Today I’m looking at finding the indifference in excitement and excitement in indifference.Everything about my work is excitement to me, the lights the shapes, the discovery, so how do I show indifference in that excitement. A second person might be indifferent to the excitement. The world might be indifferent to the excitement. What does indifference look like? I was thinking no filter at all. Only looking at circles. But even that is exciting. Maybe not looking through the lens finder at all.
It is Quadrille Monday where today’s challenge is to write a forty-four word poem which includes the word “warm” in some form. It will be an interesting exercise to condense all the lines I collected from the poems I’ve written this month into only forty-four words as my remix poem.
Attempts at Indifference Went Down in Flames
Let’s pretend I found indifference— was free of bias learned from experience and could know vibrations of unfiltered perceptions and nerves afire went for broke Nothing is as incomprehensible as honest truth —would I in my excitement be warmed by the fire or burned?
Last night I set up files for each of the scenes I need to get me through the end of this draft, and hopped from one to another writing about five hundred words into each. I still have a ways to go, but I think I can get to the end by the 30th. I’m excited.
Today I’m looking at finding the enhancement in diminution and the diminution in enhancement. Today’s study definitely starts with the dictionary.
enhancementnoun the state or quality of being elevated, heightened, or increased, as in quality, degree, intensity, or value
diminutionnoun the act, fact or process of diminishing, lessening; reduction
If one thinks about the law of supply and demand, one could enhance the value of something through diminution: lessening the available quantity. So that could be the diminution in enhancement. I’m still thinking about my first attempt at cubism yesterday. Cubism is a type of diminution, reducing something to its shapes and angles, and yet also increasing them by showing the shapes and angles from more than one point of view at the same time. So cubism could be the enhancement in diminution.
For today’s images, I cut another filter in an attempt at cubism, then took shots from different heights, and tried different intensities by adding my purple LEDs to the blue, and then using transparencies with mostly white.
I feel like all of today’s experiments got me closer to the cubism idea I had in mind. I think it’s a fun concept to explore further.
Yesterday I got my second NaNoWriMo win, so my draft is at 90,000 words, and yet I have a ways to go before I hit The End. I’m excited that I’m over-writing this year, so for the first time my revision process will be chiseling away instead of building up. However, I also want to get to The End, so I can let it rest, and focus on poetry next month while I put together my chapbook. Determination is key. I have four days: will I write this novel to the end? I sure hope so.
Today I’m looking at finding the calm in anxiety and the anxiety in calm. Actually, I’m looking to find that every day, but I’m looking at it differently today. For today’s images, I revisited the pin-hole patterns I’ve created, thinking of the black space as calm and the points of light as anxiety. I like how the images evoke both calm and anxiety: a keenness, a botheration in a halcyon harmony.
Today’s prompt is to write a family poem. Combining my prompts reminded me of a family gathering poem I wrote back in October of 2017. The poem was inspired by a flying horned monkey in a Joan Fontcuberta photograph which appears in this short video where he presents a museum showing of his work:
The Horned Flying Monkey In The Room
When it flew into the room You had just said, “That hurt my feelings” She said it never happened He wondered when you would get a real job He shoved his mouth so full of mashed potatoes he couldn’t answer any questions and the baby hit his sister, hard On purpose
When it flew into the room You were staring at your empty plate She was serving pork and steak He was asking about the bank He was chiding you for your tastes And the baby threw his food on the floor On purpose.
When it flew into the room You were fighting back tears She was poking at your fears He was pushing Roth-IRAs for later years He put his steak on top of your salad And the baby was kicking the table On purpose.
By the time anyone noticed it was in the room You stared at it curiously She said she didn’t see it He threw his plate at it It swooped down and pierced his neck with its horn And landed on the baby’s head On purpose.
This year, I’m looking forward to a quiet, relaxed Thanksgiving with my parents.For fun I revisited this poem, imagining the horned flying monkey arriving at tomorrow’s dinner.
