AIL Day 99: jabberwocky

Today's adventure in logophilia is

jabberwocky

This excellent word was invented by Lewis Carroll, author of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.  Outside of Alice's adventures jabberwocky refers to meaningless speech or writing, jibberish.  I rather think of jabberwocky as one's secret creative language and individual word-choice habits.  We speak in this language when we have a brilliant epiphany about something, try to explain it to the first person who will listen and realize that said thought hasn't translated properly into English. It comes out garbled and giddy, and our listener is confused, and looks about ready to say "Are you speaking in tongues?"  Such is the essence of art: ineffable.

AIL Day 98: retrousse

Today's adventure in logophilia is...

retrousse'

A retrousse' is the term for the way a person's nose is turned up at the tip, particularly in an attractive way. 

AIL Day 97: undertow

Today's adventure in logophilia is

undertow

Undertow is another term for a rip current, which is used in the incorrect belief that rip currents drag swimmers below the surface of the water.  This is also used abstractly to mean an implicit quality, emotions or influence lying underneath the surface aspects of something (i.e. a person's character) and leaving a certain impression.

AIL Day 95 & 96: Yule and Noel

The words I chose for this weekend are part of the rich vocabulary of the Advent season.  They've been with us for so long I know I haven't much concept of their meanings.  So I took this opportunity to do a little digging via Oxford Dictionaries (old habits die hard, I suppose).

Yule

Yule is the (archaic) Old English/Old Norse term for Christmas.  More specifically, it refers to a pagan festival that took place around the Winter Solstice and lasted twelve days after what is now Christmas.  When Christianity spread into Europe and the solstice celebrations became celebrations of the birth of Christ, the old name lingered.  So when you hear the phrase "yuletide treasure" in the old song "Deck the Halls", it isn't necessarily a pagan or a secular reference, but a general reference to Christmastime.

Noel

A noel is a Christmas carol, particularly the refrain.  So "gloria in excelsis deo" and "come let us adore him" might count as noels.   This is a French version of the Latin word natalis, meaning birth - a birth song.  This makes sense when you think about one of the lesser known Christmas songs "Noel, A New Noel."  I always thought "You mean there were noels before Christ was born?"  Apparently so!

Why Joan Didion Writes

Here's a link for you.  Joan Didion on brainpickings.org about why she writes, on the power of grammar and visceral detail. 

Coventry Carol, a mystery play (jillian)

We've entered into the time of carols.  I'm the sort of person who most definitely gravitates towards "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" and cringes from the likes of "Silver Bells."  (Although my aversion to the song might have more to do with an awful, cloying 1960s rendition of the tune of which I grew up hearing.)  I love Christmas carols for their beauty and their rich history, and in some cases their bizarreness.  Which brings me to "Coventry Carol."

Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.

O sisters too, how may we do
For to preserve this day,
This poor youngling for whom we sing
By, by, lully, lullay.

Herod, the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young to slay.

That woe is me, poor Child for Thee!
And ever mourn and sigh,
For thy parting neither say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

I first sang an arrangement of this carol with my high school women's choir ten years ago.  I'm sure I'm not the only one who first heard this beautiful, haunting song and wondered what on Earth it had to do with Christmas.  This is, of course, about the massacre of the innocents, which took place after Jesus' birth; King Herod, learning that a king was born to the Jews (a king that would challenge his own kingship), ordered all the male babies in Bethlehem destroyed.  Mary and Joseph fled with Jesus into the wilderness.

The song itself is the last surviving remnant of a 16th century mystery play from Coventry, England called The Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors.  (Ye Olde Wiky-paedia.) Mystery plays were a staple of the Middle Ages, tableau performances and songs depicting Bible stories or scenes from the lives of saints.  The shearman and the tailors were probably members of that particular trade guild, not monks or nuns... although there were such performances within monasteries.  "Mystery" in this context actually means "miracle." 

What intrigues me about this song is that it alone survived the test of time.  "Coventry Carol" is a mystery of a mystery.  What did the happier songs of the shearmen and tailors' pageant sound like?  Why did this song endure the test of time?  Was it simply the prettiest?  Or has it a mind of its own, haunting down through the ages to testify about the brutality of the age into which Christ was born?  And who had the powerful idea of making it a lullaby?  Did they have any idea, when they sat down by candlelight to plan out their guild's Christmas pageant in, say, 1530 that people would be singing it and wondering about it well into 2012 and beyond?  That my friends, is special!  Merry Christmas!

AIL Day 94: ephemera

Today's adventure in logophilia is

ephemera

Ephemera is a plural noun for things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short, fleeting time.  To which she says, philosophically, are not all things ephemeral or fleeting?  Does that not make life all the more beautiful?

