AIL Day 81: wellspring

Sorry for the delay, my friends.  Christmas has begun, which means I've begun to while away my hours in the kitchen with steamed puddings and cookies... among other sundry projects.

Our adventure in logophilia for 1 December is/was...

wellspring

A wellspring is a source of continual supply.  It's another of those awesome image-words immediately pointing us towards a spring of fresh water and well that taps into that water.  It lasts virtually forever (or at least a long time) and provides a means of quenching our thirst.  This is a good feeling.

AIL Day 80: jiggery-pokery

Today's adventure in logophilia is

jiggery-pokery

This is British term for dishonest or suspicious activity; or your basic nonsense, hocus-pocus, higgeldy-piggeldy.  It's puckish sound gives away its meaning... Puck sitting in a tree throwing something at you.

AIL Day 79: incunabulum

The adventure in logophilia for today, this penultimate day of November, is...

incunabulum

Try saying that three times fast.  This special word is a noun referring to 1.) a book printed before 1501, which was at the very dawn of the printing press, and 2.) a work of art or of industry of an early period.  This gem is from the Latin incunabula, meaning "swaddling clothes."

AIL Day 78: dither

Today's adventure in logophilia is

dither

A dither is a highly nervous, excited or agitated state.

AIL Day 77: verglas

Today's adventure in logophilia is

verglas

Verglas is a thin coating of ice or frozen rain on an exposed surface, from the French verre (glass) and glas/glace (ice).  Did you find any of this mysterious stuff on your car this frigid morning?  I know I did! 

Wending to Winter

We had flurries for the first time this season!  Granted, the snow managed to stick to only a few surfaces before melting away, but winter definitely gave us a taste of its power today.  I enjoyed the blustery winds (even though my ears were seriously too cold) and the crisp smell in the air.  I don't enjoy it because of the inevitable Christmas tones that are blaring from every radio in every store right now - Advent does not begin until Sunday, after all.  In fact, I find myself looking forward to winter with a wild enthusiasm: the mercy of a warm, cozy place to return to after a walk in the cold; projects to keep me busy; queries to send.  For some reason, I'm finding creative energy in the cold and musing on unexpected things.  And that, my friends, is a good sign.  I'm not saying that winter will be perfect this year (when is it ever?) but it is more than bearable.  Here are just a few reasons:

Snowflakes on autumn-purple leaves.

Snowflakes on autumn-crimson leaves.

Berries and limestone.

Cherries in macro.

Another snow-kissed plant.

AIL Day 76: boffin

Today's adventure in logophilia is

boffin

Boffin (noun) is a British term for a scientific expert, especially one involved in (but not limited to) technological research.  In other words, an enthusiastic nerd.  We're all boffins about something, believe me. Life is better that way.

AIL Day 75: factotum

Today's adventure in logophilia

factotum

A factotum (noun) is a person employed to do all kinds of work or business - a jack of all trades in an office setting.

AIL Day 74: surfeit

Saturday's adventure in logophilia is

surfeit

A surfeit (noun) is an excessive amount, a glut, more than enough.  This term definitely applies to the 22 pound turkey my mother cooked for Thanksgiving... for five people.  Of course, when your goal is not simply Thanksgiving dinner but leftovers turned into casseroles and soups, the surfeit doesn't go to waste, does it?  I have enough for a third meal tomorrow.

AIL Day 73: lashings

Today's adventure in logophilia is

lashings

Lashings (n) are copious amounts of something, especially food and drink.  No doubt it will take us days to eat through through our lashings of Thanksgiving leftovers. 

AIL Day 72: nubbin

The 72nd adventure in logophilia is

nubbin

Nubbin is a noun: a small lump or residual part of something.

AIL Day 71: echolalia

My apologies to those of you who read Daedalus on Google Reader.  The font sizes don't always cooperate with me.

Today's adventure in logophilia is

echolalia

That's a thing?  Yes, indeed!  Echolalia is the repetition (often pathological) of what is said by other people.  Twitter is a form of societal echolalia, methinks, especially when it comes to the practice of "re-tweeting."  For some reason I have a mental picture of Alpine yodelers when I hear this word.