This Year’s Horned Flying Monkey In The Room
When I first heard the flapping He had finished the same short grace She had passed me the mashed potatoes, and I was full of thanks for this quiet, relaxed meal
When it flew into the room, its horn glistening I put down my fork and knife and watched agape He stared at his plate and cut and cut, and She discussed the most recent Proverb of study
When it circled the room, dropping more than feathers She had mentioned a piece of political news I had argued a counterpoint, but needed to produce evidence, and He was yelling, though we were inches apart
When it perched on the table next to me He said, “I don’t know” in that sing-songy way, She made a connection about something unrelated, and I plopped a scoop of mashed potatoes on the tablecloth
When it stole her corn with its tail I wanted to laugh but didn’t say anything He decided it was time to unretire for the third time, and She admitted to the sin of pride
When it stabbed the turkey with its horn She said, “but what about the murdered babies?” I said, “Turkey’s gross! Why turkey?” and He said, “How do I get that thing out of there?”
When it flew away and we stared after He said the meal was delicious (though he has no sense of taste, or smell) She brought out her home made pies, sweet and rich with flaky crusts, and I knew that my dream holiday repast had finally come and gone
I’ll admit that I’m feeling a little anxious about actually getting to “The End” by the thirtieth. With all these words I keep writing, I would hope to see an end in sight, and I think I do, but I also don’t want to force it. I’ve enjoyed how the relationships between my characters have guided the story and I want everything to go into this draft, every single idea so I can carve out a great book from it in 2023, so today I’m going to stop stressing about it. Whatever happens, happens. I’m going to keep typing away, calmly having fun with this story, and see where it takes me.
If the American readers don’t stop by tomorrow, I hope you have a calm and relaxed Thanksgiving with tons to be thankful for. I’m sure I’ll have something to say about mine in the coming poems. 😊
Today I’m looking at finding the memory in forgetfulness and forgetfulness in memory. Today I recalled my recent detailed cut, covering the top and bottom so that it was more of a rectangle, so the repeated design was more stackable. Taking the images made me think of how recall itself is a form of forgetting because each time a memory is recalled, it is changed through the process of remembering.
Somehow the blue LED’s of the net-lights created an interesting 3-D effect in this configuration. If I remember, I’ll have to see how else I can use this effect.
Yesterday, I went to my first write in of this year. It was at my local library, in a glass meeting room in my local library. My ML was the only person who showed up. I’ve wanted to meet her and we enjoyed a long chat before we got to writing. However, I got a lot of writing done in a short time. I’m not sure if it was the need to get out of the house and into a new environment, or just the energy of meeting a new person, or the inspiration of talking shop, but the scene I’ve been working on finally came together, and a new avenue of clues and connections opened up.
If you haven’t done it yet, I highly recommend going to a live write-in if you can.
Today I’m looking at finding the silliness in seriousness and the seriousness in silliness. I’m excited for today’s study, because I take my silliness very seriously, or is it that I find my seriousness very silly?
definition: silliness n. the quality of lacking good sense; foolishness 2. absurdity, ridiculousness, or irrationality 3. clownish, whimsical, or exaggerated humor and playfulness; unrestrained high spirits
Interesting how the first two definitions appear to be negative, deficits, lacking, but the third includes whimsical and playful which are positive and “Unrestrained high spirits” sounds great. The more I study these abstract nouns, the more they also appear to be Janus words; which adds another dimension to this study. It makes sense to create one image for contradictory abstract nouns if each one actually contradicts itself.
What are you doing sitting in the mud? You look like a fool who lost a one man tug-of-war. I’ll find some rope and hold one end. I’m offering an out. You don’t have to thank me friend. Take it. I’m serious. And don’t let it tangle. I’m not trying to interfere with whatever you’re doing here, but don’t run against the tide just keep up the appearance of having some sense.
What are you doing there avoiding this mud? It’s cool and fun and perfect for play. I can’t think of a better way to spend the day. It squishes through my fingers. I can shape it like clay. It inspires happy thoughts of all manner of shapes. And it makes funny sounds that make me bubble with giggles, and fills my body with energy of squirmies and wiggles.
Don’t be absurd. You look ridiculous. The mud’s not for us, it’s for worms, or should have grunting pigs in it. Here take the rope, and I’ll pull you out. Before you get a parasite or grow a snout.
I’ll take that rope, but I’ll pull you in. I don’t want to lock horns, but I think it’s important for you to relax. It’s not good for your health to view the world with that stress and that weight. Come play with me, play with me, play in the mud.
