Oooooh, the potential for procrastination this site promises! :) It's called Art Pad, and it's a digital canvas that allows you to not only paint your own pieces (although the colors are a little limited) but to also watch a movie of your piece being created stroke-by-stroke, to add your piece to the gallery for all the world to see, and to even add to other's painting and watch their creation movies. (If you click on that link, it takes you straight to my masterpiece, "Sun on the Lake." Be sure to be duly impressed.) Now some of these people are _serious_ artists, and their stuff doubly impressive after trying to make your own; I was quite frustrated to find I couldn't even draw a straight line. (Although that might be due more to the fact that, even though I'm left-handed, I've always used my mouse and track pad with my right hand, so when I try to draw I'm having to use my left hand in a way I've never used it before.)
Anyway, have fun, knock yourself out, and be sure to put the link to your piece in a comment to me so I can go look! :)
Friday, February 25, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
That'll leave a mark...
I got my first official professional book review today in Publisher's Weekly. I couldn't read it until Dan did, because I was too freaked out. Well, let me just say I'm SO relieved to have been getting extremely positive feedback from the "regular" folks who've read it so far, or else I might have been writing this from under the bed.
Some writers say they don't read their reviews. I might take that stance after this. But the thing is I'm just so freaking curious, and I'd hate to have someone say, "What do you think about the comment So-and-So made in their review?" and not have any idea what they're talking about. Although I suppose it sounds very aloof and unconcerned to say, "Oh, I don't read the reviews," and give people the sense that you are confident enough in your work to not care one whit about what the critics say. But the problem is that I care very, very much what the critics have to say. I shouldn't, I know, especially since the people I trust to be honest with me have gushed so far. But then of course you start wondering just how honest they were, and if they were too afraid of bursting your bubble to give you the straight poop.
And to be completely honest, I can't even read my book without finding eight million things I wish I'd changed, and while they might not have made an ounce of difference with the critic, I could have at least been able to say the final product was _exactly_ what I wanted, rather than thinking, "Dangit, I wonder if I can fix all those things and release a second edition..."
This is one of those times when the artist in me really ticks me off. I take my work so personally, I can't just shrug off people's cutting comments. And I'm sure I'll get used to them eventually, not that getting to that point is really something I want to do, seeing as it will require a LOT of cutting remarks. Or maybe I'll learn to stifle my curiosity and turn up my nose at the detractors. We'll see.
Some writers say they don't read their reviews. I might take that stance after this. But the thing is I'm just so freaking curious, and I'd hate to have someone say, "What do you think about the comment So-and-So made in their review?" and not have any idea what they're talking about. Although I suppose it sounds very aloof and unconcerned to say, "Oh, I don't read the reviews," and give people the sense that you are confident enough in your work to not care one whit about what the critics say. But the problem is that I care very, very much what the critics have to say. I shouldn't, I know, especially since the people I trust to be honest with me have gushed so far. But then of course you start wondering just how honest they were, and if they were too afraid of bursting your bubble to give you the straight poop.
And to be completely honest, I can't even read my book without finding eight million things I wish I'd changed, and while they might not have made an ounce of difference with the critic, I could have at least been able to say the final product was _exactly_ what I wanted, rather than thinking, "Dangit, I wonder if I can fix all those things and release a second edition..."
This is one of those times when the artist in me really ticks me off. I take my work so personally, I can't just shrug off people's cutting comments. And I'm sure I'll get used to them eventually, not that getting to that point is really something I want to do, seeing as it will require a LOT of cutting remarks. Or maybe I'll learn to stifle my curiosity and turn up my nose at the detractors. We'll see.
