Thoughts about The Shadow of the Wind...and other stuff

The Shadow of the Wind is an epic, a mystery with romance, and it has just enough Gothic creepy edge to it to make it special—it’s a lovely book, read it, get lost in it, find and absorb all the good from it—and it’s got the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, what more can I ask for as a book lover?

"This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down the pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader's hands."  From page 5-6

This is the quote that caught me firmly into the teeth of this book—only because of my own life experience and emotional connection to books put me there. When I walk into antique shops, I go find their corners where there are old books and I search for ones that I must adopt—it always makes me sad to see them languishing, unread—being the imaginative person that I am, I feel these inanimate objects have an essence about them that is in a sense alive—a soul—it is the spirit of the person who wrote them, the person who bought them, the person who read them (loved them.)

I often look at all of the books in our personal library and wonder—“Will I ever get around to reading them again or reading the ones I haven’t read yet?” And then I sometimes go the extra step further to make it worse and wonder, “Who will take care of my books after I’m gone?” (Painful isn’t it?)

So...with that said...I recently went with my sister to Bouckville, NY to do antique shopping...and of course, I look for old books to "adopt" this time, I found Kipling's Jungle Books, Volumes 1 and 2, illustrated by Aldren Watson, published by Double Day & Co. 1948...they are gorgeous! Volume 2 is his collected short stories, which I was very happy to find...I mean, who doesn't love Rikki-Tikki Tavi?

He creeps up the little creeks that men think would not hide a dog...

Kaa...I always thought he was a very cool serpent...

 Of course, the books were not all that I adopted! I found lots of cool old goodies...

An iron bank (very rusty) and it's a donkey! I could not pass it up!

A compass and a scribe

A pretty yellow ware bowl, not as old as others that I have, but I like the blue stripe...

Old bridle bits...I wish they weren't painted black, but I guess someone thought it would make them more "decorative" that way...paint comes off (but it isn't a priority at the moment.)

I'm still slowly recovering from the shingles (it's been two months already.) The good news is, it isn't the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, so that's progress. What a wretched illness to have...I went all day yesterday without taking my pain meds, I did very well, I hardly thought about the pain at all, but today I am, which is not a good start to the day, it is what it is...so I'm going to mellow out and not let it get me down. I do believe the rash part is finally done...one trick I learned out of desperation...use Listerine on that shitty rash! It stings like crazy, but sends the itch away with its tail tucked between its legs...there is something very satisfying about that sting, trust me on this. Other things I've done to take the edge off when the drugs seem like they're not working (there have been days when it seemed pointless to take stuff that only made me feel dull witted or loopy): gentle stretching does help A LOT, a TENS unit is also a good thing to invest in and use as needed...most of all, patience and be good to yourself, REST (I read a lot and I played a lot of Majong just to concentrate on something else.) That is my advice for shingles.

In spite of being sick and having the shittiest concentration in the world because of pain and pain killers, I have continued to work my way through my manuscript Drinking from the Fishbowl. Even if I work on a paragraph or two at night, I am happy that I've done something that resembles progress. I'm currently in chapter 36, which was once two chapters (36 and 37), but it is now only one...I've practically rewritten the whole thing, there's barely anything original left...I "killed some darlings" that came from the first draft, and I'm happy they're gone. How does one do that? Well, it's not an easy decision to make, but once I made up my mind to do it and carried it out, there was a sense of relief and the flow continued. Let's just say, it wasn't my favorite pair of chapters, and they came from a "different place" than where the book is today, it has evolved and matured beyond its initial conception. I am constantly reminded that this manuscript is only the second novel I ever wrote, and it was initially loaded with some goofy shit that no longer fit in...I'm still tweaking it, nursing it along...of course, whenever large swaths of text are cut out, there's that stone tossed into the pond thing that happens, the ripples travel into other chapters and I have to be vigilant as I travel into these final chapters. Nothing is written in stone in this manuscript...this book can continue to grow and change (evolve.) I even had a crazy thought about wiping out even more, three chapters (34, 35 and even 36)...this possibility is still being investigated (since I'm still thinking about it), but I don't think I can disentangle parts that are deeply ingrained into the structure...a fresh printing of the chapters in question and a pair of scissors might help me piece it together... it's a work in progress. (I love it!)

