Space Station Mir

"If you want a room to write in, just get a room...If it doesn't leak, has a window, heat in the winter, then put in your desk, bookshelves, a soft chair, and start writing." "We make these exquisite rooms of silence and then long to write in noisy, chaotic cafés...It is natural in our studios to have books lying open, at least one cup half filled with old black tea, papers spread out, piles of unanswered letters, a graham cracker box, shoes kicked under the desk, a watch with a broken second hand lying on the floor." -"The Writing Studio," Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg, p.103 I'm reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg as part of my preparation for NaNoWriMo, and nothing relieved me like reading the words above. I've been trying to perfect "my room" for more than a year now, and it's still messy and full of boxes and papers and piles on the floor (read: books). I've b...

54. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon I took Outlander when it turned up at the Little Free Library nearest me. I'd been meaning to see why it's so popular, especially after the TV show came out. Not enough to get it until it was right in front of me, though. I haven't seen the show, and I'm not especially eager to now, but if it came on a channel I was watching, I wouldn't say no. That's kind of how I feel about the book. It's amusing, it's engaging--I'm one of those people who finds the idea of a 1940s woman who suddenly ends up in the 1740s interesting--but it doesn't go anywhere I especially appreciate with it, on an intellectual level anyway. Outlander , in my opinion, is extremely well-done costume drama *cough* erotica *cough*. For those purposes, it serves admirably. Gabaldon creates a convincing atmosphere of 1740s Scotland and a compelling chemistry between Claire, the 1940s English nurse, and Jamie, the 1740s Scottish outlaw laird. As ...

Happy Top Ten Tuesday! Ok, I could only come up with four. But they're doozies. 1. Threats to the reader Look in the margin. I can't even talk about it. 2. Madwomen in the attic 3. Being Trapped in Animal Form Tobias. 4. Roald Dahl Involves characters trapped in animal form, among other things.

So, it's not National Poetry Month anymore , but I read poetry anyway! I liked individual poems I'd read by Billy Collins, specifically "Introduction to Poetry," so awhile ago, I picked up Sailing Alone Around the Room . Probably when I was in that phase a few years ago when I thought I should read poetry, but I didn't really want to. I picked up The Romantic Dogs by Roberto Bolaño around the same time. I remember buying the latter at Kramerbooks . So, earlier last month, I put both books in my purse and walked around with them for a while, like I did Leigh Stein's Dispatch from the Future and Liliana Ursu's Lightwall . I guess I must read books of poetry in twos, one in English and one in translation? No, I have no idea what the reason is for this completely random trend. I also bought both of those books way before I read them. But I think the trick with poetry (for me) has been both forcing myself into the opportunity of reading poetry AND...

So, today was the National Day on Writing. I participated in an event for it at work, and observed the hashtag #WhyIWrite on Twitter today. There are simply a lot of answers to why I write, and what I wrote on Twitter is kind of cliche: Because I have no choice. I remember at a very early age wanting to write because that was how I knew I would be remembered after death. I saw that as my legacy. I wanted to write because I wanted people to know I was here. I had been here. I've always thought of myself as writing to future generations, because I always read books from the past as having been written for me. It seemed so obvious to me. Why would you NOT write? Why didn't everyone write? If I'm being honest, that's something I still don't understand! =P Writing is a time capsule: evidence of our existence. When I write, I picture a future human, a cyborg, or an alien reading and relating to my work. Maybe thousands of years after I am dead. Maybe millenia after...

Haven't posted in a while since I've been so busy, so it's a great opportunity to do Bookishly Boisterous's Thursday meme (which I mostly creep on instead of participating). 1. Yesterday, I did a presentation for a bunch of kindergarteners on how to write a story. I think it went reasonably well. Fernanda, a five-year-old girl, and Lenny, a 21-year-old cat who has escaped from the South, embark on a journey to space, but get stuck in their rocket and crash-land on the Seastar Planet. Unfortunately, they are attacked by starfish wielding lasers, who kick them off the planet. Rocket ship miraculously working again, Fernanda and Lenny travel to Mars, but are interrupted by crashing meteors (everyone knows there are lots of meteors on Mars, according to one five-year-old boy). Following their Mars adventure, Fernanda and Lenny may or may not have traveled to Jupiter and the moon, but the upshot of it is they land on Earth and are glad to be home and safe with Fernanda...