*sniff*
If you haven't yet seen "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" it's time to get out from under the rock you so obviously live beneath and tune into ABC on Sunday nights. Dan and I have been recording them so we can fast forward through the commercials, and tonight we watched one as we munched Hamburger Helper. Just the theme music from that show makes me cry. What some of these people go through is just incredible. Death, cancer, disease, extreme allergies, fire, flood...you name it. I've noticed this season that the houses aren't quite as over-the-top as they were the first season, but I don't see any of those families complaining. And frankly, I'm glad they've scaled down some of the projects a bit, especially given some of the neighborhoods these people are in. I remember the Sweet Alice episode and thinking, "Will they include a security guard in the package for that poor old woman?! She's living in Watts, for crying out loud!!"
Tonight we watched last week's two part episode with the two homeless families in Denver, and as always, it just broke my heart. Someone on the design team made the comment that the experience really changed their view of what "homeless people" were, because you tend to think alcoholic, drug addict, deadbeat, etc., but here were two families who found themselves on the streets through no fault of their own. And I felt sooooo convicted, because how many times have I thought, "If they'd just laid off the booze, they wouldn't be there," and never stopped to think that perhaps they got laid-off with no savings in the bank. As one of the other people at the homeless shelter said, "Most of America is two weeks away from being homeless," and when I checked out our account balances this evening, I realized just how little it would take to send us into the red.
(An aside: as I typed that "If they'd just laid off the booze" comment, I realized that that's no excuse for their homelessness, either. What put them on it in the first place? Abuse? Mental illness? Can I blame them for that? Heck no! So really there isn't anyone I should think of as having "earned" their homelessness.)
So here's what I'm thinking. There are currently 295,540,624 in America. Let's assume that 3/4 of them have a buck to spare. That would be $221,665,468. Surely with that much money we could get some systems in place to take care of these folks, detox them and medicate them and shelter and feed and clothe them and help them get back on their feet. I'm not saying we build them each a house, I'm just saying we make it possible for them to focus their energy on something other than where their next meal is coming from or whether or not they'll get attacked while they sleep in the park tonight.
So is this ever going to happen? Probably not, although those stories of "13 year old starts campaign to help the homeless and raises $1 Million" do pop up every now and then, and one would think that a 29 year old would be able to figure out something even more lucrative than that 13 year old did. But doesn't it kinda make you wonder when you realize how much we could do if everyone just donated their toll change or coffee money or spare change from their sofa JUST ONCE to one giant fund? Any fund, really. Cancer research, tsunami relief, busting drug rings and child trade rings and who knows what else. What if we set up a yearly fund, and each year we all gave one dollar to the same charity. Holy freaking cow, can you imagine the difference we could make? Imagine telling the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, "Here's $221, 665, 468--go do some research." And then the next year telling Habitat for Humanity, "Go build some houses." Wow.
Well that's one soapbox I didn't expect to step on tonight. Just thought I'd write a little post singing the praises of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and here I am waxing visionary. Let me know if you have any ideas on how to start that Giant Rotating Fund....
Tonight we watched last week's two part episode with the two homeless families in Denver, and as always, it just broke my heart. Someone on the design team made the comment that the experience really changed their view of what "homeless people" were, because you tend to think alcoholic, drug addict, deadbeat, etc., but here were two families who found themselves on the streets through no fault of their own. And I felt sooooo convicted, because how many times have I thought, "If they'd just laid off the booze, they wouldn't be there," and never stopped to think that perhaps they got laid-off with no savings in the bank. As one of the other people at the homeless shelter said, "Most of America is two weeks away from being homeless," and when I checked out our account balances this evening, I realized just how little it would take to send us into the red.
(An aside: as I typed that "If they'd just laid off the booze" comment, I realized that that's no excuse for their homelessness, either. What put them on it in the first place? Abuse? Mental illness? Can I blame them for that? Heck no! So really there isn't anyone I should think of as having "earned" their homelessness.)
So here's what I'm thinking. There are currently 295,540,624 in America. Let's assume that 3/4 of them have a buck to spare. That would be $221,665,468. Surely with that much money we could get some systems in place to take care of these folks, detox them and medicate them and shelter and feed and clothe them and help them get back on their feet. I'm not saying we build them each a house, I'm just saying we make it possible for them to focus their energy on something other than where their next meal is coming from or whether or not they'll get attacked while they sleep in the park tonight.