AIL Day 70: carapace

Today's adventure in logophilia is...

carapace

A carapace is a protective case or shell on the back of some animals (as turtles or crabs.) 

I've entered the stage where I realize the trial of trying to get one's novel published - making that transition from it being a private story to a public read - is a matter of building up one's carapace, putting on a suit of armor, becoming more pachyderm (choose whichever metaphors best suits you) in how we present ourselves to the world.  And I don't use carapace or pachyderm to mean "calloused" or "insensitive" as definitions of the latter would put it... I mean it in the "thick skin" sense.  We'll always be sensitive to criticism and rejection, especially when it comes to our brain-children, but we learn  how to withstand it, use it and move on from it. 

The rejections have begun for me.  Granted we're only on the second agency on my list, and there is a long winter ahead of me.  I was sad about it last night, and then came to the multi-faceted realization that 1.) I have a greater respect for the literary agents who sift through piles upon piles of query letters every week - how is it their fault if my novel doesn't stand out to them in the brief flash of a query?  And how is it mine?  It is a simple matter of the interests of two human beings not aligning exactly, not matching.  It's a very human, subjective business.  Of course, it is going to take a while to find a person (because agencies are organization made of people who are called agents) who wants to run with it.  One rejection isn't the End of All Things, just the beginning of the road. 

2.) All this worrying about whether or not my novel needs another rewrite is a bit silly.  Suppose I do need to put it through another wash?  Will it take so very long?  Is it beyond my power?  No.  In fact, it is quite doable.  It's just another step.  The state of my novel can't be the reason for a rejection if an agent hasn't read beyond the query. 

3.) A professor-friend of mine shared her mantra with me, "Living well is the best revenge."  I've heard this everywhere this week: "make the agent that rejected you regret having turned you down."  I wouldn't personally go so far, but the point is there: don't let this stop you; let this fuel your creative fire; take criticism, listen to it, apply it where it makes sense, ignore it where it does not.  There.  If this novel doesn't make it to publication, something will eventually.  In the meantime, my job is to write.

4.) This feels so much better than applying to an MFA program.  I feel sad for a while, but then I can move onto the next agent.  I don't have to stare ahead at a wasted year.  I don't have to regret the months I wasted on useless essays and personal statements, trying to sell myself to a university.  I can continue on as I've been doing: endeavoring to write well, and see where it takes me.  There is no greater relief.

AIL Day 69: puckish

Today's adventure in logophilia is

puckish

Puckish (adjective) means impish or whimsical; playful - especially in a mischevious way.  Taken, of course, from the mythological fairy Robin Goodfellow, an Old English/Celtic "puca."  You may remember him from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Depictions of him have him resembling a faun (Mr. Tumnus) or a satyr with a goat's hooves and long, pointed ears (eyebrows to match).  I love this word, because I envision puck sitting in a tree with a wink and a grin to rival Peter Pan's.

AIL Day 68: sundry

Today's adventure in logophilia is

sundry

Yes, sundry on Sunday.  We must take as many opportunities to pun as humanly possible!  Anyway, sundry is an attributive adjective meaning, simply: of various kinds or several.  Sundries are items not important enough to be listed out separately; Oxford Dictionaries uses the example of things to be found in the check out line at the drug store.  This is both archaic and trendy, methinks, but will never quite die out.  I hope it doesn't; it's rather cool... in a nerdy sort of way. 

AIL Day 67: tantamount

Today's adventure in logophilia is...

tantamount

Tantamount (an adjective) means "equivalent in value, significance or effect." In other words, "equal to."

AIL Day 66: renascent

Today's adventure in logophilia is...

renascent

Renascent is an adjective that means reborn, or coming into being again.

The Writer's Black Hole

This has been an odd couple of weeks on the writing-sphere of my life.  I wonder sometimes if I have multiple personalities, a short attention span, or just a cranky "artist-child", as Julia Cameron would say.  The fact is, despite my daily visits to the blog and to Twitter, I have been in a dry spell since I finished my novel in September.

