Communication
Before we married, CJ and I talked about a lot of things – how we’d run our finances, how many children we wanted to have, where we wanted to live, whether we planned to buy a house one day, and so on. We had similar views on most things, but I also observed that we had very different tidiness levels/expectations.
For that reason, we chose to rent a two-bedroom flat. . . so CJ had a place to be messy (and to play on the internet to his ADD heart’s content). That made a huge difference to both our stress levels. I also communicated to him in no uncertain terms that leaving his stuff everywhere makes me crazy – and set aside a drawer in our living room so that when he forgets I can simply put whatever-it-is “away” and he knows where to find it.
CJ listened to what I was saying, and our house is genuinely always tidy – except of course for the study (he picked up a bag there the other day, and it was attached to the wall with spider webs). CJ quite enjoys having a tidy living area, and my anxiety disorder is better than it’s ever been because I feel safe and loved.
I’m more than six months pregnant now, so I’ve just begun talking to friends and family about how they expect to be treated when I’m in labour and when Louisette is first brought into the world. Some people are very easy to predict – they really don’t care. Others would be offended if I didn’t call them at the first sign of real contractions. Still others will probably surprise me.
When my sister was in labour, she had a minor complication that caused a six-hour ominous silence in news. Although we knew something was wrong, the hospital refused to tell us what it was. For this reason, my sister will be my liaison to the outside world when I’m in labour, so (a) No-one is panicking, wondering if Louisette and I have died, and (b) I don’t have to worry about other people while I’m. . . busy (did I mention I have an anxiety disorder?)
I talked to my mum-in-law yesterday. She is a very respectful person, and quite self-contained, so my guess was that she’d need very few updates, and would be happy to wait several hours after birth before meeting Louisette (the birthing centre recommends at least two hours before any visitors are allowed in – so the baby has heaps of parental skin-to-skin contact without obscure relations/workmates wandering in on a topless and exhausted new mum). I was correct in my guesses, but she did have one request: She’d like CJ to phone her.
To which I said: Duh! Of course she would! And it’s so easy for me to make her happy without breaching my own personal space at all.
One of the great things about both my mum and my mum-in-law is that they know what they want and they are able to communicate it clearly. This is the best gift a parent can give to their grown-up children. It prevents an ocean of misunderstanding and pain.
Incidentally, I do plan to blog about labour while it’s happening (at least in the early stages), and to update pretty soon after birth (that’ll be delegated to my sister to do, possibly even with a photo of Louisette). BUT for at least ONE WEEK after Louisette is born I will refuse to receive visitors or even take phone calls. The Louisette show will be STRICTLY invitation only. People who know me can email to ask permission to come over, and I’ll respond when I feel like it.
This is mostly because I will be tired, sore, hormonal, and often naked. I’m sure you understand 🙂
“The Steampunk Bible” by Jeff Vandermeer with SJ Chambers
This review is happening on a Sunday (rather than the usual book-review Friday) because it’s non-fiction.
“The Steampunk Bible” comes up in almost every Steampunk discussion, and it deserves it. For one thing, it was published this year – 2011 – so it’s one of the most up-to-date looks at the entire Steampunk subculture that you can find (away from the somewhat less reliable interwebs).
I’ve been deliberately looking into Steampunk for a while now (mainly the literature, but also the things that cause internet rants*), and in my opinion this book does a very good job of catching the biggest names (Moorcock, Carringer, Priest, Foglio, Westerfeld, etc – with the exception of Philip Reeve and Richard Harland) and the most influential trends – art, engineering, fashion. The authors have chosen to emphasise the inclusiveness of steampunk, which is of course a good thing.
If you want to know about as much as anyone does about steampunk, this is the place to start. Oh! And it’s illustrated throughout in full colour, so it’s a visual treat.
Free sample (interview with Scott Westerfeld):
What is your personal definition of Steampunk?
It’s partly a set of nostalgias – for handmade and human-scale technologies, baroque design, and elegant dress and manners – combined with the puerile pleasure of mussing up a very stuffy stage in history, bringing a flamethrower to a tea party, so to speak. And this flamethrower extends to the political and social as well as technological, because Steampunk creates a new set of Victorian stories. . .
*Definitions, particularly what is or is not Steampunk (and the countless subgenres sprouting like weeds). Whether Steampunk should be dark and/or political. The distinction between makers (who make functional items) and artists (who make beautiful things that hint at function but don’t actually possess it). The curious anger some people feel about the travesty of NON-FUNCTIONAL *gasp* goggles. Etc.
The myth of self-publishing success
Hollywood and the media feed us a lot of rubbish. Every school classroom (particularly in a rough area) is full of world-class singers/dancers who simply don’t realise how amazing they are until a teacher inspires them to follow their dreams. Every socially awkward girl is actually stunningly beautiful after a haircut and some contact lenses. Every nerdy kid is actually a mathematical genius. . . and so on.
