob mclennan's 12 or 20 questions.
Kerry Clare blogs astutely about Little Women.
Me, I'll be talking (though probably more listening) about the demands and rewards of plot in fiction at a writers' discussion group tonight. This should be bracing, considering my usually limp-wristed grasp on the plot of any story I try to write. More on this situation as it develops.
RR
Thursday, October 8, 2009
It's a Metcalf-Rooke Thing
All good things must pass, and my term as Metcalf-Rooke winner is ending. But I couldn't be happier that I'm passing it on to Amy Jones, who, on October 20 is launching this year's winner, What Boys Like. Which, from the stories I've read so far, will be amazing and I'm so excited both to read the whole thing and to attend the event.
And then, we're going to do a couple of the events together in M/R team-joy (I'm always tempted to say "M/R sisterhood" but I won't because our awesomeness, respective and collective, is ungendered, and likely someday a man will win). October 22, along with Carrie Snyder, Amy and I will be reading at the Art bar in Kitchener for the launch of Issue 112 of The New Quarterly, which has featured all of the above authors. And then on November 2, we're going to Montreal to read with another M/R teammate, Kathleen Winter, at Drawn and Quarterly. I don't know if or when we'll get the four of us together (the prize was launched in 2006 with Patricia Young's Airstream, but we can dream.
And then, we're going to do a couple of the events together in M/R team-joy (I'm always tempted to say "M/R sisterhood" but I won't because our awesomeness, respective and collective, is ungendered, and likely someday a man will win). October 22, along with Carrie Snyder, Amy and I will be reading at the Art bar in Kitchener for the launch of Issue 112 of The New Quarterly, which has featured all of the above authors. And then on November 2, we're going to Montreal to read with another M/R teammate, Kathleen Winter, at Drawn and Quarterly. I don't know if or when we'll get the four of us together (the prize was launched in 2006 with Patricia Young's Airstream, but we can dream.
Go, team!
RR
Sunday, October 4, 2009
At Draft
Yesterday, I was a happy attendee and terrified participant at The Draft Reading Series. As usual at these readings, the organizers were super on-the-ball, supportive and fun. Here is Maria from the Draft group, below, introducing the event and being charming:
Then amazing Amy Jones read, also new work, which was shocking and very funny and made me even more excited to read her forthcoming book as well as for the other events we'll be doing together soon (oooh, suspense: stay tuned, Metcalf-Rooke fans!!)
Then Sachiko Murakami read some striking poems about Vancouver, and wore some really nice boots (not pictured):
Then Lina Medaglia read from her novel about immigration, superstition and how hard it is to be a kid because no one will tell you anything:
Since it was the Draft reading series, I read a story in draft form, ie., something I wrote the week before and edited over breakfast. This is something I had never done before, and it was really only Hallowe'en kisses (can you believe I could not find a picture to link to here? Can you also believe that it didn't occur to me before now that bringing candy to readings is awesome?) Here I am, terrified, and full of sugar (thanks for taking the pic, B):
Then, of course, the camera died (B, I don't blame you) before I could get a shot of final reader Roz Spafford, but I assure you she was interesting too! And then there was the first open mic I'd ever seen, which was quite quite good, considering the reputation of such ventures, and included such cool readers as August Bourre and Terri Favro!
It was an entertaining and illuminating (I can read draft work to strangers without bursting into flame--who knew??) afternoon, though I was shocked that there was candy leftover. Don't worry, that will be rectified shortly!
Teenland, whoa-oh
RR
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Event City
I usually have perhaps one or two standing-at-the-front-of-the-room experiences per month, but I have three this week, and I suppose it won't be long before I start snapping my fingers for drinks and talking about the difficulties of "my art." Or maybe not...