I remember looking forward to this period, journalling about the "free-time" I'd have to work on the blog, to pursue smaller projects, to experiment with other crafty things.  This was supposed to be a break, a wonderful time to regroup and recover and rebuild my creative energy.  And yet... having been deep inside this novel, in the minds and hearts of my characters, for the last year and a half, I found the post-novel experience to be frighteningly empty.  Perhaps, even lonely.  It's that moment when you realize, suddenly whilst swimming in the ocean, that you can no longer touch the bottom, and you begin to panic and sink. 



Abandoned Psychiatric Hospital.

 I didn't understand why I felt so bereft, empty, melancholic, etc, etc.  I came up with a variety of self-diagnoses (like a psychological version of House): I need a big project to fill the void; I need to work on something new: those stories that have been sitting in limbo forever; I need to stop whining, stop beating myself up and read, read, read.  These diagnoses were met with many a vacillation and excuse from my unappeased and unsatisfied "artist-child."

1.) The next "big" project would be the sequel to the novel I'd just finished - the novel which is in back in limbo, waiting for an agent.  At first, I thought - of course!  The characters are still fresh in my mind.  I want to return to them so badly... And then I keep worrying about the state of the first novel - whether anyone would really want to represent it, or if it needs another wash-through altogether.  Conclusion was that working on novel #2 would only make me worry about novel #1. 

2.) Working on the limbo stories is absolutely fine.  I have two of them: a scene where a historical character jumps from the tower in which was being held captive, and a sort-of fantastical bent on Melville's "Bartleby the Scrivener."  Awesome ideas.  Really!  But I couldn't (and still can't) figure out why my attention span and enthusiasm about these projects wavered from day to day.  Fear?  Yes, maybe, but isn't that obvious?  But fear doesn't always keep me running in the opposite direction.  It was torture to sit and stare at the partial drafts, having ideas in my head but being unable to bring them any further.  Finish them, finish them, part of me said.  But I was/is too tense to do so... as if suddenly an enormous amount of pressure was on my shoulders, trying to convince me that the only way I'd be taken seriously as a writer would be to fill up my portfolio with a variety of things... and didn't these make the most sense? 

3.) Not writing on any story was the other option, a complete surrender.  It's comparable to the glee of a child let loose at the end of the school year.  Yayyy!  I wanted to give myself a break!  Here's a break!  I'm going to watch as many episodes of The X-Files, Farscape and Star Trek: The Next Generation (yes, I'm a nerd, but you knew that) as I possibly can while I wait for Downton Abbey and Sherlock to air!  I'm going to devour more books!  I'm going to make all of my Christmas gifts by hand this year!  I'm going to become proficient in Latin!

And then the euphoria faded once again.  I was still empty.  Still hungry, perhaps that's the better term.  The story that was still vivid in my mind was... the sequel to the in-agent-limbo novel, even though I'd authoritative told my "artist-child" no.  "No.  It will only make you nitpick and stress out about what you have to fix for novel #1.  You're too anxious as it is, trying to come up with the plotline for novel #2.  Go play with Fantastical Bartleby.  Or, do your Latin.  You like Latin, remember?"  And my artist-child instead took none of those options and chose to sit in the corner, pouting.

As much as I like Julia Cameron and the "artist's way", I don't want to attribute this to being "blocked" and try in vain to "unblock" myself.  Blocked feels like such a negative, unproductive term.  I don't respond well to diagnoses like that - as I do struggle with anxiety on a daily basis.  Blaming myself for not writing isn't a cure.  And making myself write what I don't want to write is hardly a solution, either.  And... journalling and blogging have been a part of my daily routine since before the novel was finished.  Is that blocked?  No. 

So... I've come to several conclusions from this massive wallow in the writing black hole. 

1.) Anxiety about my first novel and whether or not it's "good enough" for an agent to want to represent will always be there.  I'm not the only writer to struggle with this, I know.  And how could we not be anxious?  This is our brain-child!  We want the best for him/her! 

2.) I am not blocked.  Period.  I'm between projects and enjoying a rest.  I am blogging and tweeting and using my brain.  That's good, right?

3.) I don't have to work on Fantastical Bartleby if I don't want to.  He can wait until a better time.  There will be a better time for him.  It's just not now.

