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Today

So far:

Once locked out of my own home
One not-so-flat tire
One very ill dog
One very large glass of spilled milk
One forgotten lunch
One mostly-flat tire
One broken milk bottle
One not-so-flat tire
And one half of a cat sticking out of an open third story window.

Days like today, I wish I could call my mom, tell her this story, and have her explain to me that the reason for all of this is because Pluto is opposing my sun, (or something) and not to worry because it’ll all pass… in a week.

So, it’s been approximately a year and a half since I’ve blogged (at least in this particular blog, my own little private slice of the internets), and interestingly, when I came back to it, I found that my last half-finished saved blog post was one in which I mused about my decision to protect my twitter feed. That decision ended up making the twitter-sphere a lot less interesting for me, and over the last year and a half, I’ve been spending a lot less time there. But I’m taking a class this semester (burying the lead, hey folks, I’m in graduate school now, fulfilling my long-time goal of getting a master’s degree in Museum Education!) that requires students to be active on Twitter.

So I decided this class could be a kick in the butt to get me back into tweeting regularly, and along with it, decided to reopen my feed so I could be a part of the larger conversation again. One of the things I missed the most when my feed was protected was that I couldn’t just tweet someone at random, and know that they would see it. I felt very shut out from it all.

(An aside. This is going to be one of the most parentheses-heavy posts ever, I can just tell. I’m not saying that deciding to protect your twitter feed is always a bad thing. In fact, it’s not, and there are many reasons to choose to do so. I’m just saying that protecting my twitter feed prevented me from using Twitter in a way that I found valuable. One real life example from before I protected my tweets: I was complaining about my internet service being down, and a customer service rep contacted me via twitter to help solve my problem. A real life example of something I wasn’t able to do after protecting my feed: call out an author whose book I was really enjoying and give him the mad props he deserved.)

So, I’m diving back into Twitter. I’m using hootsuite to manage my lists (all private, as it’s just my way of organizing the groups of people I follow) and the various hashtags I’ve been following (my newest one is #iTunesU… I’m slightly in love with the new app!). And because it’s been a while, I found that I had some cleanup to do, and in the midst of doing that cleanup, I discovered that one person I used to follow, had blocked me!

I won’t lie. At first, that discovery upset me. I took it personally–what had I done, what had I said? But after thinking about it a bit, I decided that it probably had nothing to do with me at all, and really, was my world going to end if I didn’t know what this person (who I had only ever known slightly in real life), was thinking every moment of the day? The answer is no, probably not.

This post began as a lot of things. A musing on what it means to be private vs. public on twitter–that same post I began so long ago. A musing on how much social media relationships matter to us. An announcement that I was going to try blogging more (yet again. But I mean it this time. I think blogging can help keep me sane, and I need all the sanity I can get.)

Instead of really doing any of the above, I think I mostly ended up babbling. But you know, sometimes, it’s good to babble. So anyway, here I am. I’m in school, so I can’t promise to be anything like prolific, but I’m going to try for one post a week, at least. No guarantees on topic. The usual suspects (food, writing, critters, technology, knitting) are all sure to make an appearance, and I’m sure museums and education can be added to that list. If you want to follow me on twitter, I’m @wingcolor, and once again, open to everyone.

Reader’s responsibility

I take my responsibility as a reader pretty seriously. Now, I don’t mean that in the sense of analyzing every sentence that crosses my path for proper grammar and creative use of metaphor. I mean it in the sense of supporting the authors whose work I read.

And I mean “supporting” in the fiscal sense.

As someone who reads quickly and ravenously, and who sadly, does not have enough money to buy every book she wants to read, or even just the books she wants to own, (as a life-long book collector, this number is smaller, but not by much) I find this responsibility weighs heavily on me at times.

A large number of the books I consume, I acquire in ways that do not directly fiscally support the author. Before you start having visions of me sneaking into bookstores in the dead of night and carrying out sackfuls of books, you should know that the means by which I consume these books are legal and often, intended or even encouraged by the authors. I check books out from libraries. I participate in book swaps on sites such as Bookmooch.com, and purchase used copies of books that look interesting at yard sales and thrift shops. I listen to podcast novels via sites like Podiobooks.com.

Because I do all of the above, I take my responsibility as a purchaser very seriously when I walk into a bookstore to buy a brand new copy of a book. When trying to decide which of the dozens of books that I’d like to take home with me, actually will come home with me, I’ve developed a loose set of rules that help me make my decision.