After the very fun Writers' Trust presentation on Wednesday, on Thursday I got to go do a little reading and workshop with the teen writers' group at North York Public Library, who are so very amazing (as is their leader, Susan Kernohan) that I didn't have to do all that much of the talking, actually, just sit back and listen to the discussion about why art theory doesn't help, while Dickens is a must, how inspiration starts, and what to major in in university. Pretty amazing.
And then tomorrow, I'll be doing a reading for the Draft reading series. Here be the deets:
Sunday October 4th, 2009, 4 – 6 p.m.
The Blue Moon Pub, 725 Queen St. E. (That's just East of Broadview on the South side.)
Including new work by:
Amy Jones
Lina Medaglia
Sachiko Murakami
Rebecca Rosenblum
Roz Spafford
There will be an open mike. Seven readers, three minutes each. Please arrive at the beginning of the reading to sign up. With the $5 admission fee you get a copy of Draft, a limited-edition publication available only at these readings. For info: draftreadings@gmail.com or 416 433-4170
I am stoked to hear all the other artists on the bill, including the fabulous story-writer Amy Jones (who I have never seen in person!) But I am a little terrified to myself be reading in draft form, something I've done only once before. Even that other time, it was a reasonably polished draft, as opposed to this story, which I only started work on a week ago Thursday. Oh dear. This'll be something different, anyway.
Next week, I think I'll stop standing at the front of the room and go to other people's events for a while. Perhaps you would like to, too??
Tuesday October 6--Marta Chudolinska does a signing of her graphic novel, Back + Forth at Ben McNally Books.
Wednesday October 7--It's the first anniversary (approximately) party for Pivot at the Press Club, and Emily Schultz, Spencer Gordon, Ken Babstock, and Meaghan Strimas take to the stage to celebrate. I am of the opinion that a night at Pivot is *always* a good bet, but this one might even be extra good.
Friday October 9--A non-lit event--the acapella groupCadence live at the Annex. Should be a whole new experience for me, and I hear nothing but good things.
And then we're into the weekend, and can safely abandon cultural consumption for turkey consumption. I don't know about you, but I intend to spend the entire weekend hugging people and eating sweet potatoes... But that's *next* weekend, so I guess this means I should get back to work now.
Hope to see you at one (or more) of the above!
There's nothing I can do for you you can't do for yourself
RR
After the very fun Writers' Trust presentation on Wednesday, on Thursday I got to go do a little reading and workshop with the teen writers' group at North York Public Library, who are so very amazing (as is their leader, Susan Kernohan) that I didn't have to do all that much of the talking, actually, just sit back and listen to the discussion about why art theory doesn't help, while Dickens is a must, how inspiration starts, and what to major in in university. Pretty amazing.
And then tomorrow, I'll be doing a reading for the Draft reading series. Here be the deets:
Sunday October 4th, 2009, 4 – 6 p.m.
The Blue Moon Pub, 725 Queen St. E. (That's just East of Broadview on the South side.)
Including new work by:
Amy Jones
Lina Medaglia
Sachiko Murakami
Rebecca Rosenblum
Roz Spafford
There will be an open mike. Seven readers, three minutes each. Please arrive at the beginning of the reading to sign up. With the $5 admission fee you get a copy of Draft, a limited-edition publication available only at these readings. For info: draftreadings@gmail.com or 416 433-4170
I am stoked to hear all the other artists on the bill, including the fabulous story-writer Amy Jones (who I have never seen in person!) But I am a little terrified to myself be reading in draft form, something I've done only once before. Even that other time, it was a reasonably polished draft, as opposed to this story, which I only started work on a week ago Thursday. Oh dear. This'll be something different, anyway.
Next week, I think I'll stop standing at the front of the room and go to other people's events for a while. Perhaps you would like to, too??
Tuesday October 6--Marta Chudolinska does a signing of her graphic novel, Back + Forth at Ben McNally Books.
Wednesday October 7--It's the first anniversary (approximately) party for Pivot at the Press Club, and Emily Schultz, Spencer Gordon, Ken Babstock, and Meaghan Strimas take to the stage to celebrate. I am of the opinion that a night at Pivot is *always* a good bet, but this one might even be extra good.