I’m sorry, but it’s just not true. You are almost certainly not a misunderstood genius. Even with a whole lot of hard work, you probably won’t win gold at the Olympics (you’d be amazed how many people don’t). And even if you spend a year – or five years, or even ten years – working on a book (or ten books) – you may not be very good.
I fully understand how hard it is to accept one’s own lack of writing talent – particularly after a lot of hard work towards a goal that other people seem to achieve so easily. A LOT of people don’t accept it – and so they blame mainstream publishing.
And thus is born the extremely powerful myth that self-publishing is the road to success. The few tales of actual self-publishing success are given a huge amount of media time, because they make a great story. The reason they make a great story is because they’re extremely, extremely rare.
Here‘s one of many true and rational articles standing up against the tidal wave of “believe in yourself and self-publish your way to fame and fortune” articles that we’ve all seen.
And here’s my cat, showing us a far likelier road to happiness:
Narnia #1 of 7: “The Magician’s Nephew” by CS Lewis
This story is about two British children, Polly and Digory, who go exploring in the attic and find far more than they expected. Digory’s mad and magical uncle hurls them into another world, from which they travel to the ancient and dying world of Charn, and bring back an ancient (and very entertaining) evil by accident, who plunges London into delightful chaos before they manage to get her out of our world and into a brand new one. . . Narnia.
I grew up reading a variety of classics (and other books which were simply old, because they were on my parents’ bookshelves) and the difference in writing style between then and now is often painfully obvious. Older books have long passages of description (scenery, technology, people, situations) and a slower pace. Most older books – including many that are great – would never be published today.
Which is why the quality of CS Lewis’ writing was such a welcome surprise. I’d read the books before, but I assumed that I had seen them through the rose-coloured glasses of youth and familiarity. But they are seriously well written. CS Lewis has a brilliant grasp on the small, realistic details that make everything from talking animals to magic rings not just believable but as real and vivid and three-dimensional as London itself.
His young characters always do act and speak like children – but simultaneously show true courage and goodness. And his worlds are brilliantly realised – totally original and never lacking in imaginative power. He’s also often funny.
The book is particularly enjoyable as a prequel to “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” – all seven Narnia books (which I’ll be reviewing each Friday for the next six weeks) stand alone in their own right, but have delightful connections to the rest. It’s also particularly enjoyable for Christians, who see layers of meaning beneath the adventures.
Free sample (The Magician, Uncle Andrew, has managed to convince himself that the talking animals can’t actually talk, and as a result there are certain communication difficulties as the animals attempt to figure out exactly what he is, and try their best to look after him):
The Donkey collected great piles of thistles and threw them in, but Uncle Andrew didn’t seem to care for them. The Squirrels bombarded him with volleys of nuts, but he only covered his head with his hands and tried to keep out of the way. Several birds flew back and forth diligently dropping worms on him. The Bear was especially kind. During the afternoon he found a wild bees’ nest and instead of eating it himself (which he would very much like to have done), this worthy creature brought it back to Uncle Andrew. But this was in fact the worst failure of all. The Bear lobbed the whole sticky mass over the top of the enclosure and unfortunately it hit Uncle Andrew slap in the face (not all the bees were dead). The Bear, who would not at all have minded being hit in the face by a honeycomb himself, could not understand why Uncle Andrew staggered back, slipped, and sat down. And it was sheer bad luck that he landed in the pile of thistles. . . . The cleverer ones were quite sure by now that some of the sounds which came out of his mouth had a meaning. They christened him Brandy because he made that noise so often.
Rating: PG. I’d call it absolutely G and safe for anyone, but one character is a close parallel to Jesus Christ (in one of the later books this character clearly states that he exists on Earth as well, is known by a different name there, and that the children have been brought into Narnia so that they can more easily recognise him on Earth), and some atheists have found that offensive. The books do focus on the adventures, rather than allegory about 95% of the time.
Kick
My cat Ana came and sat on my lap today, all snuggled up against me as I was reading. Louisette kicked her through my stomach – right in the head.
As usual when Ana feels affectionate, she chose to ignore any hint of movement. Twice.
This marks the first interaction between our “kids” – human and otherwise.
Tomorrow: The first of seven “Narnia Chronicles” reviews.
Next week: Gory pics from this Saturday’s Zombie Walk.
Things my mum did right
Probably the two greatest things my parents did for me were having a stable marriage, and making vegetables part of everyday life. But three moments from childhood (very possibly the last three my mum would think of) stick out in my mind as meaning a great deal to me.
1. One day my mum took me out of school for a dentist’s appointment. After the appointment was done, I realised Mum wasn’t taking me back to school. I asked her where we were going, and she said we’d just hang out for the rest of the day – which we did. As I recall, we also bought a pair of shoes. It was a day of glorious, unexpected freedom.
2. One holiday, my whole family went and stayed with my maternal grandma and grandpa in Coffs Harbour. Coffs Harbour has a beach, which is pretty much the definition of “holiday” in Australia. My brother and sister and I all knew that we were expected to assist in either cooking or hand-washing dishes every day, and we’d long since grown used to the idea (at home we had a dishwasher, but we were used to daily food chores). One day my grandmother told me to dust.
