Sermons, Conversations, and a Poem

What is it about me and the South African? He went and sat by the chair where my plate was already sitting and I was stuck. I tried to reach out to him a little. I think he probably alienates people with his tone and his formidable vocabulary. Some people can say a lot of big words and it's not distancing, like the poet Harryette Mullen, who gave a craft talk today to the writers. She used words that people out of graduate school couldn't understand and had to ask her to explicate. But she does it with such good cheer you don't feel stupid. Ricky said he's famous in South Africa as the premier curator of the country. He's going back there in a couple of months after seven years in the Pacific Northwest. His curating days are behind him but he wants to be where his friends are. We had a brief conversation (or rather I asked questions and listened) about friendship. He said after that he was done with his sermon for the day. Then he said it was actually his third sermon of the day. I don't know if he knows how to talk to people in a way that's not sermonizing. I'd like to put up a really smart, confident friend to speak for me.

Today I had a great experience with Harryette Mullen. I asked her to look at a poem and she agreed to do it over lunch. She had no obligation to look at anything of mine because I didn't come here as a poet, but she was good-natured enough to do it. She liked the poem and said it was publishable. She said I should send things to small and regional journals to get my name in print, and that would help me to the next stages, even for novels, she thought. Many things came her way just from having her name out there in the ether. She said there'll always be room for poetry that has something to say. She liked the water imagery in the poem. It was New Year Eve, Berlin, 1989.

Put a Simile on your Aphasia

Last night we had a slide show presentation by several visual artists. There was a wonderful bronzecaster called Camie Geary-Martin. I can appreciate some of what she goes through as I took a bronzecasting class in college. Another guy, Don Simon, has these colored pencil drawings that depict animals in juxtaposition with civilization. He has one called "Cows on Garbage" which shows Holsteins standing atop piles of garbage like at a dump. Another one called "River" has crocodiles amongst piles of tires. The texture of the tires and the crocodiles is remarkably similar. His work is amazing. The detail is precise. One woman likes old barns and factories and that's all she paints. Her slide show was, "And this is another barn in Connecticut, another barn in Connecticut, another barn in Connecticut..." A woman named Linda Howe does something called touchdrawing, which I can't explain, but the outcome is very sweeping and colorful. It was an interesting night. The last fellow had some very muddy paintings filled with abstract shapes that he explained in philosophical terms. The most I could decipher was "motif" and "arch." Someone in the audience pointed out that his shapes looked like the shadow created by an arch, not the arch itself. His answer was so convoluted I couldn't understand it, except he said "arch" is the basis for the word "architecture."

Tonight there was a talk on meditation by one of the founders, Jon Gregg. We all sat in the little meditation room, with candles lit, and he talked about the mind and its idiosyncrasies. It was about noticing stuff rather than trying to change everything. And not being so focussed on a particular goal when you work, to the exclusion of all the possibilities for creativity in other directions. Then there was a reading by the mentor poet Harryette Mullen. She is wonderfully inventive with words. I truly enjoyed her reading. She had one poem called "A Simile on your Aphasia."

Here in Vermont

I've finally arrived. I'm sitting in my studio, overlooking the little Gihon River, watching the clouds turn pale gold above the trees. I can see the tip of the roof of my house from here. We just had dinner. I sat with a South African man who used words like, "Insofar as..." It was a little intimidating talking to him. I tried to tell myself I was a reasonably intelligent being who could carry on a conversation but it didn't help much. He called J.K. Rowling's books essentially "bullshit." Where do you go from there? I had said she created a magical world people wanted to inhabit, the ultimate escapism. He said something about them not being wonderfully written, but now I think, that means he read them, doesn't it?

I have met many interesting people. Painters and sculptors and mixed-media artists. Everyone is embarked on big projects of their own and can relate to having all your marbles in one big basket. It's like talking another language here. I haven't seen anyone walking around talking on a cell phone. Not one person. It really is a retreat. It feels like I can work for more extended periods of time here. Six or more hours a day, split into two or three sections. I take a break in the middle of the day. Meals make good breaking points. I wake around 6 and hang around until 7:30 and time for breakfast. Go to the studio from breakfast, work until 12, then into lunch. Then reading and a nap, then back to the studio. Then dinner, and back to the studio again. Tonight there is a slide show presentation at 8 p.m., by the visual artists who want to present. It will give me a chance to check out the Lowe Lecture Hall, where I will do a reading on Sunday. I'm looking forward to seeing people's work. So far I've just heard about it, not seen anything. Everyone's working away in their studios in private.