4.) Work on novel #2 if I want to.  The characters are still vivid and beautiful in my head.  They're close to my heart.  I love them.  The most foolish thing would be to push them away.  And even if novel #1 needs another wash-through, that doesn't necessarily nullify my work on #2.  (If anything such revisions would be on language, not on plot or story.) 

5.) After so long without the "need" for watching tons of television, I am gorging myself.  I need to go on a Netflix diet but not completely deprive myself.

Already my unruly "artist-child" is feeling better.  I might still vacillate a bit about what to do next, but I'm not going to flagellate myself whatever I decide.  At this point "artist-child" wants novel #2, and we'll see where it takes us... but anything is good if it gets me out of the black hole and back into a better mind set, to fill the void left by that novel. 

***

On another note, I'm glad I decided not to participate in NaNoWriMo this year.  It would have had me stressed out on day one!

AIL Day 65: dreamwork (j)

Today's word is

dreamwork

Yes, it is a word, not merely the name of a successful studio of animated films.  Dreamwork is the process by which the unconscious mind alters the manifest content of dreams in order to conceal their real meaning from the dreamer.  Ah, yes.  I do this all the time, and not just in my sleep.  This might be why I space out and forget where I am in the universe half the time.  Art and writing are partially written by the unconscious mind.  Fact.  In fact, the unconscious is in charge... I'm going to stop myself before this metaphor completely takes me hostage. 

AIL Day 64: apogee (j)

Today's word is

apogee

Apogee (noun) is the point of the moon's orbit which is farthest from the earth, or (a rarer occurrence) the point of the Earth's orbit that is farthest from the sun.  This is the direct opposite of perigee, which is the orbital point nearest to the Earth or the sun. 

Telegraph on Handwriting (j)

On my daily perusal of the Telegraph, I discovered a little gem on the returning art of letter writing and improving your penmanship.  Jake Wallis Simons conveys a few tips to those of us who'd like our letters to look better and be more legible.  Below, I've paraphrased them:

* Obtain a comfortable pen.  (You'd think this is a no-brainer, but I had an epiphany reading this article. This is why my fingers hurt whenever I try to write stories by hand!)

* Sit up straight and pinch the pen between your first finger and thumb.  (Er... I've always utilized the side of my middle finger.  Is that to blame as well?)

* Try books on improving your handwriting.

* Write larger than normal at first. 

* Doodle letters to practice.

Oxford Dictionary's Word of the Year (j)

According to the Huffington Post, the word omnishambles is Oxford Dictionary's word of the year.

AIL Day 63: milquetoast (j)

Today's word is...

milquetoast

A milquetoast is one who has a meek, timid nature.  Yes, it is pronounced "milk-toast." Oxford Dictionaries indicates that it is the name of a 1930s cartoon character.  Online Etymology indicates that it might be a form of milksop, a 14th century term for "an effeminite spiritless man," and also used as a reference to the infant Christ... literally a piece of bread soaking in milk, mild baby food. 

This was not as nice as I would have thought.  I'm pretty sure I saw this in either Wolf Hall or Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel's historical fiction novels about Thomas Cromwell... which means it is slightly anachronistic (unless Ms. Mantel used the word "milksop" instead).  Nonetheless the term was used by Anne Boleyn's ladies in waiting to describe/deride the quiet Jane Seymour. 

AIL Day 62: prolix (j)

Today's word is...

prolix

Prolix, an adjective, means verbose, wordy, diffuse and redundantly executed language.  

I chose it today because it looks interesting.  Honestly, it has an x in it... so that automatically means it's on Jillian's list.  And... we're all guilty of prolixity from time to time... but I believe it is our license as writers to be as prolix as possible in our first drafts to see where the surfeit of words is actually aiming us.

Oxford Dictionaries indicates that it is late Middle English (which of course means it has roots in Old French) and has a connection to the Latin word proxilus meaning "poured forth and extended," a combination of the words "pro-" (outward) and "liquere" (to be liquid).  Words as liquid, spilling out across table, into a conversation, making a mess even if the color of that liquid happens to be pretty.  The wasted words must be sponged up.  The difference between actual liquid and words is that the words are reusable and will definitely return. 

