"Slow Journaling", jour 1

J'ai trois entrées en chantier pour ce blogue et j'espère les faire avant de partir pour Montréal samedi. En attendant, quelques mots sur une série d'entrées qui se feront au cours des deux prochains mois.

En juin et juillet, j'ai participé au défi Index-Card-a-Day, qui enjoigne les participants à créer une œuvre visuelle par jour pendant 61 jours. J'en reparlerai. Plusieurs participants ont décidé de continuer, d'une manière ou d'une autre et j'en suis. Pendant ICAD, j'ai appris l'approche du "slow journaling" qui consiste à résumer sa journée en une seule phrase, écrite en gros, avec fioritures et décorations. J'appliquerai cette approche.

Jour 1

Jour 1

Diversity in Outerspace? The Uniformisation of Human Cultures in the Star Trek Universe

When I was poor, just out of grad school and jobless, I passed the time watching television and trying like hell to make it useful. The up-side was that I kept my brain working and that it was relatively cheap. So long as we had cable, I could do research.

Then I became a professor and the research never got written down as articles for lack of time. Which is sad. Enjoy the first of a few old presentations on Star Trek and sci-fi television:

 

Graphical Epiphany applied

So I've been thinking a lot* about using a more graphical approach to my slide presentations and seminar discussion prompts. As the previous blog entry showed, I had a sort of epiphany about this a few days ago. Yesterday, I went to a Departmental Seminar series conference where I tried taking sketchnotes (sorta). The conference was not as interesting as I had hoped. I was expecting a presentation of three relatively new concepts in academic history (big history, deep history and history of the Anthropocene) and instead got a manifesto for the return to the longue durée. Since I never gave up on the longue durée, it was not as useful as I had wanted. But I took notes. I had issues with my pen, and I killed the English language in places, but I took notes!

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Then I thought about trying to work more on my Sketchplanations-inspired discussion prompts. What is interesting about what Jono Hey is doing is that he takes one idea, one concept, or one set of info and distills it all into one graphic or a three to four set of graphics. That is a spectacularly difficult thing to do, I find. He has done hundreds by now and he was a UX guy long before that, so graphics are not a foreign language to him. I am a wordsmith by nature, so thinking in images is much harder for me. Words come out easily. Images come out with some difficulty. The more so that I am not used to doing it much. I'm getting better. I still kill English, but I'm better.

Very basic anthropological concept discussion prompt ('shoped)

Very basic anthropological concept discussion prompt ('shoped)

 

*Yes, this means thinking about this rather than marking or writing the things that have deadlines, I know.

Iminent storytelling and incipient shinies

I have had the pleasure of meeting Elise Matthesen on several occasions and I have been an admirer of her textual and jewelry art ever since. Not only is she an fabulous writer and poet, she is an extraodinary jeweler. Every one of her pieces has a story within. Some are soft and sweet, some are whimsical, some are as subtle as a fist to the gut. I love all of it, even those pieces I would never wear.

What it extraordinary about all her jewelry is that authors, almost exclusively women, have writter the stories and the poems within them. Jo Walton wrote Tooth and Claw from a necklace called The Crowded Minds of Dragons. Sarah Monette's incredible short story "After the Dragon" was written from the necklace After the Dragon she learned to love her body. And then there was the pendant Nine Things about Oracles that fueled more than a hundred responses, including my own watercolour work. There are dozens of other examples like this. No exageration. She is that good.

Unnamed Elise Matthesen pendant, 2006

Unnamed Elise Matthesen pendant, 2006

Years ago, I think 2006, she made a host of small improvised pieces at Farthing Party, calling out "Who wants a story" and flinging them to the responding members of the audience. I got one. This unnamed piece, as Elise meant it, was full of wind. You can hear it when you hold it in your hand. Still, to me, it is also full of anger, turmoil and movement.

From it, I wrote the last chapter of half of my WIP novel 18 jours en juillet. The novel tells the story of a young construction worker that discovers that rooms and buildings are more malleable than what they should be. The last chapter, the last eponymous July day, is when he is finally confronted with those who wield this power over built space. The scene is full of wind, rain, sleet and screams.

Unfortunately, after his eighteen July days, I got stuck. I knew there was something missing from the story. I was not sure what exactly and it took me a long time, a few years in fact, to figure it out. My main character's story needed a counterpoint. A few months yet brought me to realize that this counterpoint needed to be a elderly woman. Even more reflexion led me to realize that this woman was a urbanized Innu born and rejected from her community from a hostg of personal reasons after a long stay in a residential school. I knew then that she was to have a parallel story during those same 18 days. But I did not know what that story would be.