So is this ever going to happen? Probably not, although those stories of "13 year old starts campaign to help the homeless and raises $1 Million" do pop up every now and then, and one would think that a 29 year old would be able to figure out something even more lucrative than that 13 year old did. But doesn't it kinda make you wonder when you realize how much we could do if everyone just donated their toll change or coffee money or spare change from their sofa JUST ONCE to one giant fund? Any fund, really. Cancer research, tsunami relief, busting drug rings and child trade rings and who knows what else. What if we set up a yearly fund, and each year we all gave one dollar to the same charity. Holy freaking cow, can you imagine the difference we could make? Imagine telling the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, "Here's $221, 665, 468--go do some research." And then the next year telling Habitat for Humanity, "Go build some houses." Wow.
Well that's one soapbox I didn't expect to step on tonight. Just thought I'd write a little post singing the praises of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and here I am waxing visionary. Let me know if you have any ideas on how to start that Giant Rotating Fund....
Friday, February 18, 2005
Got fairy dust?
Dan and I went to see "Finding Neverland" this afternoon. Wow. Beautiful movie. So sweet and heartbreaking and...beautiful. No violence, no explosive arguments (or explosive anything, for that matter), no foul language...just a gentle story. And Depp wasn't hard on the eyes, either. If you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and go. It's obvious why it's been nominated for seven Oscars. I hope it wins them all.
Prayer therapy
I got so fed up with myself this morning.
I come from the Quiet Time Journaling tradition. The one where you record your prayers in some giant spiral bound notebook--or in my care, in an ever-growing document that currently has more pages than my next novel--typically while following the "ACTS" outline: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication. And for the last few weeks, this prayer form has struck me as being so inadequate. I realized today that I could basically cut and paste yesterday's entry in for today, change the date, add a thank you for last night's dinner out with my teaching friends, and be done. And I realized that this is not what prayer is.
Prayer is supposed to be conversation with God, is it not? And yet I'm the one doing all the talking. Or writing, as the case may be. And I'm a broken record when it comes to my side of the conversation. Honestly, I don't know how NOT to be. I thank him for the same things every day because I'm always thankful for them, I ask him for the same things every day because I still want them. I ask his forgiveness for the same things every day because I'm a dense pattern sinner who can't seem to find her way out of the rut. So how do I do these things without my prayer life becoming mindless?
I was poking around Lisa Samson's blog again today and saw a link to another blog called "Ragamuffin Diva." The Diva's most recent entry was about her husband's Valentine's Day gift to her: Anglican prayer beads. She talked about the symbolism of the various beads, the prayers she prayed, the prayer book she had that someone had given her. And it reminded me of the book, "Girl Meets God," which you really must read if you haven't yet. She was a devout Jew who converted to Christianity and attended a church full of ritual and tradition--like the celebration of Advent, which I didn't even know the meaning of until reading that book. And I got the same feeling reading the Diva's blog that I did reading that book: that there was a whole other side to prayer and Christianity that I've never glimpsed, and I'm starting to feel cheated.
You see, I think I'm a Catholic trapped in a nondenominational-Protestant body. I think all those things the modern church shies away from--the symbolism, the tradition, the ritual--are the things that most draw me to God. Heck, when it comes to tradition and ritual in other aspects of my life, I LOVE them, I expect them, and am profoundly disappointed when they're overlooked or forgotten by the others in my life. So it would make sense that I'd thrive on them in my spiritual life. And I understand why the church has tried to rid itself of those trappings, that the traditions and rituals became the priority and the whole relationship-with-God thing sorta fell by the wayside because people mistook them as being the end instead of the means. But I think we've gone so far in the other direction that we've lost our spiritual heritage, and with it, a very important connection to the mystery of God. And I feel like, if I could just tap back into it, the whole prayer thing would just open up for me.