Friday October 9--A non-lit event--the acapella groupCadence live at the Annex. Should be a whole new experience for me, and I hear nothing but good things.
And then we're into the weekend, and can safely abandon cultural consumption for turkey consumption. I don't know about you, but I intend to spend the entire weekend hugging people and eating sweet potatoes... But that's *next* weekend, so I guess this means I should get back to work now.
Hope to see you at one (or more) of the above!
There's nothing I can do for you you can't do for yourself
RR
Friday, October 2, 2009
Another week
And another week's end round-up:
Michael Turner answers 12 or 20. Mr. Turner is an important author for me (although really also for Canada) for various reasons, not least his was one of the first literary readings I ever saw, and at said reading, the very first pornographic film I ever saw.
The Literary Type has a hilarious post about The New Quarterly's adventures at Word on the Street. My favourite part is when Melissa worries she'll have to live in the parking garage. Oh, I love those guys!!
My matching quote game was met with near-resounding silence (thanks for trying, AMT) but here are the answers anyway: 4 a), 3 b), 2 c), 1 d), 5 e).
The Writers' Trust announced their shortlists on Wednesday, including the Journey Prize shortlist, announced by Camilla Gibb and me.
It got really cold in Toronto and I hate it. I am also encountering some sort of wardrobe malfunction wherein all my clothes disintegrate (within the privacy of own home, mind) so I have to cobble together outfits that don't make sense just for frostbite prevention. I will shop tonight, I swear it,
Behaved very badly in the arms of a boy
RR
Michael Turner answers 12 or 20. Mr. Turner is an important author for me (although really also for Canada) for various reasons, not least his was one of the first literary readings I ever saw, and at said reading, the very first pornographic film I ever saw.
The Literary Type has a hilarious post about The New Quarterly's adventures at Word on the Street. My favourite part is when Melissa worries she'll have to live in the parking garage. Oh, I love those guys!!
My matching quote game was met with near-resounding silence (thanks for trying, AMT) but here are the answers anyway: 4 a), 3 b), 2 c), 1 d), 5 e).
The Writers' Trust announced their shortlists on Wednesday, including the Journey Prize shortlist, announced by Camilla Gibb and me.
It got really cold in Toronto and I hate it. I am also encountering some sort of wardrobe malfunction wherein all my clothes disintegrate (within the privacy of own home, mind) so I have to cobble together outfits that don't make sense just for frostbite prevention. I will shop tonight, I swear it,
Behaved very badly in the arms of a boy
RR
Monday, September 28, 2009
Matching Quote Game
Everyone's been just so quotable lately that I was going to just provide you with a list of highlights, but then I thought it would be even more fun to let readers match the quotations with their attributions--that's the level of interactivity the internet is famous for, no? So here's what they said:
a) I'm starting to feel just a little abused--like a coffee machine in an office.
b) She liked me as well as the next person, anyway, and the next person hadn't come along yet.
c) This is like the confused leading the blind, leading a bunch of shrews. Don't look so calm: you're blind and you've got shrews on your tail!
d) The status is not quo.
e) Montreal metalheads are hardcore. At shows, they throw the skeletons of the people they've eaten onto the stage.
So who said what?
1) Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
2) My friend J.
3) Leon Rooke
4) Shakira
5) Teenagers on subway
No links, to discourage you from looking this stuff up. Answers can go in the comments section, and I think the prize is only eternal glory, though I'll try to think of something better than that. I'll post right answers at the end of the week, to give time for the two or three people who actually ever play my reindeer games to play.
That's amore
RR
a) I'm starting to feel just a little abused--like a coffee machine in an office.
b) She liked me as well as the next person, anyway, and the next person hadn't come along yet.
c) This is like the confused leading the blind, leading a bunch of shrews. Don't look so calm: you're blind and you've got shrews on your tail!
d) The status is not quo.
e) Montreal metalheads are hardcore. At shows, they throw the skeletons of the people they've eaten onto the stage.