  • First, I rarely buy a book by an author that I haven’t read before. I will admit, this is probably the rule that gets broken the most.
  • Second, I try to only buy books by authors that aren’t already huge bestsellers. I figure that if you’re a household name, my purchase of your book will not matter as much to you as it would to someone who’s just starting out. (I know that unfortunately, just because you’re widely known or a bestseller doesn’t guarantee success in your career. However, I know that the chances, however slim, are better for you than for most of the other authors who have their books on the shelves.)
  • Third, I try to buy books by authors that I like and want to support as soon as possible after their initial release. The sales numbers within the first week after release are the most important numbers.

These rules are not for everyone. I’m not trying to say that they should be. However, I feel that it’s my duty to walk into a bookstore, and put my money  to the best use I possibly can, supporting authors that I like and want to see more of. These rules make some decisions easier for me, because it really just comes down to two questions: will my purchase make a difference to this author, and if so, is the author someone I want to support?

Why am I mentioning all this now? Well, a couple of days ago, I was led to a blog post written by the inimitable J.C. Hutchins, in which he explains his reasons for deciding not to continue to put out his fiction for free over the internet.

(A digression. I found J.C. Hutchins through the SF podcasting community back when he was podcasting the first novel of his 7th Son trilogy. I’ve been known to curse his name a time or two, such as when he ended book 2 with a massive cliffhanger, but wow, what a great storyteller! I almost don’t know whether to love him, or just be massively jealous.)

His post is impossible to summarize, but a central point is that the two books that he had published, which includes Book 1 of the 7th Son trilogy, underperformed to the point that his publisher has decided not to publish Books 2 and 3.

And that brings me back to my sense of personal responsibility. Because just a week ago, I’d listened to a couple of interviews that Hutchins gave to Mike and Mike at the Dragon Page Cover to Cover podcast in which he talked about the 7th Son novels and everything he was doing to promote the print version. The interviews were several months old (I’m perpetually behind in my podcast listening), but as I listened, I thought to myself, “Wow, has time passed that fast? I didn’t realize the book was out already. I really need to make sure I pick up my copy.” A couple of days later, I went to my local bookstore, and actually searched for the book, hoping to find it. They didn’t have it. I was a little bit concerned, and definitely disappointed, but decided I would purchase it on Amazon when I got home.

Reading Hutchins’ blog post was like a blow to my gut. I felt that as a reader, I let him down. I loved the novels when he so generously shared them for free–I’d had every intention of purchasing the novel when it was available. On a rational level, I know that the one copy I’d have purchased would not have made the difference in St. Martin’s press deciding not to publish the subsequent 7th Son books. But every drop in a bucket does make a difference.

Writers and readers depend on each other. Readers depend on writers for the raw materials that they turn into words and sentences and characters and story that keep us entertained. Writers depend on readers to support them, to allow them the time and the opportunity to create and to share their creations.

You could call it a reader’s responsibility, but it’s entirely selfish, really. I want to be able to keep reading J.C. Hutchins’ writing. In order to do so, what do I have to offer in return? Believe me, next time he has a book coming out, I’m marking that sucker’s release date on my calendar in flashing neon. First week’s numbers, and all.

Not a Waste of Time

I don’t always get to, but even though I’ve rarely seen all or even most of the movies mentioned, I really enjoy watching the Oscars when I get the chance. (And yay, Katherine Bigelow! I know it was mentioned that she was the first woman to ever win Best Director, but did you know that she was only the fourth woman ever to even be nominated for Best Director. Fourth!) I like the speeches. I mean, sure, sometimes it ends up being nothing more a long laundry list of everyone the winner’s ever met, but the emotion always seems so heartfelt, y’know? And I love the long shots, or the winners from movies that don’t have 10 nominations. I love it when people tell stories. I’ll admit it, when Sandra Bullock said “Those moms and parents never get thanked. I, in particular, failed to thank one. So, if I can take this moment to thank Helga…” I teared up a bit.

But really, the speeches I truly love are the ones like this one, by Michael Giacchino for Best Score for the movie Up.

“When I was nine I asked my dad, “Can I have your movie camera? That old, wind-up 8mm camera that was in your drawer?” And he goes, “Sure, take it.” And I took it and I started making movies with it and I started being as creative as I could, and never once in my life did my parents ever say, “What you’re doing is a waste of time.” Never. And I grew up, I had teachers, I had colleagues, I had people that I worked with all through my life who always told me what you’re doing is not a waste of time. So it was normal to me that it was OK to do that. But  I know there are kids out there that don’t have that support system, so if you’re out there and you’re listening, listen to me: If you want to be creative, get out there and do it. It’s not a waste of time. Do it. OK?”

I know that the awards we’re most interested in are the big ones, the actors and actresses, the director, the best picture. But I love that the Academy Awards provide an opportunity to honor all these other people who do amazing creative work everyday, who we don’t see on a regular basis in every magazine, whose names we probably don’t recognize, but without whom, the entire experience wouldn’t be the same… And I love when they, in turn, use their opportunity, their rare and single moment onstage, to encourage others to go out and be creative themselves.