AIL Day 93: congeries

Today's adventure in logophilia is

congeries

Congeries is a collective noun meaning "a disorderly collection or jumble."  This is taken from the Latin verb congerere "to heap up." 

This word best describes Christmas preparations - the intentions, the results, the mess in my room.  I cheer myself up by imagining that Santa's workshop is a terrible disaster (the mess!) and Christmas' best keep secret.  There's a reality television show for you: overworked elves who complain of constant foot pain due to long hours and the shoes they have to wear; piles of discarded toy parts; the floor a definite hazard with tinsel and glitter and glue everywhere; not to mention the reindeer leavings; interviews with the elves who maintain Santa's sleigh: "you wouldn't believe the mileage on this thing..."

AIL Day 92: gedankenexperiment

Today's strange, strange adventure in logophilia is

gedankexperiment.

That's a thing?  Yes, indeed it is!  A gedankexperiment (literally "thought experiment") is an experiment only able to carried out in thought.  This was a term invented by Albert Einstein as he conceptualized the theory of relativity... which is only a theory and essentially can't be proven or disproven.  

This has shown me another sciencey metaphor for writing.  Here goes.  Stop me if you've heard this one before.  Ahem.  When I'm beginning the first draft of a new project - no matter what it is - I tend to create the story in my head.  Because I am a visual person, I like seeing my characters in situations, solving new problems, jumping over hurdles, battling demons, falling in love, etc.  This is particularly true when I am at the YMCA on the elliptical or walking around downtown on my breaks from work.  The images flood me, and I'm swept away. 

But as a writer, the images are really only experiments, ideas thrown together in a sort of tantalizing display.  Each possible story thread follows me, tugging me and trying to convince me that it is the thread I should choose.  It is like the quote I posted recently from Umberto Eco: "All the stories I would like to write persecute me... it seems as if they are around me, like little devils, and while one tugs at my ear, another tweaks my nose, and each says to me 'Sir, write me, I am beautiful.'" Because I can't make up my mind, I'll choose several different ideas and fly with them... wondering which idea is THE idea that will grow into the novel.  Meanwhile, as the "book" becomes the winter's next great blockbuster-in-my-head, the novel itself is nothing but a blank sheet.  Or an unsaved MS Word document.

In other words, a novel or story isn't exactly the unprovable theory, only truly tangible in the mind, but it is tempting, for me at least, to let it remain unprovable by continuing these pre-writing experiments.  The only way I will truly know where the novel is going, what is happening the characters, what they want out of life, etc is to write the story, and pull them out of the clouds and onto the paper and form them in words.  Trial and error.  Letting the images achieve tangibility on the page. 

So, note to self: your story is not the theory of relativity, but the only way to prove it to yourself is to remove it from your head and put it on the page.  Remember that gedankexperiments do not need very much work at all, but they're hard to explain and read aloud to people.  Yes, it's scary to write that naked, awful draft of that tentative story, but it will be worth it! 

AIL Day 91: orrery

Today's adventure in logophilia is

orrery

An orrery is a mechanical model of the solar system, or of the sun, earth and moon, used to represent their relative positions and motions.  Sort of a solar-system mobile.

AIL Day 90: funambulism

On this here 90th day of logophiliac adventures we come to...

funambulism

 

Though it sounds like a serious medical condition (rhyming a bit with "embollism," which would make for some very strange lines of lines of verse...), funambulism is a fancy term for tightrope walking, or a show of special mental agility.  Do you feel like this at times, fellow writers?  Well, don't look down in the midst of your crafting - a bit of advice I need to take myself.  Keep looking forward, and go slowly, one step at a time. 

AIL Day 89: amaranth

Today's adventure in logophilia is

amaranth

An amaranth is a flower that never fades, used as a dye that produces a color similar to magenta but redder.  Something that is amaranthine is undying, particularly in color.  This is an amaranthine season, methinks.

AIL Day 88: zeitgeist

Our fine and fabulous word for day 88 is...

zeitgeist

Together the German terms "zeit" (time) and "geist" (spirit) mean the taste, outlook, cultural climate and/or spirit characteristic of a period or generation.  Twitter, Facebook, smartphones.

AIL Day 87: mettlesome

Day 87?  Really?  Today's adventure in logophilia is

mettlesome

Mettlesome is an adjective that means "full of vigor and stamina, spirited," and obviously "to have mettle".  I remember stumbling across this word and thinking of it's homonym "meddlesome", which implies mischief or sabotage.  Mettle on the other hand means courageousness, endurance, vigor of strength and temperament.  Imagine how glad I was to discover this was a virtue! 