AIL Day 61: quiddity (j)

I'm late with today's dose of logophilia, but Sundays tend to be slow as a general rule.  Anyway, today's word is...

quiddity

A quiddity is whatever makes something the type that it is: essence; a trifling point or quibble; a touch of eccentricity.  If you fear you are in possession of odd quiddities as a writer - certain words, certain phrases, certain preferences for unlikely characters - embrace them, use them and follow them onto something new.  A quiddity of mine, you ask?  I use the archaic word methinks a lot, find excuses to use 'twas and wont, and put Latin into one or two of my characters' mouths although - nota bene (note carefully) - used sparingly.

What are your favorite quiddities as a writer? 

AIL Day 60: esprit de l'escalier (j)

Today's word of whimsy is...

esprit de l'escalier 

Huh, you say?  What's with all the French words?  English is awesome because it is always changing, absorbing words, phrases and nuances from other languages.  Today's word is no exception.  An esprit de l'escalier is a witty remark thought of too late, on the way home.  In other words, it is the clever comment you wish you had delivered and therefore impressed your friends (or enemies).  In French it means "staircase wit."  I'm sure we've all experienced this before.  As writers, I find we can actually use our late witticisms later on... keeping a stockpile until opportunity strikes in our pages. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 59: hackneyed (j)

Today's word is...

hackneyed

The adjective hackneyed simply means "worn out by overuse."  According to Oxford Dictionaries, "hackney" was originally in use to indicate a horse hired for a carriage or coach - in other words, an ordinary harnessed horse.  As opposed, I assume, to the "high horses" (hee hee) used in the military.  Presumably also indicating an area of London called Hackney where horses were put to pasture.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 58: wend (j)

Today's word is...

To wend (verb) is to direct one's course in a particular way; to travel, to proceed, to continue.

Launching the Novel (j)

Here goes... I emailed my novel to the first agent on my list today, so wish me luck that this process is off to a kind start.  We are in for a winter of waiting and writing.  From what I've gathered, it will more than likely take a long, long time to find an agent 1.) willing to look at the manuscript, 2.) willing to represent it, 3.) able to publish it.  This is an exercise in patience, not futility. 

I'll let you know how I'm feeling about it later on! Keep writing, I've heard.  Keep writing.  This should be a no-brainer in any situation, but it has become my mantra.  I'm clinging to it like a lifeline, all limbs, fingers and toes.  Thanks for clinging with me.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 57: oeuvre (j)

Today's word is...

oeuvre

Pronounced 'uh-vruh, oeuvre (noun) is from the French literally meaning "work".  In literature we use it to mean a substantial body of work - the lifework of a writer or a composer.  A fancy word for portfolio or perhaps even repertoire. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 56: silly season (j)

I couldn't resist.  Today's word is...

silly season

A silly season is a period of time (particularly late summer) when the mass media often focus on trivial or silly matters for lack of major news, or, more generally, a period marked by frivolous, outlandish or illogical activity or behavior.  Cough, cough, politics, cough.

Today is election day, which means we've been in a silly season for countless weeks... counting down to the poles, pitting Candidate A against Candidate B (and vice versa), mud slung here, mud smeared there.  I imagine bread and circuses, a junior high cafeteria food fight, or revels to rival (hee hee) Carnivale.  It has been exhausting, and I am quite eager for today's "festivities" to be over at last.

***

I hope you don't take this post as indifference to election day.  No, actually, it's very important.  This is free speech at work!  Please vote.  Take it seriously.  The silly season is the meaningless part of the election - the day to day predictions and the analyzing of rhetorical minutiae.  Today is the day that matters, when the candidates quiet down and we have our say.  Good luck!

Adventures in Logophilia Day 55: Guy Fawkes Day (j)

Today's phrase is...