Today I may pass 70,000 words in my draft. It’s a good time to be ramping up the conflict. I think I’ll start my writing session by listing my planned conflicts, then brainstorming five to ten ways of making them worse, and more surprising.
Today I’m looking at finding the disdain in pride and the pride in disdain. Though I’m not going to risk trying to take the images today—yesterday I twisted funny and almost ended up living in the mirrorworld because my back seized up—I did want to share an interesting find in my study this morning. Pride appears to be a Janus word, a word that also means its opposite. While exploring the definitions and collecting words in the thesaurus. I found disdain in the thesaurus under pride, and pride in the thesaurus under disdain. Thus finding the disdain in pride and the pride in disdain only takes looking in the thesaurus. There are positive aspects of pride such as happiness and self-esteem, but it also has negative aspects such as egotism and narcissism which can lead to disdain. I think this study deserves another look when I’m not in pain, and I’m capable of exploring its imagery.
This morning was so beautiful—the sun rising behind the mountain; the mountain reflecting on the lake, four shadowed water foul drifting on its surface, a soft, pastel world—and filled with sharp back pain.It’s hard to see what will be best for me. Some movement, some rest. All I want is pain free stillness. Hiding from the pain, from any expectation, putting words on the page, but worried that was what I was doing to get this pain n the first place. Why pain, why did you come to visit me? Why did my happy typing call you? Why did my contented creating deserve this? What did I ever do to you? And yet, here you are, my constant companion. What can I say, to kindly ask you to leave? To suggest your departure without being rude? Perhaps this is my punishment for pride. I don’t know if my happiness for finishing NaNoWriMo on the thirteenth was exactly pride: I was feeling grateful for finally understanding what it was like to feel the flow of words that others experience; I was feeling joy that my novel was continuing to inspire me to write, that my characters were talking to each other in my head as I made breakfast; I was feeling excited to possibly finish this draft in one month and see it through to the end: Is that pride? My pride? Before my fall? I didn’t physically fall. It just started to hurt. I don’t even remember when it started.
The sun crosses the horizon a threshold accomplishment she meets with glowing pride she rises through the branches casting shadows on nests she awakens birdsong, and taking it as praise, she rises higher, buoyant in her importance she shines upon the land, warming the soft grass and sand, and the people who come out of their boxes and worship her with their lifted faces closed eyes and smiles they bathe in her glory and she rises higher, kissing their skin and their hair, soaking up their laughter and joy and then she hears, “Get the sunscreen, hon,” and the sparkle is blocked by shades and she hears,” You don’t want to get burned,” and descends in disgrace at the disdain the people go back into boxes the morning has ended and the sun lowers her head down the other side of day.
Though I’ve managed to stay on track with my new goal of another 40,000 words by the end of the month which puts me at 2353 words each day, I’ve lost my excitement, and I’m back to having to yank the words out of me. I think it has a lot to do with back pain I’m experiencing causing frustration with life in general, but I think it may also have to do with not being excited about the scene I’m writing, but feeling like it’s necessary to the plot.
Time to brainstorm! If I’m not finding this scene fun, the reader won’t either. There has to be something that can happen that’ll be more interesting to get me from here to there. Maybe it’s time to explore a sub-plot, or maybe today’s the day I jump around a bit. I could even write the end, if that will get me excited again.
I also picked up a mystery novel, The Madness of Crowds by Louise Penny. Maybe reading a few chapters with get me excited to get back to my mystery.
Today I’m looking at finding the disbelief in belief and the belief in disbelief. A book I’ve been waiting on for a long time finally became available at the library. Nonconformers: A New History of Self-Taught Artists by Lisa Slominski (and contributors). Much of the art in this book especially the Art Brut, was created by people in Swiss Asylums. The pieces I am most drawn to are obsessively detailed pieces that the artists say were guided by spirits. Hilma af Klint’s work is also included in this book along with other spiritualists.
I find this belief (of these artists) that spirits use human vessels to create art, and that these spirits bring their messages through abstract art, fascinating. Inspired by the images created by Augustin Lesage and Adolf Wöfli, I thought I would revisit my pinhole technique adding lines to the dots and try using the quality of color and shape overlap in the mirrorworld to build a similar structure through repetition.