Then late last year, Elise had a "Shinies Sale" as she has regularly. Among the pieces were this:

Where the Story Was, Elise Matthesen, 2013.

Where the Story Was, Elise Matthesen, 2013.

As is always the case with her jewelry, I am either delighted by it and happy to look at it, or I feel the rug pulled from under my feet. In the latter cases, I have to fight the urge to buy it. It has not happened often, but those of you who know me well know that I wear so little jewely that buying any is almost always a waste of money. In the case of Where the Story Was, I could not resist. I had to buy it. I had to hold it in my hands.

I have had it for nearly 8 weeks now and I think I know where the story of 18 jours is going. I think I have found the story that was in the pendant and that was waiting for me to flesh out. It might take a couple years for me to do that, mostly because my next sabbatical is in 2015-16, but the story of my Innu elder is in it. I know it is. I can feel it there.

Funny story: when I wore the pendant the first time, Chaton, who is almost four years old, asked me what it was. I said it was jewelry made by me friend Elise (she will forgive the shortcut). I told him it was called Where the Story Was. He immediately understood it. He pointed to the unpolished area, called it a hole from which the story emerged and settled into the book below. He then pulled on the chain, hard, to show it to my husdand and explain to him where the story was and where it is now. A couple days ago, I wore it again and Chaton once again pulled on it and asked me to tell him what the story was that used to be there. I told him I was not sure yet. I was looking to find out. He asked me to remember to tell him when I figure it out.

This brings me to alternate worldview. I think this is what I need for SNOD, the other WIP I'm working on. And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if I should buy it, or simply work from it from the pictures Elise has put online. Then again, I just got a royalties check and I could use part of that to purchase it. Oh world, help me!

Farthing Party 2013 (last edition) wrap-up.

September 28th-29th in Montreal was the very final, last Farthing Party mini-convention, organized yearly by author Jo Walton (with a lot of help from very good friends) since the release of her novel Farthing in 2006, the first volume in the Small Changes trilogy. I have been to four Farthings in all, but most of the time, I would dash in and out on the Saturday, sometimes on the Sunday, and rush back home in Ottawa. This was the first one I was able to stay for the entire deal, from the Friday night dinner to the Sunday evening party. Since this was the last one, I had to be there for the whole thing; it was my last chance.

As usual, the panels were filled with good authors and good friends, usually being both, and the conversations during and between them was wonderful and engaging. 

Saturday:

Good Reads: this panel is a tradition at Farthing and I participated to one a few years back. Each panellist suggests a good book that all read and then discuss and. This time, Christopher Davis, Jeff Heard, Howard To and Beth Friedman talked about four books I had never heard of, though one author was familiar. Jeffrey Ford's The Drowned Life is an American (sorta) magic realism collection I probably will pick up. I might also look into his The Well-Built City trilogy. Melissa Scott and Lisa A. Barnett's Point of Hopes from 1995 is a kind of alternate history that does not sound like something I would like. Jonathan Carroll's Sleeping in Flame sounds interesting. I know him from The Land of Laughs. James Alan Gardner's Expendable sounds like John Scalzi's Redshirts, but without any the irony and none of the meta. 

After a panel on Mad Scientists, which concluded that comics and webcomics are currently much better at doing them than novels, I had the honour of participating on a panel about Candas Jane Dorsey's Black Wine, from 1997. I met Candas the same year and place I met Jo, at Boréal 2006, and was stunned then to realize that I had actually read and owned one of her books. Even if I could not then (still can't) find the copy I had bought in 1998. I have bought both the new edition ebook and a like-new copy of the first edition, though not hardback like the one I probably loaned to someone out there. Marissa Lingen summarized the panel discussion better than I ever could:

 

Candas Jane Dorsey’s Black Wine. Five Rivers Press has just reprinted this hard-to-find book. [Tournevis] told of finding it when it was new and she was a college student: “I opened the book again, and the sentence was still there.” That made me smile. Hardly anybody seemed to have just bought the book in a normal way when it first came out. It’s on the cusp of at least four genres (SF, fantasy, gothic, and horror) and refuses to choose between them rather than neglecting to do so. Someone suggested that the title should be taken as a warning, not to read this on an empty stomach, to take it slow. There was strong sense that everything on this planet was distributed unevenly, like tech and supplies are on our own planet. It was compared favorably to Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn, which some panelists felt handled the subject matter in a way that was far more fetishistic than Black Wine‘s sense that people form a sense of normal that is local to their own circumstances.
 

