Five Subjects Meme
Mon, Mar. 16th, 2009 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scarlettinaBack again!
Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate with you. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given. Topics courtesy of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
greyjoy:
The Publishing Biz
You realize, of course, that asking me to "elaborate on the subjects given" with regard to this particular subject is the equivalent of asking me to teach you the entirety of the Torah plus commentary standing on one foot, right? Okay, as long as we're clear on that. You're getting the Reader's Digest Condensed Edition here. With extra condensation. The Biz is very tough at the moment. Lines are being trimmed, authors are finding it harder to sell their books because the market's too tight. Personally, I think most publishers' sales expectations are way too high (and they have been for quite some time). But at this point, years away from sitting as close in to the business as I used to, that's only a semi-semi-insider's perspective. Based on most (but not all) conversations I've had with writers and editors lately, no one's comfortable and everyone's concerned.
Or did you want a more personal perspective with regard to my history vis a vis the biz? Because really, my ability to speak authoritatively on "The Biz" at this point is pretty limited. My Reader's Digest Condensed Edition on my personal history with the Biz is as follows: I loved editing; there were particular things which I disliked about the business of being an editor. I loved the relationships I developed over the years, but hated the things that threatened them. I loved finding new writers and bringing them to readers; I hated not being able to do it more than I did. I adored (and still do adore) working with art directors--no downside there. The writers, artists, editors and agents I've met through the biz are some of the most interesting, generous, and brilliant people I've ever known and I'm tremendously fortunate to have them in my life.
Elongated coins
My private little craziness. Started collecting smashed pennies when I was a kid because I was fascinated by the idea of The Lord's Prayer fitting onto a penny. About 11 years ago, I began asking questions at coin shops and one dealer pointed me to the internet, where I discovered a whole collecting community--and I was doomed. Elongated coins appeal to me as a collector for a number of reasons. The bar to entry is low, as is the price. When it comes to souvenirs, it's cheaper for me to spend 50 cents on a smashed penny than $20 on a tee shirt I'll never wear. You don't have to be an expert to collect them and still enjoy them (though I've become pretty knowledgable over the years). It's easy to specialize by subject. (My specialties are the New York and Seattle World's Fairs, fraternals, Disney, and antiques--ECs 60 years or older. And of course, whatever I collect as I travel or receive from friends as gifts.) My hobby gives my friends an excuse to play with penny-smashing machines. And as a doorway into history, they are, like most numismatica, enormously appealing. I know more now about the history of World's Fairs and exhibitions (and the politics and current events around them) than I ever did before, for example. And also? Elongated coins are tiny little works of art, at least the older ones. I'm constantly surprised.
New York
My sin and benediction. The longer I'm away, the more it's with me. This excerpt from a poem of mine sums it up pretty well:
II East
What draws me back to New York
is the whirlwind
that whips down Fifth Avenue
on blustery spring mornings
still crisp with winter's touch,
when the air smells like snow
and exhaust and chestnuts,
wind that sweeps commuters down the street
like broken leaves, bits of paper, and crushed wax cups.
There's liquor in the air
that slips down the throat
like wine turned to whiskey,
sharpens all your edges ’til
the air bleeds chutzpah,
so alive it surges with impatience
like the rock-and-stop tide of taxi traffic,
with a heartbeat like story off a rapper’s tongue,
a wide-world knowledge,
a smile, a smirk,
a take-it-for-granted attitude
with a paper under one arm and a train to catch.
This is the lightening life
that snaps me into focus,
keeps me sharp and sure,
energy that crackles along my nerves
and powers me up for another day
of riding the whirlwind
like a sharp-beaked, gold-feathered bird of prey.
I suspect my edges have softened over the years but every time I go back to the city, I feel myself sharpening up again. The training of youth dies hard, like old, ornery women, and old love.
Travel
Life is too short not to see as much of the big wide world as possible.