Today’s prompt is write a panel poem. This makes me think of different people on a panel. Judges, critics, gate keepers; people who make decisions that effect other people’s lives. I like a numbered stanza grid poem with each stanza representing the view of one of the members of the panel for this prompt.
I. Oo, oh, I don’t know You see, there’s a very fine line between droll and best in show, see, looking away brings me relief
III. The colors and lines these detail so fine, it’s hard to believe this precision was created by hand, that type of obsession, could drive someone mad
V. I’m in awe, in disbelief that this particular piece came to us for jury selection I’d like to proffer we take up a coffer and buy it for the museum
II. I do believe I would choose this piece if he didn’t have such strange beliefs if a spirit showed him what to do isn’t it he we should attribute this to?
IV. Did you see this here, where the music appears I believe it’s a real song. I mean, like he copied it from sheet music, or did he compose it, and should we consider that, in choosing, I mean?
VI. And now I am certain you’ve all lost your minds in this discussion of colors and lines for there’s clearly one winner, and I won’t hear another, look at the fur on this cat!
As I’ve mentioned, I’m using Novel Writing Blueprint Workbook by Jill Harris as my morning pages journal. I’m not using it to plan or plot my novel, I’m already almost halfway through, but as I write in it, it keeps me thinking about noveling, and it’s working! Highly recommend. I finally got to the character section and I really like Harris’s idea for exploring character creation: Instead of filling out character sheets, have another character describe that character. All the characters can take a turn describing each other. There could be a panel of characters that describe your main characters. 😃
Today I’m looking at finding the friendship in acquaintance and the acquaintance in friendship. I journaled a lot about how friendship is in acquaintance and acquaintance in friendship and it all came down to time. One has to be willing to put the time in to listen, to ask questions; one has to want to spend time with a person, concept, or idea.
Today’s prompt is “(blank) Story,” and it’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub where the word “wing” needs to be included in a poem of exactly 44 words.
Let’s pretend time broke a wing and can’t fly so your warmth next to me as we look out at the lake while the sun gets low in the sky and sparkles in our eyes won’t roam and you won’t look at your phone.
Today, I’m celebrating because I “won” NaNoWriMo yesterday by writing 50,000 words on my new novel draft. However, I want to complete my whole first draft since it’s going so well,so I reset my goal on the NaNoWriMo website for another 40,000 words. This ups the daily goal to over 2,353. It seems daunting, but my new “wake up and write on the novel” practice is working. I already have 1400 words on the day, and I haven’t really gotten into today’s planned writing. The only thing that’s bothering me about resetting my goal is I had to get rid of my original goal because they can’t overlap. Thus, my pretty win on the site is gone. I guess that’s a good motivator to meet my new goal. Still a bit of a bummer.
Today I’m looking at finding the dissatisfaction in satisfaction and the satisfaction in dissatisfaction. No matter what, when I hear the word “satisfaction,” the Rolling Stones’ song is instantly in my head. Why is “I can’t get no da da dum da da da dum satisfaction da da dum da da da dum” so stuck in my brain? In a way, that line itself, represents the contradictory abstract nouns for today, so does today’s image look like Jagger?
For today’s images I was inspired to address some filters I had put in a repair pile. Some of my older filters, though satisfying when created, had fallen apart, or needed some changes and had become dissatisfying. My original wire lines in an open circle filter had fallen apart, so I rearranged the wires and resecured them, but the real satisfaction came with how the lines interacted with the shadows from the string-lights I have in the mirrorworld.
Today’s prompt is to write an ekphrastic poem. I think I will attempt to write my poem in response or in conversation with one of today’s photographs.
Dissatisfaction rolls through rolls across, over, and around like waves jostled by rocks then reflected back upon themselves waves of satisfaction ebbing spreading doubt, turning in
the excitement of achievement not reflected back when shared like waves crashing upon the sands of days cooling the warm pride irritation of errors like sand fleas hopping on bared skin soon what was contentment becomes shivers, goosebumps, and itch
Dissatisfaction brings the blues but may light the way to greater satisfaction another day.
Yesterday’s work with Mapping the Hero’s Journey with Tarot by Arwen Lynch, took time, and I wrote less words on my novel than I might have liked, but I feel like I have a real understanding of where my novel is going and how everything fits together. And the cards I drew for the scene, helped me figure out connections to other clues and how the two characters are trying to manipulate each other.