So who said what?
1) Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
2) My friend J.
3) Leon Rooke
4) Shakira
5) Teenagers on subway
No links, to discourage you from looking this stuff up. Answers can go in the comments section, and I think the prize is only eternal glory, though I'll try to think of something better than that. I'll post right answers at the end of the week, to give time for the two or three people who actually ever play my reindeer games to play.
That's amore
RR
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Grant-tastic
I wanted to write a post about grant application writing because we're in that season and I imagine that lots are thus obsessed. So many of us obsessed, and yet I am also writing this because no one seems to talk that much about this all-consuming process. There seems to be lots of good web resources on how to ready a manuscript for submission, but very few on grant apps. Possibly that's because grant-app requirements vary by country and region, or because not everyone politically endorses grants to artists, or because they are such closed-door processes that people feel little is known and there's no advice to be offered--better just to ignore them and get on with the work itself, which is what really matters, after all.
True that it's the work that matters. But while it probably is also true that no one can tell you how to write a successful grant application, I think help helps a writer to create a decent one, and helps also to keep him/her from going insane while doing so...and money, if you win a grant, certainly helps.
Jim Munro has written both on how not to get depressed about applying for grants, and why they are important to artists and the world at large. (That last essay, four years old, is still extremely relevant and powerful in these times of arts budget cuts--grant-backed work as the R&D of literature is a concept the government is still struggling with, apparently.)
But I wondered if there were people out there who were hoping for something a little more specific, and step-by-step. And, as usual, what I have to draw on is my own incredible luck: when I first started writing these applications, I had what most young writers would love: people to hold my hand and help me every step of the way. So while I'm not wildly familiar with every aspect of the process, I have been doing this a while, and have received some good advice. At the very least, I'd like to pay it forward.
Step 1: Whenever you have time, read over the national, provincial/territorial, and regional/municipal arts council websites (I don't think every region/municipality has one, but I think all provinces/territories do, although I'm not even sure about that--anyone want to report?) Figure out which ones you and your project are eligible for, and note when the deadlines are. Also note which ones you aren't eligible for but would like to work towards (ie., you don't have enough professional publications to be considered a "professional artist" but are close; you don't have the page count for the project to be eligible but are close; etc.)
There are so many grants out there, and it is confusing to find out which ones are for what and whom, but obviously, it could be kind of lucrative if you do. If you have no idea what is meant by something or other on an arts council website, it's definitely worth your time to enquire. I have called the 800 numbers for every granting level, and have been unfailingly met with quick, polite and helpful responses. Once, after answering my question, the administrator said that that bit was actually so confusing he would change it for next year--I helped!! I'm a grant-applicating hero!! Ok, ok....
Not Step 2: Create a project you think jives with the grant guidelines. Not only is this impossible to guess at, but it will be both stressful and boring, and really depressing if you don't get the grant and you've spent all this time creating a project you don't believe in. Just keep right on thinking about whatever project you were hoping to do next, only maybe try to think about it in the form of 1 or 2 clear and concise proposal pages...
Step 2: 3-4 weeks before the deadline, read the guidelines for the grant you want to try for and make sure you are still eligible. Read over all the requirements and figure out what you need to do. For one of my first apps, I skipped step 1, and was far closer to the deadline than 3-4 weeks when I started to process, and became quickly overwhelmed by the various requirements. So I went and took a bath.
Luckily, I had a good and organized friend staying with me, who printed out the guidelines and, when I returned, read them aloud to me and helped me find all the constituent pieces (I'm sure this is exactly what she wanted to do with her weekend.)