...[he] stands alone, a solitary tree in an open field of emotions. - from Chapter 18, Drinking from the Fishbowl

From my acre of the world...

Autumn Glory...I planted a package of Heavenly Blue Morning Glories and they came up purple...go figure...

This Walking Stick came marching up to me with such purpose, I thought for sure he had something to say to me...

Oh, Wooly Bear...what are you trying to tell me with those colors of yours? Will we have a real winter this year?

The Spider's House

Solitary leaf

One of my favorite blues...

I'm always amazed when my shaky hands snap a good shot...

A duo...

Summer is winding down and I'm getting closer to finishing my manuscript, Drinking from the Fishbowl...I'm taking my sweet old time with it, being very careful...perhaps too cautious...at times I fear it has become a monster, but then, as soon as I return to it, I realize that it isn't at all, it is exactly the way I've wanted it to be, and I've been taking great care to trim away what is unnecessary and embellishing the details to tell the story. I've been a bit distracted, so when my focus is off, I don't bother trying to do any editing when I'm like this, and I turn my attention to other things, short things like poems or something like sifting through all of my photos and picking the best ones for possible prints some day...

It is a balancing act that I perform everyday...and everyday I remind myself how fortunate that I am, in spite of so much that could have held me back, and the overwhelming pain and other peculiar symptoms that I deal with on my FMS bad days, I have kept going forward...

March roaring in...part 2

How cool are these? My Fred treated me to a photo fest on Friday afternoon, these old steel-faced printing blocks are gorgeous!

This is how books used to be done...some day, I'd like to work with a letterpress (like Syracuse's very own Boxcar Press or Amaranth Press and Bindery) and make a limited edition book of Po-emz...gotta write some first (well, I do have a few, just not sure if they should see the light of day or not.)

Wow, it's been a while since I posted here...

Snowing today, rain by tomorrow or Tuesday...sunny and 50's by Wednesday (snow all gone until the next time a front passes by with some to share.) For now, the wind that blew away February has calmed down, the flurries are falling in a gentle manner, steady and abundant, reminding us that it is winter after all...

A red squirrel and a gray squirrel were fighting over a peanut outside my studio window a little while ago...a very dramatic furry fight...gray squirrel held on to that peanut, red squirrel just bitched about it while rifling through the leaves at the base of the lilac bush, the gray bushy tail with pale ears munching the prize...once the peanut was eaten the fight was over, gray squirrel went one way, red squirrel went the other...gotta love the backyard drama...

I've been painting much of today and yesterday, and when not painting, editing Chapter 35 of Drinking from the Fishbowl...it's coming along, tightening up, expanding a bit, these last few chapters were always a little thin and felt rushed to me. I'm glad to be spending time with them and making them right...it's a long process, at times arduous (writing a book is a lot about patience), but I'm enjoying the immersion now that I'm returning to the rhythm of it after being so out of sorts for several months, I felt like I was reading and not comprehending anything I had written. Sometimes it's hard to talk about what I'm working on only because I fear boring people with the process, it's like watching grass grow, okay? Some nights I'll work on one paragraph...and the next night, the same paragraph, only I change a word here, add another sentence there...the next night, take that sentence out, change that word back to the original word. (See what I mean?) You'd think I'd know what I want to say by now...I don't believe a book is ever truly finished, I could go back and rework it endlessly...the story will remain the same, but the words might be rearranged to tell it better. (What the hell right? If Stephen King can say the Dark Tower series is done at last, and then add another book in the middle of it a few years later, that's entirely up to him - it's his story to tell, and if it's still being told, let him tell it. If I want to shake my fist and say: "You bastard!" That's fine too. ) I do love Fishbowl, even though I've had such a time with it, the darn thing came from my earliest efforts as a writer, before I really had my literary shit together. I'm sure not everyone will like it just because they can, but the ones who will like it, will appreciate it for what it is...it's a psychological study, the loyalty of friends, a love story (with a little bit of a nod to soap opera's, which makes it a social comedy of sorts, tho' a little darker in a grim sort of way)...it's a book about dreams and realities. I'm glad that I haven't rushed it...it's going to be a better book for the extra effort on my part. I'm sure everyone who has an opinion will try to tell me how to write it, but see, the thing is...it is written the way I want to tell it, it has it's own voice, and who's to say that voice is right or wrong. I'm quite satisfied so far...but then, it's been several years in the making, and I haven't read the first chapter since March 16th of last year...so you see...who knows what I'll find when I pick up the printed hard copy later this spring once I'm ready to do the final pass through this summer! I'm a different writer now than I was a year ago, my vision has sharpened, not that I'm going to carry it off to another realm, there might be something that I've learned since then that I will need to apply to the earlier chapters...