In short, this novel is incredible! Go buy it now! 

In the afternoon, Jo, Greer Gilman and Marissa Lingen spoke about the fact that all three women have had an exceptionally productive year so far. Jo finished two and a half novels and on one day wrote 10,000 words. Greer has written more this year so far than the previous several years. Marissa has a boat load of stories and two and a half novels as well. The panel was titled Maybe It's Sunspots, and it seems like the most plausible explanation. Interestingly, that evening, Jim Hines (not present) tweeted that his novel had reached 70,000 words in record time and Nova Ren Suma (also not present) blogged about having written more than 43,000 words in two weeks. Considering how much work, though no writing, I did in the last three weeks, I guess sunspots are working for a lot of people these days.

I went out for lunch and rest and came back for the late afternoon panel on Ends of the World. Jo, Alison Sinclair, Tom Womack, PNH and Jim MacDonald talked about the classic ways in which the world tends to end, the good perennial staples of world ending in fiction, as well as the fashions in apocalypses since the Second Word War. Each also spoke of their favourite ends, with examples.

The party was good. As a thank you for all the Farthings, Jo was given a stupendous necklace made by the incredibly talented Elise Matthesen. The necklace is called Ibidem and represents Jo's way of bringing people together all in one place. Jo was touched. I was floored. What a beautiful gift.

Sunday

After a long and much needed sleep, the day started with the annual Joy of Reading, where a dozen or so people read excerpts from a favourite novel, poem or short story. I read a couple pages from Argleton by Suw Charman-Anderson and quite a few people wrote the information down. Fun was had by all.

Next came a panel on Mad Art, a counter point to the previous Mad panel. TMH, Jon Singer, Glenn Grant, Tim Cooper and Greer Gelman spoke mostly of mad people who made art, mad artists really, rather than mad art proper, though the art produced was often maddening. Henry Drager and Richard Dadd were mentioned at length. Glenn spoke of Burning Man, which he attends yearly. At least the Burn is a mad affair for sure. Jon Singer had been put on the panel as a mad artist of sorts and proved the point by being heard saying of a bowl he made : "The one was actually colored with 1% Europium Oxyde." Europium is kind of radioactive.

I left early for lunch and nap and returned for the Building Fantasy Worlds panel. Alec Austin, Marissa Lingen, Terry MacGarry, Jim MacDonald and Jo spoke of how they world-build, what they strive for, what they avoid and what they don't like to see in other writers. The most applauded advice came from Jim (who got it from another famous other whose name I did not write down and have forgotten 8 days later as I write this): "Do not give the reader time, distance and speed." These are too many data points for the reader to figure out what's wrong with the world you built.

Then came another perennial at Farthing, the writing process panel called You Write Funny. I always enjoy those the most. Jo, Debra Doyle, Terry MacGarry, Alison Sinclair and Lila Garrott spoke of all the quirks, rituals, necessities, tools and techniques they use to plot, put together and write their fictions. They may have changed over time, from one work to another. They of course differ broadly from one author to the other and the comparisons are what make the panel fun. Debra spoke of how much she hates writing the end. Jo spoke of the challenge of making your random berserker Visigoth a real person rather than just some random berserker Visigoth. All agreed with Jo that "The last words of a book are inevitable". Indeed.

The next panel was on the works of Patrick Rothfuss, notably the first two volumes of the King Killer Chronicle, its strengths, weaknesses, appeals and annoyances. I was not interested in this at all, but I stayed because one of the panelist was 10-year-old David To, who has recently discovered SFF, started reading it profusely only a few years ago, and met Rothfuss in person at WorldCon this year, at his first con. Farthing was his third con ever! He was adorable, insightful and held his own against Jo Alec Austin, Lila Garrott and Tili Sokolow. I was impressed.

The last panel was again a That's Another Panel!, which traditionally Jo puts together on the afternoon of the last day, on a theme that ran through the weekend's discussions. Jo, Marissa, Alec, Greer and Lila talked about stories that seem to go where they do not want it to or go where one wants to but in an unexpected way. They also discussed how story expectations differ in various cultures and between genres. They focussed on how genre expectations often prevent the readers from appreciating stories that undermine or overturn these expectations. All panelists try to use the rut of genre expectations to lead readers where they do not expect, with varying success at times. A great discussion and a fitting end to a great edition of Farthing Party.