The weather is beautiful: cool and sunny in the morning, warm and sunny in the afternoon. I've gradually peeled off more layers.

For Larry

I don't think I mentioned here that I found out my friend Larry Hertzog died of cancer. I had sent he and his wife Karen a postcard from California, not even knowing he had passed away. When I was randomly looking people I knew up on the computer I looked him up and found out what happened. I sent a letter to Karen to let her know how sorry I was and she gave me a call last night. Apparently he got a symptom in January and when they did the diagnostic tests the cancer was everywhere. He lived three months. Karen said cigarettes got him. It's so sad. She said when she was going through his office she found a framed poem I had sent them on the mantle. Thinking of him not being in his office is so strange. He was a successful television producer, who created the cult series Nowhere Man. Karen said he had two shows that were going to be made in Canada and they were going to move up there part time when he got sick. She is from Vancouver. She isn't going to do anything right away but try to clear up the estate. She decided to stay at her same job and stay in the States for at least a year or two. She said she never thought she'd be a widow at thirty-nine. I wish I had gotten the chance to talk to him one more time.

I'm off to Vermont tomorrow. I woke up very early this morning with lists in my head. I had to get up and start doing things. I'm mostly packed. I'm taking a smaller suitcase than I took to California and it's hard to fit everything in. When you're going somewhere for a month it's a little tricky to pack light. My computer stuff alone is going to weigh me down. I'll have a computer bag, backpack, purse, and suitcase.

I reread the Resident Handbook this morning and am beginning to get excited. I have a hard time realizing a trip is real until it's almost upon me. Now that it's happening tomorrow I can let myself look forward to it. Although I will miss William very much I hope I'll be able to enjoy it to the utmost. I'll bring the printed-out manuscript of SEA CHANGE but rely on the computer for everything else. They have printers at the Maverick Writing Studio where the work studios are.

Here's to the memory of Larry--a supportive, creative, and inspiring friend, who believed in the people around him and gave them hope. I'll miss him.

Comment Chaos

Now the comments by the writing group from reading SEA CHANGE are really driving me crazy. At this point in revision they're mostly complicated, entangled situations I have to make an alteration to because of a discrepancy somewhere, and untangling it enough to make the change is challenging. For example, the first time Connor and Reven see each other, is it the first day of summer school because Professor Greenspan must have just got back from leading the tour group? If so, why does Reven ask if Connor is a new student? How long was the tour? When did it end? Although these might seem to be simple problems, they're not. It's the butterfly effect. Connor's mother is on a tour of Greece and Italy. She decides to stay longer. When does the tour end in conjunction with Connor's graduation, which she misses? I don't know why this issue is tying my head in knots, because I have an entire timeline mapping out every day in the book, but somehow the floating "weeks" of things happening, like the tour, have escaped my eagle eye.

SEA CHANGE Chages

Finally had the momentous writing group where my manuscript was discussed. On the whole I think they liked it though they had many suggestions. They thought Connor seemed mature beyond his years at times (don't know if I can do much about that), he had a perhaps overly-permissive mother, the ending should be changed, and the journal entries with dialogue should be converted to exposition. They also felt they shouldn't know as much about the peripheral characters since it's all from Connor (and Reven's) point of view. I should be able to edit for most of these things. MB wanted more ambiguity, especially toward the end. She said she likes ambiguous endings. Nancy said, but what do young adults like? I don't mind some ambiguity. I don't want to lay everything out like a children's puzzle. On the other hand I don't want to be maddeningly vague about what happens to the characters. I don't think that's what MB meant me to do. It's a fine line. I think their general ideas about the ending are good. They also suggest I end it earlier after a certain scene. I'm going to look at it today but I think it might work.

Pages Galore

I got six and a half pages done today. I've found an interesting character in Meekie, Audra's sister. She's sort of a Goth (though she denies it): wears black and likes vampire novels. Audra's trying to convert her to a California blonde. She resists. So far.

William and I have started going to the gym again, after a considerable break. I swim and William runs and lifts weights. I hope I'll be able to continue in Vermont--they supposedly have a college gym nearby we can use. They've sent a few emails to welcome us already. They certainly give a welcoming feeling so far. Even the proprietor of the little store where they sell art supplies has sent an email.

We went to see "Tropic Thunder" at the Alamo. It was a funny but make-you-wince kind of movie. Gross in places and very politically incorrect. I imagine it wouldn't be funny to everyone. Sometimes you laugh in spite of yourself. At least William and I could agree on going to it. We don't always have the same taste in movies. In every other particular we agree. Mostly. :)