I know I'm excited. It's a beautiful thing.

Last years debris and a flower of hope...

Leaf Lace, 4/24/2011

Collage, 4/24/2011

Debris, 4/24/2011

Leaf Lace, fragment, 4/24/2011

Overlap, 4/24/2011

Lace, 4/24/2011

Old Lace, 4/24/2011

Stone, cracked, 4/24/2011

 

A little bit of hope... 4/24/2011

We're in the midst of the 6th rainiest April on record, so it just seems bleak up here on our little acre of the world, but it isn't all that bad, just damp and the rain has been much more gentle than the bluster of last weekend that pulled off a dozen shingles from our roof...(have since been replaced by my Fred during one of the few breaks in the rain!)

I know when I see the little white violets pushing through last year's debris that spring is here at last...as much as I love the colts foot, daffodils, and squill, the violets with their sweet scent take me back to times when I was very young, picking fistfuls of these for my mom in the woods behind our house, it was literally a carpet of violets out there, and the smell of them was overwhelming...I spent happy days surrounded by violets so I was very happy to find them here when we moved in...

I'm still focusing my little point n' shoot camera at the debris of leaves and bits of weeds...the pale lacy remains have been beautiful finds...

I've been slowly working my way through Part 2 of Drinking from the Fishbowl, this seems to be in better shape than Part 1, as I recall, it didn't require as much work before...and I believe Part 3 is also going to be relatively easy...which naturally makes me suspicious, so I know I'll back track backwards through the chapters, going line by line, paragraph by paragraph before too long...as I should before I publish it...I'm hoping not to overtax myself like I did while working on The Fractured Hues of White Light and Dusty Waters I've learned so many lessons with those two, this should be easier...should be. You'd think. The self-doubt demons have been nibbling at me again...challenging me...saying mean things...just when I'm convinced that the book is truly awful, I pick it up to work on it and realize there's nothing wrong with it, it's fine, it has it's voice, it has a solid story, the characters have something to say...so I will continue with my leisurely pace, picking away at it, taking my time to make it right...

Always looking...

Hollyhock stalk with seed buds, 12/11/2010

Snowdrift, 12/11/2010

 I'm a bit sick of the snow...it's blowing and raining today, tomorrow there will be more snow after this current mess passes by and triggers more lake effect snow, pretty much the same weather set up as last week (oh, joy.)

My yard has been invaded by a flock of starlings wearing their winter speckles, I love hearing their chatter!

My dog is dreaming, and barking in his sleep.

Thought I'd throw in some pictures I took last week of an old door...

 

 I'm a sucker for old weather beaten wood...I love the shapes, the colors, and textures of this door...and it's got the character scratches left behind by an eager dog begging to go out or just glad to see you coming home, sort of like a written history of someone coming home. I'm always looking for inspiration somewhere...

I've been slightly under the weather...maybe weather related, maybe just worn out, but I'm plugging along, the snow is melting, and winding up in my basement, the sump-pumps are in action taking care of that mess...it's warm enough for lady bugs to come out.

I've written a raw bit for my latest manuscript, Layers of Illusion...my main character, Eleanor spoke up last night and started a rant about television, so I had to listen to her and write it down...so here it is, warts n' all...