Do whatever the guidelines say. Format the pages the way they want, take things off your resume that they claim are extraneous, use the right colour of ink, etc. A lot of these things don't matter, but it's really hard to say which so it's necessary to DO THEM ALL. If you format the headers wrong and your name appears on something that's supposed to be blind ajudicated, it will be thrown out. If you double-side the pages when they ask you not to, so that the app can't be photocopied easily, it'll be thrown out. These are dumb reasons not to get a grant. Don't think outside the box when filling out forms; keep the creativity strictly in the work, which is where it matters. Again, if confused, call!!
Step 3: 3ish weeks ahead of deadline: Write your proposal. This is the hardest part (though some grants don't even call for this), but it's also actually a useful exercise, as it forces you to articulate what exactly you are trying to do (anyone who has ever been interviewed knows this is difficult even after the thing is print!)
The esteemed writer who helped me with another app (eventually I started doing them on my own, I swear) said he never spent more than 2 hours on one of these, and while we can't all be that chilled out, I really think we should try. Mr. Munro says he takes about 2 days for the whole process, which seems about accurate, though I doubt you'll want to take a whole weekend away from whatever writing/real life stuff you've got on to do it all at once.
Write the proposal over a week or so. Say what you are doing and want to do, as clearly and smoothly as possible. If it's a highly theoretical project, sure, make references that are important to you, but if it isn't, don't invent them. Tell yourself it's about the quality of the work, over and over and over. Even if you end up with a highly politicized jury, you have no way of knowing that in advance; you can't make them like your work, you can only make your work good.
Step 4: as soon as you finish the proposal Get a kind friend to proof everything--the forms you've filled out, the resumes, publication lists, anything that has words on it (except the actual work sample; see below). You don't need a fellow writer necessarily, just someone with a keen eye, good grammar, and an investment in you getting the metaphorical spinach out of your teeth. When they read the proposal, encourage them to mention any sentences that don't makes sense/aren't clear--you never know what your fervered brain might have done at this stressful point in the process.
Step 5: whenever you need to Take a little break and think of other things. Really really try not to let the grant app take over your life, or go in the slot where actual writing is supposed to go.
Pep talk: Think about how lucky we are to be writers writing grant applications. Dance, visual art, and musical profressionals have to write them just like we do, only their chosen profession is *not* putting their ideas down on paper in the best possible way. It could be so much worse--imagine having to sing your application, or paint it.
Step 6: a few days before you send the whole thing out Take the best [however many pages you need] from the project as started, or of a past project that is similar in style, and format them according to the specifications of the application. This should be stuff that's been previously edited and proofread--I would strongly suggest that you not add that to the sundry grant-app pressures--it should be ready-to-go materials taht have been previously submitted it for publication or were actually published or just stuff you have already gotten to a point where you are happy with it. Of course, there's no reason you *can't* be editing now, or even writing new materials if you feel you need to, but if that's your plan backdate the whole process a whole lot weeks, and brace yourself for the extra stress.
Step 7: at least a week before the deadline if you are mailing it Package everything up in an appropriate new envelope (just this once: spring for exactly the right size instead of trying to cut down/tape together/recycle an envelope), address it carefully, and take it to the post office to be weighed and stamped. If you are a tense type (ie., me) you'll probably need to pay a lot of money to have a mailing option with a tracking number--suck it up and save the receipt for tax season, since it is a professional expense.
Pep talk #2 Try to think of grant applying as part of the job description of being a writer (unless you don't believe in grants, in which case, why have you read so far in this post?) When I fretted about it not being worth all that time and energy for a grant that I probably wouldn't get since I was just starting and I should just get on with the project anyway, my mom pointed out that since I was *going* to do the project anyway, and work very hard on it, it would be silly not to even suggest to anyone that I get paid a bit for all that work. No one, I don't think, is entitled to a grant just for working hard, but we are certainly all entitled to ask.
Exception to pep talk Don't apply for grants if it will eat up all the time you have for writing. If you are that pressed for time that regular adherence to the grant application schedule would make you more a grant-applier than a writer, it's obvious which one has got to go. It's the work that matters.