I did a Celtic Cross and a Hero’s Journey reading for the novel itself. What was fun about interpreting the results for each of those, is they each informed some choices I had been waffling on for future scenes and confirmed or solidified my ideas about what I’ve written so far. That’s what’s so fun about plotting with tarot, the cards are symbolic and broad enough to leave room for interpretation, but specific enough to help make decisions.
Though I went to bed feeling a bit worried that I was burning out, I woke up and went straight to my scenes and already have my minimal word count for the day. It feels great to have any self-imposed pressure off. I think I will try to get straight to the page in the morning for the rest of the month and see how it goes.
Today I’m looking at finding the inelegance in elegance and the elegance in inelegance. When I think of elegance, I think of long lines and smooth curves, of jewel monochromes against black, exotic smells and tastes (more spicy than fruity), lush soft and silky textures that shine in soft light, and traditional sounds played on intricately carved instruments. Inelegance is blaring car horns and screeching brakes, boring monochrome spray-painted tags in easy to reach places in parks, the dry sharp skin that keeps growing on my heels, fast food chains, and fruity chemical perfumes. How, when, and where do these two worlds meet? And what does that look like.
After playing in my dictionary, I found that “Suave” seems to encompass both elegance and inelegance. Suave adj. 1. smoothly though often superficially gracious and sophisticated 2. smooth in texture, performance, or style
An old rhyme from my childhood popped into my head, “He was suave, debonair; he used oil on his hair.” I looked it up and found a PSA from 1980 at IN27WORDSORLESS “Mostly forgettable TV quote (7)” . What a fun blast from the past, and I think it expresses these contradictory abstract nouns perfectly.
For today’s images I enjoyed the elegant patterns created by light and shadows on my closet doors by the inelegant overgrowth outside my bedroom window.
Today’s prompt for some stream of consciousness writing is “starts with or contains ‘cel.’” Find a word that begins with or contains “cel.”
The first word that came to mind was celebrate. I am celebrating an acceptance letter from Stone Canoe literary journal yesterday. I will have to images in the March 2023 issue. It was such a happy surprise and transformed me into a celebrator. But there are so many fun “cel” words, like cel itself. Spelled either cel or cell, it means a transparent sheet of celluloid on which objects are drawn or painted in the making of animated cartoons. And right under cel in my dictionary is celadon which is a grayish yellow green which makes me think of the final leaves falling from the trees, and the color of by wet and dry sad looking grass right now. But for my final selection today, I settled on celerity which is a noun that means rapidity of motion or action. Not only does it seem to be a new to me word, which I always love to discover, it also has a great sound and meaning. From the Latin celeritas, celer in French meaning swift. My dictionary says it is from the 15th century.
So what does celerity make me think of. The robot’s celerity only discouraged the other workers doing their best to keep up. Her celerity made me think she was acting impulsively. And if I put both of those ideas together. The celerity of the robot may lead to problems in situations that need thoughtful weighing of pros and cons that do not have easy answers. Celerity is a fun word, but obviously makes me think of celery and celebrity and celebrity celery which I don’t think has ever existed but should. Maybe there’s a Guinness record for largest or heaviest celery which would then be a celebrity celery in certain circles.
Today’s prompt is to write a future poem. Since the scene I’ll be working on today in my novel includes a psychic, it makes sense to have a psychic as my speaker in my future poem.
What do I see? Future people, future places, future things or extrapolations of present people present places, present things or extensions of past people, past places, past things all the same to me and all disappointing when you’ve seen it all before
What do I see? betrayal, infidelity, hypocrisy, and cruelty all the desperation caused by want acts of the delusional causing ripples of sadistic torment leading to unfulfilled needs causing hunger, thirst and bad behavior
What do I see? insecurities, fear, and doubts miserable people who want simple immediate answers, who want everything to be alright, who want someone else to fix it because change is too hard
What do I see? Whatever she wants to hear whatever answer brings a smile everything he hopes and dreams of everything his fantasies reveal and something fuzzy that won’t become clear until they come back with more cash
Today I’ll be working with Mapping the Hero’s Journey with Tarot by Arwen Lynch, not only to find ideas for my plot, but to create the reading that my protagonist receives from her new friend the town psychic. It should be a really fun writing day.