*

The television makes me uneasy—everything about the little innocuous box makes me feel un-easy. Too much focus on fear in the news—the world is being overrun by terrorists in turbans (but it seems we have enough of our home-grown variety to worry about), in politics, the Republicans are the Party of Boo! The old fear mongers are constantly being grim-faced negative about everything under the sun that might possibly be good for the people, the bastards. You gotta love how manufactured anger has permeated our society; human disasters implode in our faces every day. Natural disasters seem to be everywhere (they used to be a rare thing when I was a kid), good grief, I never heard of a tsunami until Indonesia got slammed, and now it seems there are tsunami’s (or the potential of one) all the time—what the hell, right? What irritates me even more—every Made for TV Movie is exploiting someone’s unfortunate tragedy for the entertainment of us! Someone is always in trouble, chronically; someone always getting hurt, badly; someone always getting ripped off, incessantly; someone always getting killed, senselessly. Anything brought forth that is positive is so over the top saccharine I could cry my eyeballs out. Yes—I cry at the drop of a hat these days—especially around the holidays, even the commercials are on the tear-jerker setting at full blast. Initially, I was blaming it on hormones, but now, no, I’ve come to realize that I've been marketed to distraction by a media that is bludgeoning my emotions every time I turn on the television. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I unplugged the fucking thing, hauled it into the hallway outside my apartment with the hope that someone will take it. From that moment on I vowed that I will rely on NPR to give me the news reports with their kind, level-headed voices that drone at a volume that is set to relax—sure the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but wait, there is still hope for something better. Hope, I need a good dose of that for my frazzled nerves, I could listen to that shit forever—sure beats the hopeless drumbeat on television. Sometimes I don’t get out of my car right away when I get home at night, I want to finish listening to the story they’re talking about, and then the next one, and then the next. No matter how bad the news is, there is a gentle hum of hope. At least I don't feel like banging my head against the wall or becoming a ranting lunatic toting a gun for a no good reason.

No one took the stupid television until I dragged it out to the common area by the elevators and taped a sign on it FREE! It sat there for a couple of days before it finally disappeared. I don't miss it, not one bit.

*

Eleanor Dean is still developing...growing. Her circumstances keep evolving in that mysterious way of writing a book, the road map is a twisty route from beginning to end, lots of stuff in the middle, some of it will stay, some of it will go the way of things...who knows if this latest piece will make it. She's a woman teetering on the edge, stuck on survive, suffering from one thing after another, being ground down by a cascading sequence of catastrophes, chucking out her television is a sign that she's trying to get a handle on her life. I'm letting the ideas simmer quietly, this has been going on for about 9-10 years, I have gathered at least 200 pages of bits and pieces like this (if not more), one day, I will print it all out, get my scissors and tape, and start piecing it together to create the whole. Goodness knows if it will actually become a book...I do have my doubts about it...but that's part of the process, and I'm okay with it.

Time.

Lake Effect

Bare Trees

The Crow in Snowy Weather

Grass in snow

Twigs in snow

Tangle Weeds

Tangle Weeds #2

Three Leaves

The Thin Leaf

Weeds n' Snow by the shed

Snow Dog

It's been snowing steady all weekend...bands of lake effect drifting down from Lake Ontario, our typical weather for this time of year...it's enough to make chipmunks go underground...but my dog, Max, turns into a snow bunny! I bundle up and walk with my cameras at the ready (yes, plural!) I started to become a wee bit uneasy when the lens on my little point n' shoot started to make funny noises when I start it up, and I even thought maybe it wasn't taking very good pictures anymore, so I bought the upgraded version of what I have (a Fuji Finepix 9MP to a 12MP), they're just little point n' shoot cameras, they're nothing fancy, I fear anything fancier would probably drive me nuts with too much and such, I learned on manual cameras with light meters and all the extra lenses and gear...I just want simple at this point, what I'm doing now is just a digital sketchbook, and I'm rather pleased with what I've accomplished thus far. Someday I'll buy the big SLR, gotta save my pennies. This selection of pictures came from both cameras...I'm pleased that both cameras performed well, the elder one did better in some cases because I'm more used to how it works...the little new one is going to take some getting used to, I thought it did a good job snagging a shot of the crow in the tree from the dining room window.

There goes the snowplow.

I wrote an essay about Grandma Moses for the newsletter at work, it was fun writing it, short n' sweet, and I finished it in 24 hours. (Not everything I write takes 11 years.)

I've been tinkering around with my manuscript (Drinking from the Fishbowl) on and off all weekend, I'm back tracking through chapters 1-5, having to hit the reset button to get back on track...minor changes, and good ones, I'm quite pleased with it.

I mailed off copies of The Fractured Hues of White Light to my two giveaway winners (at Goodreads) and I'm looking forward to hearing from both of them once they've finished. It's hard to tell with this one how readers are going to react, some like it, some don't. I'm fine with it.

The kitties are getting restless, Willy Big just came charging out of the den, pads skating around on the wood floor, Tiggy-Pooh is yodeling...must be getting near time to eat. There's a dog with his ears turned on...I think he wants to go O-U-T...I better suit up and do that...