After a good supper with good company, I went to Jo's house for the traditional Sunday night party, where the greatest cliché was realized when I joined a conversation of SFF readers that turned somehow on a conversation on children and parenting and which went back there every time we tried to steer it back on fiction and books. I left early because I was exhausted and no fun for anyone. 

I will miss Farthing Party, but I would not be surprised if, one day, Jo or one of Jo's friends in Montréal puts a Farthing-like mini-con together again, just for the fun of it, because we all love Jo. Luckily, I go to Montréal often enough to see Jo from time to time, so at least I get to have a mini-Farthing all to myself. 

Edited 18/02/2014: fixed broken link.

Reprise du vieux blogue: Le Petit chien de laine avec une queue de coton

Cette entrée date du 29 mai 2012 sur la vieille version LiveJournal de ce blogue. Je crois qu'elle mérite une reprise

Nous avons découvert les livres-disques de La Montagne secrète à travers leurs applications iOS et notre Chaton est tombé complètement amoureux du Petit chien de laine. Il l'aime au point de regarder l'appli interactive plusieurs fois de suite, tant qu'il y a quelques semaines, j'ai cherché en ligne si quelqu'un avait produit des petits chiens de laine comme dans la chanson. Je suis tombée sur le blogue de M comme Maman (devenu depuis M comme Muse) qui elle aussi avait des enfants amoureux de la chanson. Pour Noël il y a quelques années, elle avait cousu un petit chien de laine avec de vieux chandails de laine qu'elle avait feutrés dans la laveuse. Quelle belle idée, que je ne suis appliquée à voler sur le champs.
Elle avait utilisé un patron d'un livre que je ne possède pas, alors je suis allée en ligne pour trouver un patron gratuit de chien de peluche. J'ai trouvé un patron intitulé Elsie the little dog qui est adorable, mais dont les pattes et le museau étaient un peu trop court à mon goût et qui avait une queue intégrée.
Je l'ai donné hier soir au Chaton, mais il a fait ce qu'il fait avec tous les nouveaux toutous qui entrent dans la maison, il l'a ignoré (sauf deux; les dizaines d'autres furent ignorés pendant des semaines, sinon encore). Il y aura des photos un jour, quand il reconnaitra ce que ce chien représente.

 

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Mes premières histoires

D'aussi loin que je me souvienne, j'ai toujours fait des histoires. Mon père aime raconter que lorsque j'avais 18 mois, je racontais déjà: "Il était une fois, blablablablabla. Et puis, blablablablabla. Ensuite, blablablablabla. Fin."  De plus, mes parents ont conservé plusieurs des cahiers d'exercices dans lesquels j'ai composé des histoires et des poèmes, souvent en guise de devoir, mais pas exclusivement. Pendant la deuxième moitié de ma deuxième année et pendant toute ma troisième, j'ai écrit une petite histoire ou un (épouvantable) poème presque tous les jours. 

Aujourd'hui, l'Office of Letters and Light (les organisateurs de NaNoWriMo) incite ses participants et suporters à partager leur première histoire dans le cadre de la journée Stories Matter/Writing Matters. Comme je ne peux pas identifier qu'elle fut la première, en voici deux choisies au hasard. Oui, j'ai corrigé les fautes. Amusez-vous!

WRITING MATTERS!

Pic-Hayoye est un hérisson malin, fouineur, et le plus drôle, il veut trouver la plus grande et la plus petite îles du monde. Mais il y a un problème : la plus grande, c’est l’Australie et la plus petite n’est pas encore trouvée. Et comment la trouver? Un jour, Pic-Hayoye se promenait, il entend : « Au secours! Au secours! » Pic-Hayoye lance un peu de mousse de tourbe pour sauver la malheureuse, mais ça flote! Il a découvert la plus petite île du monde en sauvant la petite bête.
— "Pic-Hayoye, le hérisson." Histoire datée du 29 septembre 1981
Un jour, je suis allé en Nouvelle-Zélande. Là-bas, il y a des volcans. Les Zélandais apportent des présents au pieds des volcans. Ils les vénèrent. Tout-à-coup, le volcan du Soleil fait irruption. Il est réputé pour sa très chaude lave. Mais à la surprise de tous, le Père-Noël sort du volcan et la neige commence à tomber. Le Père-Noël lance des cadeaux sur la Nouvelle-Zélande.
— "Le volcan et le Père-Noël." Histoire datée du 18 décembre 1981
Des cahiers bourrés de mes écrits on-ne-peut-plus juvéniles... 

Des cahiers bourrés de mes écrits on-ne-peut-plus juvéniles...