At home I was accustomed to washing bathrooms, doing clothes washing, cooking, dishes, vacuuming, tidying up public areas, gardening, and various other chores – but dusting was unfamiliar (I imagine Mum did it herself rather than risk her bits of precious). Not only was it unfamiliar, but it was a hot day, I was on holiday, and my grandma was acting as if I’d done nothing to contribute to the household and should have already offered to dust for her. We both got narky fast. To my enduring surprise, my Mum stood up for me, pointing out that I was on holiday, that I’d been doing my share of the chores, and that I was taken by surprise by her demand. I felt respected (and did the dusting).
3. Way back in primary school, four deep holes were dug in our backyard. My siblings and I discovered them when we arrived home from school. “I wonder what they’re for,” said Mum. “Something must be coming. Something. . . unusual.”
Soon after that day, the four holes were filled with concrete. “Hmm,” said Mum. “What could it possibly be?” I don’t remember the ensuing discussion very clearly, but I think there may have been suggestions about dinosaurs and/or aliens coming to our backyard.
Some time later, we came home from school, all a-wonder, and – THERE WAS AN ENTIRE PLAYGROUND IN OUR YARD. It had a variety of swings, a slide, monkey bars, and so on. In short, it was brilliant. We spent many hours playing on that playground for years afterwards, but when I look back it’s the fantastic, magic-edged mystery surrounding the arrival of an unknown something that sticks with me. I still love that sense of wonder.
Hopefully my own kids will have a few incidents like those that stick out in their memories and hearts.
I am twenty-eight weeks pregnant today, which means Louisette is now medically a “baby” rather than a “fetus”. From now on, even if she was born tomorrow, she’d probably be fundamentally all right. My muscle pain moved to my back for a while, but now seems to be largely gone. I’ve felt a million times better ever since the second trimester was done. Here’s some pics from the Moulin Rouge party (“Cabaret” was the other costume option) CJ and I attended last Saturday (it looks like I’m sticking ym belly out; I’m not):
Moulin Rouge Party
I could talk about the conversation, the food, and the venue – or I could just show you what you missed:
You’re welcome, gentlemen.
Is that a zombie I see before me?
This Saturday is World Zombie Day, and Monday night is Halloween.
If you’d like to join my Zombie Walk (a small but piquant affair) either meet us at Canberra’s civic chess pit at 4:30 or email me at fellissimo at hotmail dot com for details about when and where to get your high-quality makeup on.
Here are some zombie-related news articles to get you in the mood (and I can guarantee our pics will be far more impressive):
http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/latest/10767429/record-gathering-of-zombies-in-queensland/
http://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/-/national/10423303/police-use-zombie-day-to-test-web-page/
Steampunk weddings
Like many steampunks, I fell into the subculture because of the outfits (and stayed for the books). My own wedding had some minor steampunk characteristics – our wedding clothes were tailored by a friend of ours, and my dress had corset-style lacing added to the back. There were tophats and swords involved, too.
Other steampunks have gone all out and made amazing pictures. Here are two for your enjoyment:
http://blog.jadeandmatthew.com/?p=5862
And my friend Steff Metal:
http://offbeatbride.com/2009/10/new-zealand-halloween-wedding
Show and Tell
One of the best pieces of writing advice is “Show, don’t tell”. For a tiny example, here is telling:
Bob was sad.
And showing:
Bob swallowed hard, but the tears spilled over all the same.
The second shows character (he is trying to resist crying, and failing) and is unique to Bob. That makes it more interesting. It also draws in the reader with sensory detail (we see the tears).
The same principle applies on a much grander scale. Some examples of bad writing include:
Bob was tough. (No! Show him being tough with an entire scene. And then again whenever a situation is likely to bring out his toughness.)
Bob grew up poor. (Generally this is best shown by his actions – does he always carefully count and recount his change? Does he wear his Armani suits until they literally wear out?)
And so on.
You’ll notice “show, don’t tell” ups your word count by a huge amount (it’s very much something you fix in editing, rather than stopping every three seconds in your first draft to ask, “But HOW is he sad?”)
It IS possible, however, to show too much. It’s unlikely anyone cares exactly what colour your heroine’s hair is (you can say “mousy” instead of “brown” if you like – or leave the hair colour to the imagination), especially if you’ve just spent a paragraph each on the exact shade of her eyes and the exact shade of her dress. It’s very unlikely anyone cares about the history of the taxi driver who takes her to the airport (unless he’s integral to the plot, interesting, AND the taxi conversation shows the heroine’s character or brings up a central conflict).
Today’s article link is to Lynn Price at the Behler blog, who writes:
The biggest problem I see is authors who don’t know when and how to use show. There are plenty of times when a character can simply cross a room without it taking up five paragraphs. Same for the piece of cake. The trick is to utilize show at the right time…when the scene allows for it.
Felicity Banks 