Guy Fawkes Day

... or Bonfire Night

Yes, another Britishism.  If you've seen V for Vendetta, you'll have heard "remember, remember the fifth of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot..."  In 1605, Guy Fawkes was one of a group of anarchists arrested for a plot to assassinate James I of England for not promoting greater tolerance for Catholic practices in England.  He was caught guarding 36 barrels of gunpowder under the House of Lords.  James I had only been king of England for less than two years.  The plotters were arrested and later executed (hanged, drawn and quartered) for treason.  Effigies of Fawkes were burnt around this time, remembering the event-that-wasn't - a chilling anti-Catholic practice.  These days, effigies of celebrities and detested politicos are burnt instead. 

This is a very elementary explanation of the Gunpowder Plot.  (I've had a lot of interruptions this morning.) When I went to England and learned about the bonfires, I thought it was a fun post-Halloween autumn celebration.  Then, I learned about its cruel history in post-Reformation England and changed my mind. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 54: vim (j)

The word for 4 November is...

vim

Vim (a noun) simply means energy and enthusiasm.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 53: twee (j)

The word for 3 November was/is...

twee

Twee is a British expression, an adjective, meaning affectedly or excessively dainty, delicate, quaint or cute.

On the Mend (j)

You may have noticed my absence from the blog these last several days.  I was out with stomach bug and nausea, so... you understand now how concentrating on words and writing can be a little difficult.  Sometimes, as a friend just pointed out to me, the body demands rest.  It doesn't ask permission.  It doesn't need a reason.  

I'm looking at this as another good reason for deciding not to participate in National Novel Writing Month.  If I had set my heart on the project, only to find myself laid up in bed with saltines and Netflix and unable to do much else, I would have been set back before I even started.  Let's face it.  Writing 1,667 words in a day (to acheive the ultimate goal of 50,000 at the end of the month) is no small feat.  Besides, what about Thanksgiving and Christmas?  Sure, they're not here yet, but I'm not waiting till December to start on my Christmas presents.  And... I'm getting ready to start sending my novel and sundry query materials to agents.  I have a back log of old papers that need to be scanned and shredded (no, never really finished that old project).  I have a full plate whether I want to admit it or not.

Under other circumstances perhaps NaNoWriMo would have worked for me.  I've heard it's a great way to churn out that awful first draft of a novel, and thousands are participating.  People are writing!  That's phenomenal!  So, if you happen to be in the midst of your NaNo work, good luck to you.  We are cheering you on!  Happy writing!

***

The words will return shortly. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 52: lambent (j)

Today's word is...

lambent

Something that is lambent (adjective) is characterized as flickering or softly radiant, marked by brilliance or lightness, effulgence, incandescence, or luminosity. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 51: sylph (j)

Day 51:

sylph

A sylph (noun) is an imaginary beeing inhabiting the air, or a slender graceful woman.  More specifically, it hails from Paracelus, German-Swiss scientist and Renaissance man in the mid-1500s, who theorized about elemental beings inhabiting the air.  According to Ye Olde Wiky-paedia, he was the "father of toxicology."

Disney Buys Star Wars (j)

In case you haven't heard, the Twitter-sphere and the internet in general is abuzz with the jaw-dropping news that George Lucas has decided to retire, and has handed over the reins of his multi-million dollar baby Star Wars to - yes, you heard correctly - Disney.  The opinions vary, and I myself am nothing but skeptical about this change... and the supposed plans to create "episodes" 7, 8 and 9 in the next decade or so.  I'll reserve actual judgment when the details come out.  Otherwise, I hope Mr. Lucas enjoys his retirement. 

Leia Organa contemplates change in The Empire Strikes Back.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 50: el chupacabra (j)

Happy Halloween!  Today's spooky word is...

El chupacabra (noun) is an animal said to exist in parts of Latin America - particularly Puero Rico - where it supposedly attacks animals, especially goats and drains them of blood.  The word literally means "goat sucker" in Spanish. This was the "monster of the week" in the 4th season of The X-Files entitled "El Mundo Gira," and became a dry joke between Mulder and Scully in later episodes.   According to Ye Olde Wiky-paedia, this legend/mystery emerged in 1995 in PR, killing goats and sheep, and has been "seen" in random locations in the US ever since: about the size of a bear with spines along its back.  Some "witnesses" describe it similiarly to an alien in the movie Species.  It's existence (like Bigfoot and his contemporaries) has never been confirmed.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 49: fell (j)

Today's Halloweenish word is...