Step 8: after mailing app, for about 4-6 months Forget it. Go write something. Apply for a different grant. Talk to your loved ones. Look at kittens!
Step 9: 4-6 months later An envelope comes in the mail. We've all been trained by *The Facts of Life* to think that thick envelopes mean acceptance and thin mean rejection, but there's often a lot of extraneous forms in there, so you'll have to open it to know, probably standing in the foyer of your building, with a pizza guy glaring at the back of your head.
If you get rejected, feel surprised and a bit sad...say to yourself (and others if they ask) "Huh, I thought that was a pretty good application. Well, can't win'em all." Then go file the letter, or log it in your spreadsheet, or make it into a paper airplane, or whatever it is you do. Get someone who likes you to buy you a drink.
Pep talk #3 Canada Council funds about 20% of grant applications, and Toronto Arts Council perhaps 22-24% (I don't have other stats, but feel free to extrapolate or share). That's because that's what they have the money for, not because all the other apps they get are unworthy, or even that the committees think they are. I've never sat a committee myself, nor even known anyone who has well enough to ask more than general questions, but I firmly believe they weed out all the bad ideas, bad writing, and crazy writers, and then put the good sane materials in a hat, out of which they draw names until they run out of money. Believe that you were in the hat, ok? Rejection doesn't mean it was a bad project; it means this wasn't your year. Feel surprised and a bit sad, and put it behind you. It's the work that matters.
Note: if you have information that contradicts my theory, sure, let me know; if you have a *theory* that contradicts my theory, please keep it to yourself and allow me to remain relatively Rose-coloured.
If you get accepted, feel surprised and extremely thrilled. Hop about for a bit (you should probably leave the foyer now, and let the poor pizza guy in.) Tell someone who likes you (and buy him/her a drink); toast yourself and your good work and good luck. Examine all the paperwork they've sent you so that you know how to a) get your money, b) file your taxes, and c) fill the Final Reports that are months away from being due, at which point you will have lost every piece of paper telling you how or where to send them or what to say. Or, erm, not, because you are not as dopey as some of us.
Ok, now get back to work. And for heaven's sake, don't put that you've received a grant in your author bio, unless it's in print with the work that the grant actually funded, and the granters are being credited--otherwise, that's like putting your salary on your resume. Getting paid is nice but it's--wait for it--the work that matters.
Good luck, everybody! And if you find something erroneous, confusing, or missing in this post, please get in touch!
Keep the faith
RR
True that it's the work that matters. But while it probably is also true that no one can tell you how to write a successful grant application, I think help helps a writer to create a decent one, and helps also to keep him/her from going insane while doing so...and money, if you win a grant, certainly helps.
Jim Munro has written both on how not to get depressed about applying for grants, and why they are important to artists and the world at large. (That last essay, four years old, is still extremely relevant and powerful in these times of arts budget cuts--grant-backed work as the R&D of literature is a concept the government is still struggling with, apparently.)
But I wondered if there were people out there who were hoping for something a little more specific, and step-by-step. And, as usual, what I have to draw on is my own incredible luck: when I first started writing these applications, I had what most young writers would love: people to hold my hand and help me every step of the way. So while I'm not wildly familiar with every aspect of the process, I have been doing this a while, and have received some good advice. At the very least, I'd like to pay it forward.
Step 1: Whenever you have time, read over the national, provincial/territorial, and regional/municipal arts council websites (I don't think every region/municipality has one, but I think all provinces/territories do, although I'm not even sure about that--anyone want to report?) Figure out which ones you and your project are eligible for, and note when the deadlines are. Also note which ones you aren't eligible for but would like to work towards (ie., you don't have enough professional publications to be considered a "professional artist" but are close; you don't have the page count for the project to be eligible but are close; etc.)