(P.S. I got the Michael Giacchino transcript from this great article, also about the power of speeches, and far more eloquent than my little tribute.)

Under a cloudy sky

It’s been over a year since I’ve written in this very on-again-off-again blog, but for some reason, I was thinking about it today. Maybe it was the sky, huge post-stormy clouds with a brilliant sun and bright blue shining out behind them. The clouds, coupled with the air that blew a warm, heavy breeze against bare skin reminded me of Florida, and all of a sudden, I was desperately, painfully homesick.

Florida was my home for not quite two years, but I loved the physical environment of it like I have never loved a land before or since. California’s blue skies, cool breezes, and 70 degree days still “feel” like home to me, and I loved the snow in Massachusetts, and the sudden arrival of spring after long months of winter. Virginia summers remind me of childhood, watching fireflies, and I moved to Maryland just as the cherry blossoms burst into bloom, but nowhere else I have lived has so constantly reminded me of the world that existed long before humans arrived, and will remain long after. Broward County was built up out of the Everglades, and from the canals and ponds that criss-crossed the county, to the plants that couldn’t be stopped by the spread of golf courses, it showed.

And the skies were lovely. Here, if it rains, it’s gray for days before and after. In Florida, the rain came up suddenly, heavily, and then ten minutes (or two miles, if you were driving) it was gone, replaced by blue skies heavy with clouds, gray, and edged with the gold of sunlight.

Today, it was as if a little bit of Florida had wandered north for a visit.

Cloudy sky

And I found myself wanting to share.

I’ve been thinking a lot since the holidays about trying to write more in 2010. I’ve now gotten into a cycle in which I win NaNoWriMo only on even numbered years–2004, 2006, 2008. (Not-)coincidentally, this seems to match up exactly with my big life cycles, which is to say that the years I have a lot of upheaval or excitement in my life, I don’t win NaNoWriMo. And since I got to college, NaNoWriMo is pretty much the one time a year I devote myself to writing.

But this year, I don’t want to just participate in NaNoWriMo. I want to write more. By that, I meant fiction. But I reorganized my bookshelf recently, and I have quite a large collection of books of writing by fiction authors that isn’t fiction: memoirs, letters, journals, autobiographies… so if I recognize that as a proper genre, at least for my bookshelf, why wouldn’t I recognize it as a proper genre for my own writing?

This has been a weird week for ome, and a really weird weekend, especially from inside my own mind. I miss my mother, terribly, more than I have in months. I wish she were here, so that I could reach out and talk to her, try to sort out what’s happening to me. In lieu of that, I’ve spent a lot of time sitting and watching Skittles asleep on my lap, and thinking.

I just got an e-mail (well, a couple of days ago, but I just opened it) from my college alumnae association. It linked to a slideshow of the college campus in the winter, and while snow always looks prettier in pictures than it is in real life, I miss snow, and its brightness. For that matter, I miss winter in L.A. too, where it’s only mildly cool, and the palm trees are decorated with white lights wrapped around their trunks. I wonder if I have a touch of seasonal affective disorder… the gray mornings and winter chill are starting to get to me, and I’m counting down the days to the solstice, because even though there’s still a lot of winter to go, at least after the winter solstice, the days will start getting longer again. (It’s tomorrow, thank the deities.)

7 Random Things

I was tagged by TheJinx at Brain Lag to share 7 random or weird things about myself. I’m not going to tag anyone else for this meme (I’m not sure I have seven regular readers!) but I thought it would be fun to share.

1. I currently have the remains of a temporary tattoo (of a lion head) on my neck. I succumbed to peer pressure yesterday. But it was strange enough having it there that I scrubbed most of it off in the shower this morning.

2. My last temporary tattoo, by contrast, was a Jolly Rogers flag on my upper arm, which lasted for two weeks. 

3. I’m wearing my favorite pair of jeans, which have a rip in the inner thigh. It’s sort of strange spot for a pair of jeans to rip. I wonder if it’s possible to patch it?

4. I always have cold toes and cold feet. Winter and Summer. Usually I don’t even notice it, until someone else remarks on it.

5. Speaking of toes and feet, I have long feet and long toes, and it turns out that I get my feet from my mother, and she got them from her father. We all have the same feet. 

6. I’m addicted to chapstick. Seriously, regular ole’ unflavored SPF 15 chapstick.

7. In cooking, my favorite fresh herb is cilantro, and I can’t stand parsley. I know it’s usually the other way around. I don’t mind parsley (as much) in things other people make, but every time I try to cook with it, I just think, “ugh, what is that?”

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