Fell (an adjective) is a semi-archaic word that means fierce, cruel, terrible, sinister and malevolent.  It can also mean sharp or pungent (I'm assuming on terms of odors.)  I first heard this word when I saw The Fellowship of the Ring, only I didn't know it at the time.  The Fellowship attempts to climb the mountains over Moria, and Saruman is thwarting their progress by means of sorcery and chants.  Legolas percieves that something is amiss and says "There is a fell voice on the air."  Only at the time, I thought he said "There is a foul voice on the air," which seems just as appropriate.  I don't think I realized the different until I actually read the book. 

A fell is also a noun meaning a high barren field or moor, such as this one.  This picture was taken in North Yorkshire on Skipton Moor.

Wisdom from Yesteryear (j & m)

I am perusing the Daedalus posts of yesteryear, and have come across an old post Michelle wrote almost four years ago on the dangers of not writing and striving to appease the inner artist child.  Otherwise, you might turn into the Hulk. Para-paraphrase, of course.  She put it far more articulately. I find my rediscovery of this to be quite apt as I've not had proper write time in a while - thanks the Sturm un Drang of this month and various synopsis things.  (Excuses excuses.)   Please read. 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 48: bete noire (j)

Today's word is...

A bete noire (noun, meaning "black beast" in French) is a person or thing strongly disliked or feared.  It could be the candidate you don't want for President.  It could be the cat lurking around the corner, ready to pounce (in our house, we call this special kind of bete noire the "furtive beast").  It could be a thing of deeper nightmares. It is anything and everything that could possibly be out to get you, hold you down, giggling as you struggle.  Perhaps in that cornfield with the eyeshine.


 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 47: necropolis (j)

The word for day 47 is...

A necropolis (noun) is a fancy (possibily euphemistic) word for a cemetery, particularly a large cemetery in an ancient city.  I rather tend to compare the structure of this word to "metropolis" and "cosmopolis"... and "city of the dead" comes to mind.  Creepy because, if you think about it, that is exactly what a cemetery is: a community of dead people.  It makes me want to read The Graveyard Book again. Never has there been a more charming necropolis than in Neil Gaiman's book.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 46: moonset (j)

The word for day 46 is...

Moonset (noun) is the setting of the moon below the horizon.  Indicating that the ghosts, goblins and vampires have gone to bed. 

This word has particular poetry to it - a realization that it's not just the sun that rises and sets.  In the Doctor Who episode "Smith and Jones", the Doctor and Martha team up when the hospital they're in is transported inexplicably to the moon.  At one point the Doctor marvels; they are standing in the "earth light."  How beautiful a simple change of perspective can be.

Adventures in Logophilia Day 45: eyeshine (j)

Today's word is...

Eyeshine (noun) is the reflection of light from the inner surface of the eye through the pupil, giving the eye a luminous appearance, especially in cats.  This is an affect of something called the tapetum lucidum (meaning "bright tapestry" in the Latin), which is a layer of tissue found directly behind or sometimes within the retina.  Humans do not have eyeshine.  But wouldn't it be super creepy if they did?  So here's your warning - if when out in this most haunted of seasons trick-or-treating or wandering a cornfield and you happen to spot a human with glowing eyes... it's probably not human.  Run! 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 44: golem (j)

Today's sort of creepy word is...

A golem is an element of Jewish folklore in which a clay figure is brought to life by magic.  According to Ye Olde Wiky-paedia, the first reference for a golem comes from Psalm 139:16 "my unshaped form."  Golems have been formed supposedly for defense or menial tasks, a creature made of mud with holy words etched into its forehead or around its neck, which once taken away will reduce the creature to dust.  I came across this term in two places: Sherlock and The X-Files.  In "Kaddish" an episode in the fourth season of The X-Files, Mulder and Scully investigate mysterious happenings in a Hasidic community, murders that can only be attributed to the golem-esque reincarnation of a dead man.    In the first series of Sherlock, "The Great Game" a serial killer - a giant of a man with laptodactylic features and superhuman strength - referred to as a "golem" is a component of Moriarty's web of crime.  Great name for a villain, huh?