Or maybe I'm just a flake when it comes to prayer, and it doesn't really matter what form it takes, because I'll fall back into the cut-n-paste prayer life every time.
So now I pose this question to those of you who stumbled in today: what form does your daily prayer life take? Are you a journaler? Have you figured out how to keep it from becoming rote? Are you an in-your-head prayer? How do you keep your mind from wandering? Are you a traditionalist and ritualist? Prayer-bead user, stations-of-the-cross walker? I look now to my brothers and sisters in the faith to give me a little prayer therapy.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Musical Muses
I was walking around the RSM Lake this morning, trying to squeeze in some exercise before the rain starts again, and listening to Joni Mitchell on my Discman. I think "Court and Spark" is one of the best albums in my collection, which isn't saying a whole lot, considering how meagre it is. But truly, it's such a work of art. And by the time I had half a lap under my belt, I'd started writing a sequel to "Worlds Collide" in my head. There were so many little things in those songs that made me think of the characters and some of their possible futures. One song, called "Other People's Parties," has a line that cracks me up now every time I hear it: "And Jack behind his joker and stone-cold Grace behind her fan..." There they are, my two main characters, together in a song that I hadn't even heard until the book was written.
There are some people whose music never fails to jumpstart my writing. Joni Mitchell, Plumb, Norah Jones, Billy Joel, Tori Amos. "Worlds Collide" got its start partially from the song "Worlds Collide" on Plumb's album, candycoatedwaterdrops. My second book got its start from Norah's "The Painter Song," on her first album. Joni's song "Troubled Child" has been pinging around my head and I think I know what story it's going to produce somewhere down the line.
It's sad, really, that my music collection is as small as it is, considering how important music is to me. I have a hard time spending money on albums, usually because I think, "What if that song from the radio is the only one I like and I just wasted $15?" and I'm such a freaking miser. I got all excited when I saw that Napster was doing this whole "unlimited songs for $15 a month" deal, until I tried to use it and found out they don't support Apple OS. Blast! Now _that_ I would have done in a heartbeat.
So, a question for those of you who create any kind of art at all: do you have any musical muses? Or, for that matter, any particular medium or experience that turns on your creative faucet?
Friday, February 11, 2005
And so it begins...
You know, five minutes ago I was all excited about starting this blog. And now I'm faced with this giant empty field just waiting for me to type in something really profound or insightful or at least mildly entertaining. And it's just so not happening. I pop into Lisa Samson's blog now and then, and she's really got it down. And she manages to make the weirdest things so interesting, and writes so well about all these little thoughts she has. Which is why her books are so awesome; she is A Writer for sure. Whether or not I get to join her in those ranks remains to be seen.
This whole blog phenomenon is really something. Same with websites. Think of your great-great-great-great grandparents, living back in the 1800's, and how many people knew them. Their family, their neighbors, the other townfolk. And now fast-forward to 2005 and people in Taiwan can read this totally useless information about a not-at-all-well-known author. Our great-great-great-great grandparents probably hadn't even heard of Taiwan. It's mind-boggling.
Time to sew a button on my husband's shirt. If you've been here, please leave a little note. There's nothing worse than shouting into the vast expanse of cyberspace and getting nothing back but the echo of your own blog....
Blessings and grace,
Alison
This whole blog phenomenon is really something. Same with websites. Think of your great-great-great-great grandparents, living back in the 1800's, and how many people knew them. Their family, their neighbors, the other townfolk. And now fast-forward to 2005 and people in Taiwan can read this totally useless information about a not-at-all-well-known author. Our great-great-great-great grandparents probably hadn't even heard of Taiwan. It's mind-boggling.
Time to sew a button on my husband's shirt. If you've been here, please leave a little note. There's nothing worse than shouting into the vast expanse of cyberspace and getting nothing back but the echo of your own blog....
Blessings and grace,
Alison
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