There are so many grants out there, and it is confusing to find out which ones are for what and whom, but obviously, it could be kind of lucrative if you do. If you have no idea what is meant by something or other on an arts council website, it's definitely worth your time to enquire. I have called the 800 numbers for every granting level, and have been unfailingly met with quick, polite and helpful responses. Once, after answering my question, the administrator said that that bit was actually so confusing he would change it for next year--I helped!! I'm a grant-applicating hero!! Ok, ok....
Not Step 2: Create a project you think jives with the grant guidelines. Not only is this impossible to guess at, but it will be both stressful and boring, and really depressing if you don't get the grant and you've spent all this time creating a project you don't believe in. Just keep right on thinking about whatever project you were hoping to do next, only maybe try to think about it in the form of 1 or 2 clear and concise proposal pages...
Step 2: 3-4 weeks before the deadline, read the guidelines for the grant you want to try for and make sure you are still eligible. Read over all the requirements and figure out what you need to do. For one of my first apps, I skipped step 1, and was far closer to the deadline than 3-4 weeks when I started to process, and became quickly overwhelmed by the various requirements. So I went and took a bath.
Luckily, I had a good and organized friend staying with me, who printed out the guidelines and, when I returned, read them aloud to me and helped me find all the constituent pieces (I'm sure this is exactly what she wanted to do with her weekend.)
Do whatever the guidelines say. Format the pages the way they want, take things off your resume that they claim are extraneous, use the right colour of ink, etc. A lot of these things don't matter, but it's really hard to say which so it's necessary to DO THEM ALL. If you format the headers wrong and your name appears on something that's supposed to be blind ajudicated, it will be thrown out. If you double-side the pages when they ask you not to, so that the app can't be photocopied easily, it'll be thrown out. These are dumb reasons not to get a grant. Don't think outside the box when filling out forms; keep the creativity strictly in the work, which is where it matters. Again, if confused, call!!
Step 3: 3ish weeks ahead of deadline: Write your proposal. This is the hardest part (though some grants don't even call for this), but it's also actually a useful exercise, as it forces you to articulate what exactly you are trying to do (anyone who has ever been interviewed knows this is difficult even after the thing is print!)
The esteemed writer who helped me with another app (eventually I started doing them on my own, I swear) said he never spent more than 2 hours on one of these, and while we can't all be that chilled out, I really think we should try. Mr. Munro says he takes about 2 days for the whole process, which seems about accurate, though I doubt you'll want to take a whole weekend away from whatever writing/real life stuff you've got on to do it all at once.
Write the proposal over a week or so. Say what you are doing and want to do, as clearly and smoothly as possible. If it's a highly theoretical project, sure, make references that are important to you, but if it isn't, don't invent them. Tell yourself it's about the quality of the work, over and over and over. Even if you end up with a highly politicized jury, you have no way of knowing that in advance; you can't make them like your work, you can only make your work good.
Step 4: as soon as you finish the proposal Get a kind friend to proof everything--the forms you've filled out, the resumes, publication lists, anything that has words on it (except the actual work sample; see below). You don't need a fellow writer necessarily, just someone with a keen eye, good grammar, and an investment in you getting the metaphorical spinach out of your teeth. When they read the proposal, encourage them to mention any sentences that don't makes sense/aren't clear--you never know what your fervered brain might have done at this stressful point in the process.
Step 5: whenever you need to Take a little break and think of other things. Really really try not to let the grant app take over your life, or go in the slot where actual writing is supposed to go.
Pep talk: Think about how lucky we are to be writers writing grant applications. Dance, visual art, and musical profressionals have to write them just like we do, only their chosen profession is *not* putting their ideas down on paper in the best possible way. It could be so much worse--imagine having to sing your application, or paint it.