This trying-to-find-an-agent-and-build-an-online-voice thing is quite the test of my mettle - or, more metaphorically speaking, testing the mettle and metal (iron?) that is in my personality and reinforces me when life seems to take me nowhere or backwards fast.  I spent the last two weeks combing through and revising my novel once again - not because I'm a masochist but to make sure this novel is the absolute best work I can offer.  I will be sending out another query (via snail-mail... or "hard mail" as they call it in my novel) next week, hoping of course, but also looking ahead to the next agent, the next set of materials I must prepare.  I'm learning to bounce back, to continue work on the sequel of this newly finished brain-child, to challenge myself in the physical art of making envelopes and other paper-goods for Christmas presents, to steam puddings and bake cookies, to build up that mettle and metal for the next day, the next week, the next month.  This winter won't be a dormant period, but it will be a waiting period, a testing period, and I must remind myself that there will be a Spring, even if the Winter is long and hard.  Thanks all of you for coming with me!

Neil Gaiman on Art

This is the reason I love Twitter.  How else would I find out about little jewels like this one? Neil Gaiman answers questions as part of a panel discussion on 1 December at the CT Youth Forum's Student-Roundtable Discussion.  A student asks how she should take the comment "there are enough artists in the world," and Mr. Gaiman gives the best advice for an artist to hear.  These words of encouragement made my day.

AIL Day 86: quaint

Today's adventure in logophilia is

quaint

Quaint is another Britishism (I do love those) meaning "attractively unusual or old-fashioned." 

Though I like to think of this as a compliment, it can also be used as an insult.  I remember venturing to the east coast to visit Michelle and observing that all the tall multistory houses were rather quaint.  Michelle turned to me and said, "You meant that in a nice way, didn't you?" If you're a fan of Sherlock, I know I've heard it in there as an insult insinuating: "Oh, isn't that quaint? Aren't you silly and simple-minded?  What a tiny brain you have."  Funny how the same word can have two faces.

AIL Day 85: tetralogy

Today's adventure in logophilia is

tetralogy

A tetralogy is a series of four connected literary, artistic or musical works.  The Twilight series is a tetralogy.  I've also been tempted to make my current science fiction endeavors into a tetralogy (instead of a trilogy) just so that I can use this word in conversation.  Bad reason to write a novel or to drag out a series?  I don't know.  We'll see what the novels want to do.

AIL Day 84: ken

The adventure in logophilia for 4 December is/was

ken

Ken is a noun meaning the range of vision, perception, understanding or knowledge; sight or view.  According to Oxford Dictionaries, this word is often seen in Northern English and Scottish dialects, meaning "know" or "identify." 

AIL Day 83: gainsay

Today's adventure in logophilia is

gainsay

Gainsay is a verb meaning to deny or dispute, to speak against, to contradict or contravene, impugn or negate.  This is a skill of which I am lacking, at least aloud.  Strange how my characters can debate and quarrel on paper, however.  They're stronger than I am.  Why is that?

AIL Day 82: advent

Today is the first day of

Advent.  

Advent is simply the arrival or coming of a notable person, thing or event - from the Latin adventus (arrival) and advenire (to come).  This season of Advent specifically is preparing for the coming of Christ.  Each year, I can hardly my excitement to be able to listen to Christmas music again and think of new creations to give as gifts to my loved ones.  Provided this excitement does not give way to overwhelmed despair, this looks to be a good year. 

***

I have to vent, as a writer just beginning to dip her toe into the waters of social media, that Twitter has been frustrating me.  I know there must be an ebb and flow to how many followers one must have, but the last few days I've seen mine dwindle.  1.) I know building a platform takes time.  I've been at it two months, so I'm imploring myself to chill out.  2.) The ebb and flow and dwindle of followers must happen to everyone.  So... is it just more noticeable because I have so few followers to begin with?  3.)  Am I saying stupid things?  I thought not tweeting if I had nothing to say was the better option.  Perhaps I'm wrong.  4.) I still have followers, and this by no means precludes gaining others.  5.) There must be a way I can use it creatively.  Shall I tell a story?  Shall I do hiakus?  I am studying my options.

What it boils down to is this: putting oneself out there is hard.  Hard for a shy introvert.  Hard for everyone.  I still feel like I'm talking in a room full of people having many brilliant conversations, unheard and hiding in a corner, but I have to tell myself it will change.  As much as I hate advertizing myself and my writing, that's how the game is played these days... but it is by no means something that is "won" or "mastered" in one go, in one tweet, in one word.  It takes practice. 

If the numbers really bother me, I'll keep away for a day or two and then get right back in.

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.