Why I Live in the City

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You know what I love about living in Philadelphia?  It's so close to nature.

As witness the following:





And Brian Jacques is dead, alas . . .

I never met the man but I was a big fan of his work.  Particularly because he was writing at a time when I especially needed his books -- when my son, Sean, was first old enough for YA books.

There are a sufficiency of books for adults, and easily a bajillion books for children.  But for that in-between transition stage?  Not so many.  Especially when you want them to be the kind of books that will encourage a youngster to continue reading with pleasure.  So for several years I was constantly on the lookout.

One day I was in the Barnes and Noble in Bryn Mawr and cruised through the YA section.  I idly picked up a copy of Redwall to see if it might be worth reading the first page.  There was a ten-year old girl sitting quietly on the floor nearby, reading.  She glanced up from her book, saw what I was holding, and made an instant sale of that book and many subsequent volumes by solemnly saying, "Oh, that's an excellent book."

In my mind, that will stand forever as a worthy judgment of not only the book, but the life.  Well done, sir.  You wrote excellent books.

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Chopped, Shopped, and Gorgeous

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I'm still on the road.  Specifically, I'm outside of Pittsburgh, where chopping hills in half and using the rubble to create new hills is a matter of civic pride.  Seriously, I can't think of anywhere in the world that has retained a smaller percentage of its original topography.

As witness the photo above of the parking lot of I forget exactly which mall, nestled into the artfully-chopped landscape of Washington, PA.  America is still a beautiful land.  But it's not the kind of beauty our ancestors would recognize.


And speaking of writing workshops . . .

I'm going to be online-lecturing at the StarShipSofa Online Writers Workshop.  This is the first of what is apparently going to be a semi-annual series.  Other lecturers include James Patrick Kelly, Sheila Williams, David Mercurio Rivera, and my good friend and sometime Aubrey Darger impersonator Gregory Frost, who suggested I participate in the first place.  Greg's judgment on such matters is sound, so I'm going to give it my best.

Here, clipped from the announcement, are the very basics:

StarShipSofa Online Writers Workshop

(Saturday 12th March 5pm to 7pm UK)

Pacific Time         09:00am

Mountain Time     10:00am

Central Time        11:00am

Eastern Time       12:00noon

What will be covered in the first workshop:

• The Beginning – Gregory Frost
• Plot Tricks From The Dark Side – James Patrick Kelly
• How To Fix Your Story After Its Written and You Discover It Doesn’t Work – Michael Swanwick
• Why Writing Groups – Mercurio D. Rivera
• What An Editor Wants – Sheila Williams
• Q&A – All

You can read about it in more detail here.

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Scribbledehobbledehoyden: The Magpie's Eye: Page 25

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A writing exercise.  I suspect that I was putting all my creative energy into writing Dancing With Bears, and so scribbled down short outbursts of Anything Else.

Here's what it says:

Open:  In a land mine field

Open:  In a birth control clinic

Open:  In the President's bedroom

Open:  On Europa

Open:  Seventeen hours into your shift as an intern

Open:  On Sixth Avenue, carrying a Shakespeare second folio

Open:  On a chicken ranch, weeping

Open:  Two feet off the side of a major bridge

Open:  In a war zone

Open:  In a high school

Open:  In the Recursive Postmodern School of Ironic Self-Metaphor

You can see me sweating to come up with these, and you can see the point where I got sick of the whole thing and tied it off at the end.  But  I think it would be a pretty good exercise for a new writer:  List eleven varied places or situations to open a story with.  Then write a one-page opening for each.  I'm sure that if I tried it myself, I'd find a live story before I reached the end of the list.

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And Guess Where I'm . . .

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Yes, that's right.  I'm on the road again!  Thank God for The Learning Company and their massive courses-on-disks.  I'm currently working my way through the history of China.

Things really are happening, though.  I finished "The Dala Horse" yesterday and put it into the pie closet to cool down for a few weeks.  And I'm working on many, many other stories as well.  More on them -- and other cool projects -- as they heat up.


And a semi-private message to Zamzummim . . .

I haven't yet put together your box of books -- the box is only half-full and I have yet to brave the attic for the rest of the contents.  Mea culpa.  At least I feel guilty about it.  But -- scout's honor! -- I will.  Soon.  I promise.  Really.

Above:  The ice breaking up on the Schuylkill.  Nothing to do with today's post, really.  But very wintry.  The Market Street bridge looks great, dunnit?

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Scribbledehobbledehoyden: The Magpie's Eye: Page 24

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I think this speaks for itself.

The drawing started out as an attempt at a self-doodle-portrait.

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Snow Monsters of Somerville

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You can never predict these things.  Last weekend, I took a snapshot of the snow pile in my backyard, with tea candles in its eyes and mouth.  Alert websurfer Rona Fischman asked permission to repost it, and then sent the link to the Somerville Patch.  Where it was posted along with her idea that lots of Somervilleans should create their own snow monsters all at once and turn it into a yearly event. 

A kind-of-rainy Saturday put a bit of a damper on the project,  but several people created snow monsters nonetheless.

You can see the Somerville photos here. 

I think we should all rent a bus next year when Somerville does this again, and descend upon the town with snow shovels and bushels of tea candles to create giant snow monsters out of the snow mountains at the edge of their mall parking lots.

Above:  The snow monster is delighted to discover that he's a role model.  Also, he grew another eye.

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Scribbledehobbledehoyden: The Magpie's Eye: Page 23

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For the most part, nothing terribly interesting.  Notes for a letter to a friend suggesting I have a signing in his/her hometown.  Maybe yes, I said, when I have a book to promote.  Though I'm sorry to tell you that the South did not [something something].  Marianne's retirement.  And I have no idea what those last two words are.  None whatsoever.

A list of things to do and people to write.

But down there at the bottom:  Puking up culture.  That's evocative.  That's what I do in my worst moments as a writer.  That's what most published writing is.  Not saying something interesting and new.  Just puking up received culture.

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