Adventures in Logophilia Day 43: skullduggery (j)

Today's word is...

skullduggery

At first glance, I would have said that skullduggery probably had something to do with "digging up skulls" but not according to the Lexicon.  Skullduggery (noun) is a word for crafty deception or trickery.  Body-switching, perhaps? 

Adventures in Logophilia Day 42: gloaming (j)

Today's word is...

gloaming

Gloaming (a noun) is another word for twilight or dusk.  I first happened upon it in Jane Eyre and many more contemporary places since.

Retellings: Sherlock vs Elementary (jillian)

'Tis the season of retellings... particularly on terms of television.  I've been trying to wrap my head around the new CBS series Elementary, which sees Jonny Lee Miller as Sherlock Holmes in contemporary New York with Lucy Liu as his sidekick Joan Watson.  The Telegraph has a nice article on it, today. I've not seen it because television in general tends to eat time, but I have to admit I am curious now to see if it works or if it flops. 

As a devotee of BBC's Sherlock, I came to this as a bit of a biased snob.  "What?  Making Watson a woman?  Taking Sherlock out of London?"  Etcetera, etcetera.  But, of course, people probably said the same when Sherlock came out in 2010: "How can Benedict Cumberbatch possibly be better than Jeremy Brett?  The idea!"  But... while these misgivings are valid in their own way, I've come to realize or remember with humility that these are all retellings, not the original story. 

Like my argument about viewing a book and its subequent film or films as different animals (i.e. Pride and Prejudice), I think we need to look at the different versions of the stories as equally legitimate renderings.  There cannot be one "true" film or television verson of a story.  Each will be different.  Elementary chooses to emphasize Sherlock as a brilliant drug addict with tattoos, and Watson as a woman and the doctor assigned to keep him sober.  In Sherlock, he labels himself a "high functioning sociopath" and texts compulsively, as Watson is the roommate who keeps him in line and keeps him human.  One show is American, the other is British.  One is slated as a regular series, the other is a miniseries.  The comparisons continue, but neither is wrong.  Both are a celebration of the original seed of the Sherlock Holmes stories that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote in the late 19th century.  To nitpick about Watson's gender or Sherlock's hair color is to totally miss the point.  The details are just colors, shadows and angles.  The writers, actors and directors of both shows have distinctly different ideas about what makes those stories and characters so compelling.  That's why I sit humbly on my hands when i think about my ire for Ridley Scott's Robin Hood.  No one owns Robin Hood.  No one owns Sherlock Holmes.  They belong to everyone.

Retellings are in our blood, those left-over Anglo-Saxon narrative impulses.  Our version of Beowulf isn't the original, but it celebrates the original seed of the story.  Same with King Arthur and Robin Hood, and Homer's tales.  In this era, the stories have evolved from oral anonymities to published works.  I ask again, how many times has Pride and Prejudice or Great Expectations made it to a miniseries or theatrical form?  Many times celebrated.  If anything, film versions always bring the most intrigued back to the source, back to reading how the "real" Sherlock Holmes solved mysteries, made meticulous observations and shot cocaine when he was bored.  (No, I don't condone him.  We're not supposed to.)  So how can multiple versions be a bad thing?  And can't they co-exist? 

Definitely.

So... pick your poison!

Elementary starring Jonny Lee Miller and Lucy Liu.  CBS.

 Or...

Sherlock starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.  BBC.



Synopsis Metaphor (jillian)

A metaphor for you...

This is how I've come to think of writing synopses and queries: writing a synopsis is like orbiting the earth whereas writing a novel is being on the ground, engaging in the world. (Pretend that my pattern of orbit on the left actually makes sense.) When you orbit a planet, you take in a very general view, but no less breathtaking angle, of the Earth.  When you're actually writing a novel, you are inside and very intimately involved with the details.  So actually, writing a synopsis or the actual the novel comes down to a matter of angles and viewpoints, a telescope or a microscope.  Suddenly everything about this process becomes less daunting if I look at this way.  I'm orbiting.  It may not be fun, but it's a good skill to have, a good exercise to use in the aftermath of a year and a half of work.  What does my novel look like from a distance?