Step 6: a few days before you send the whole thing out Take the best [however many pages you need] from the project as started, or of a past project that is similar in style, and format them according to the specifications of the application. This should be stuff that's been previously edited and proofread--I would strongly suggest that you not add that to the sundry grant-app pressures--it should be ready-to-go materials taht have been previously submitted it for publication or were actually published or just stuff you have already gotten to a point where you are happy with it. Of course, there's no reason you *can't* be editing now, or even writing new materials if you feel you need to, but if that's your plan backdate the whole process a whole lot weeks, and brace yourself for the extra stress.
Step 7: at least a week before the deadline if you are mailing it Package everything up in an appropriate new envelope (just this once: spring for exactly the right size instead of trying to cut down/tape together/recycle an envelope), address it carefully, and take it to the post office to be weighed and stamped. If you are a tense type (ie., me) you'll probably need to pay a lot of money to have a mailing option with a tracking number--suck it up and save the receipt for tax season, since it is a professional expense.
Pep talk #2 Try to think of grant applying as part of the job description of being a writer (unless you don't believe in grants, in which case, why have you read so far in this post?) When I fretted about it not being worth all that time and energy for a grant that I probably wouldn't get since I was just starting and I should just get on with the project anyway, my mom pointed out that since I was *going* to do the project anyway, and work very hard on it, it would be silly not to even suggest to anyone that I get paid a bit for all that work. No one, I don't think, is entitled to a grant just for working hard, but we are certainly all entitled to ask.
Exception to pep talk Don't apply for grants if it will eat up all the time you have for writing. If you are that pressed for time that regular adherence to the grant application schedule would make you more a grant-applier than a writer, it's obvious which one has got to go. It's the work that matters.
Step 8: after mailing app, for about 4-6 months Forget it. Go write something. Apply for a different grant. Talk to your loved ones. Look at kittens!
Step 9: 4-6 months later An envelope comes in the mail. We've all been trained by *The Facts of Life* to think that thick envelopes mean acceptance and thin mean rejection, but there's often a lot of extraneous forms in there, so you'll have to open it to know, probably standing in the foyer of your building, with a pizza guy glaring at the back of your head.
If you get rejected, feel surprised and a bit sad...say to yourself (and others if they ask) "Huh, I thought that was a pretty good application. Well, can't win'em all." Then go file the letter, or log it in your spreadsheet, or make it into a paper airplane, or whatever it is you do. Get someone who likes you to buy you a drink.
Pep talk #3 Canada Council funds about 20% of grant applications, and Toronto Arts Council perhaps 22-24% (I don't have other stats, but feel free to extrapolate or share). That's because that's what they have the money for, not because all the other apps they get are unworthy, or even that the committees think they are. I've never sat a committee myself, nor even known anyone who has well enough to ask more than general questions, but I firmly believe they weed out all the bad ideas, bad writing, and crazy writers, and then put the good sane materials in a hat, out of which they draw names until they run out of money. Believe that you were in the hat, ok? Rejection doesn't mean it was a bad project; it means this wasn't your year. Feel surprised and a bit sad, and put it behind you. It's the work that matters.
Note: if you have information that contradicts my theory, sure, let me know; if you have a *theory* that contradicts my theory, please keep it to yourself and allow me to remain relatively Rose-coloured.
If you get accepted, feel surprised and extremely thrilled. Hop about for a bit (you should probably leave the foyer now, and let the poor pizza guy in.) Tell someone who likes you (and buy him/her a drink); toast yourself and your good work and good luck. Examine all the paperwork they've sent you so that you know how to a) get your money, b) file your taxes, and c) fill the Final Reports that are months away from being due, at which point you will have lost every piece of paper telling you how or where to send them or what to say. Or, erm, not, because you are not as dopey as some of us.
Ok, now get back to work. And for heaven's sake, don't put that you've received a grant in your author bio, unless it's in print with the work that the grant actually funded, and the granters are being credited--otherwise, that's like putting your salary on your resume. Getting paid is nice but it's--wait for it--the work that matters.
Good luck, everybody! And if you find something erroneous, confusing, or missing in this post, please get in touch!
Keep the faith
RR
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