When I was a kid, my father and I used to sit on the family room couch and read National Geographic together. My father's interests inspired me: photography, far-away places and cultures, history. In contrast, neither my father nor my mother ever traveled off the North American continent. But he showed me pictures and read me articles about Abu Simbel, Nazca, Chichen-Itza, Luxor, Jerusalem, medieval Europe and more. I promised myself that if I could travel, I would. I wanted to see much more of the world than my parents ever did.
Now, travel is a very emotional thing for me. I am moved when I get to a place I've only ever read about or seen in pictures before. You can see a picture of the Great Pyramid, but you'll never understand its scale until you stand at its base. You can watch lions on hunt on television, but it's not as sobering or visceral as seeing three adolescent lions twenty feet away toy with prey and then, finally, break its neck. As a Jew, I've seen pictures of the Western Wall, but I never expected to actually shed tears or need to press my whole body against it the way I did when I got there. Travel changes my perspective. It keeps me from getting complacent. It helps me maintain my sense of wonder. As long as there's somewhere new to go--even if it's just the next state over from here--I don't think I'll ever truly be jaded.
Fandom
Fandom saved my sanity. I'm talking specifically about Star Trek fanzine fandom, because that's where fan-ac started for me, back in 1986. I wrote fanfic (I'm a second generation slash writer) and did fan art in a community of almost exclusively women who sort of socialized me after years of being kind of a feral child socially. By the time I found mainstream science fiction fandom, I was already a publishing professional, albeit a junior one, and it was as if I'd come home. Those were different days, when science fiction was almost a purely literary phenomenon, with the notable exceptions of two or three SF TV series (Trek, Space 1999, Lost in Space) and various cinematic successes. Today's conventions, like Norwescon, look like media cons of the past. Seems as though unless one attends a convention that's specifically about literature, media overshadows everything else. That makes a certain sense: one can absorb a television episode with less effort and less time than a book, and TV is so pervasive in our culture that it more easily creates a common frame of reference than books do. That's also because far more SF is being published now than back in the old days and it's nearly impossible for any one person to keep up with everything published.
These days, for me, the writing community is my tribe--but we all, in one way or another, came up from fandom. Our roots and support systems are there. We're lucky to have such a base of operations. It's creative and thoughtful and passionate. That's what I love about it.
Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate with you. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given. Topics courtesy of
greyjoy:The Publishing Biz
You realize, of course, that asking me to "elaborate on the subjects given" with regard to this particular subject is the equivalent of asking me to teach you the entirety of the Torah plus commentary standing on one foot, right? Okay, as long as we're clear on that. You're getting the Reader's Digest Condensed Edition here. With extra condensation. The Biz is very tough at the moment. Lines are being trimmed, authors are finding it harder to sell their books because the market's too tight. Personally, I think most publishers' sales expectations are way too high (and they have been for quite some time). But at this point, years away from sitting as close in to the business as I used to, that's only a semi-semi-insider's perspective. Based on most (but not all) conversations I've had with writers and editors lately, no one's comfortable and everyone's concerned.
Or did you want a more personal perspective with regard to my history vis a vis the biz? Because really, my ability to speak authoritatively on "The Biz" at this point is pretty limited. My Reader's Digest Condensed Edition on my personal history with the Biz is as follows: I loved editing; there were particular things which I disliked about the business of being an editor. I loved the relationships I developed over the years, but hated the things that threatened them. I loved finding new writers and bringing them to readers; I hated not being able to do it more than I did. I adored (and still do adore) working with art directors--no downside there. The writers, artists, editors and agents I've met through the biz are some of the most interesting, generous, and brilliant people I've ever known and I'm tremendously fortunate to have them in my life.
Elongated coins
My private little craziness. Started collecting smashed pennies when I was a kid because I was fascinated by the idea of The Lord's Prayer fitting onto a penny. About 11 years ago, I began asking questions at coin shops and one dealer pointed me to the internet, where I discovered a whole collecting community--and I was doomed. Elongated coins appeal to me as a collector for a number of reasons. The bar to entry is low, as is the price. When it comes to souvenirs, it's cheaper for me to spend 50 cents on a smashed penny than $20 on a tee shirt I'll never wear. You don't have to be an expert to collect them and still enjoy them (though I've become pretty knowledgable over the years). It's easy to specialize by subject. (My specialties are the New York and Seattle World's Fairs, fraternals, Disney, and antiques--ECs 60 years or older. And of course, whatever I collect as I travel or receive from friends as gifts.) My hobby gives my friends an excuse to play with penny-smashing machines. And as a doorway into history, they are, like most numismatica, enormously appealing. I know more now about the history of World's Fairs and exhibitions (and the politics and current events around them) than I ever did before, for example. And also? Elongated coins are tiny little works of art, at least the older ones. I'm constantly surprised.
New York
My sin and benediction. The longer I'm away, the more it's with me. This excerpt from a poem of mine sums it up pretty well:
II East
What draws me back to New York
is the whirlwind
that whips down Fifth Avenue
on blustery spring mornings
still crisp with winter's touch,
when the air smells like snow
and exhaust and chestnuts,
wind that sweeps commuters down the street
like broken leaves, bits of paper, and crushed wax cups.
There's liquor in the air
that slips down the throat
like wine turned to whiskey,
sharpens all your edges ’til
the air bleeds chutzpah,
so alive it surges with impatience
like the rock-and-stop tide of taxi traffic,
with a heartbeat like story off a rapper’s tongue,
a wide-world knowledge,
a smile, a smirk,
a take-it-for-granted attitude
with a paper under one arm and a train to catch.
This is the lightening life
that snaps me into focus,
keeps me sharp and sure,
energy that crackles along my nerves
and powers me up for another day
of riding the whirlwind
like a sharp-beaked, gold-feathered bird of prey.
I suspect my edges have softened over the years but every time I go back to the city, I feel myself sharpening up again. The training of youth dies hard, like old, ornery women, and old love.
Travel
Life is too short not to see as much of the big wide world as possible.
When I was a kid, my father and I used to sit on the family room couch and read National Geographic together. My father's interests inspired me: photography, far-away places and cultures, history. In contrast, neither my father nor my mother ever traveled off the North American continent. But he showed me pictures and read me articles about Abu Simbel, Nazca, Chichen-Itza, Luxor, Jerusalem, medieval Europe and more. I promised myself that if I could travel, I would. I wanted to see much more of the world than my parents ever did.
Now, travel is a very emotional thing for me. I am moved when I get to a place I've only ever read about or seen in pictures before. You can see a picture of the Great Pyramid, but you'll never understand its scale until you stand at its base. You can watch lions on hunt on television, but it's not as sobering or visceral as seeing three adolescent lions twenty feet away toy with prey and then, finally, break its neck. As a Jew, I've seen pictures of the Western Wall, but I never expected to actually shed tears or need to press my whole body against it the way I did when I got there. Travel changes my perspective. It keeps me from getting complacent. It helps me maintain my sense of wonder. As long as there's somewhere new to go--even if it's just the next state over from here--I don't think I'll ever truly be jaded.
Fandom
Fandom saved my sanity. I'm talking specifically about Star Trek fanzine fandom, because that's where fan-ac started for me, back in 1986. I wrote fanfic (I'm a second generation slash writer) and did fan art in a community of almost exclusively women who sort of socialized me after years of being kind of a feral child socially. By the time I found mainstream science fiction fandom, I was already a publishing professional, albeit a junior one, and it was as if I'd come home. Those were different days, when science fiction was almost a purely literary phenomenon, with the notable exceptions of two or three SF TV series (Trek, Space 1999, Lost in Space) and various cinematic successes. Today's conventions, like Norwescon, look like media cons of the past. Seems as though unless one attends a convention that's specifically about literature, media overshadows everything else. That makes a certain sense: one can absorb a television episode with less effort and less time than a book, and TV is so pervasive in our culture that it more easily creates a common frame of reference than books do. That's also because far more SF is being published now than back in the old days and it's nearly impossible for any one person to keep up with everything published.
These days, for me, the writing community is my tribe--but we all, in one way or another, came up from fandom. Our roots and support systems are there. We're lucky to have such a base of operations. It's creative and thoughtful and passionate. That's what I love about it.