Title: The Cat's Pajamas Source: www.thegoosesroost.com
I won an editorial critique on Twitter this summer. Yayyy!!! My two favourite sentences in the critique of my novel, Papillon: "The family histories, which span generations, have an inherently epic feel reminiscent of 100 YEARS OF SOLITUDE." "I’m certain if and when you sell it, there will be a readership just clamoring to get their hands on it!" What Rhoda Belleza, the editor who provided the critique, didn't know is that 100 Years of Solitude is possibly my favourite novel of all time. No doubt Garcia Marquez has hugely influenced my writing, but reminiscent...well, that's just the cat's pajamas! Her full critique was so inspiring & spot on in the areas that required a nudge. Belleza also posted a great article on THE PROCESS OF PLOTTING which I heartily recommend to fellow writers. #amwriting #amrewriting Dina
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Love this painting I came across on Facebook! I imagine: * that those birds chirping & singing from the roots are my parents, my ancestors. * that from them, from the earth, my vibrant roots sing, with smiles in their voices and hidden wings that make me feel free, even when society tries to stomp on my dreams. Brought to mind an old Cummings poem. It's as if the words are heart-wide-open capturing my emotions: [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] BY E. E. CUMMINGS i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) What I take from this: Society's lures--consumerism, greed, and especially prestige—are powerful magnets that can warp our beliefs about what we truly enjoy. They may cause us to work not on what we love, but on what we wish we loved. My wish if that more of us will begin to listen to our hearts. Society may want us to lose touch with our magical (s)elves, but we can choose to open up, lighten up and let go of our egos. Society's lures may thrive when we build up our egos, but its a steep price to pay: The decline of community & culture & creativity & most of all, our passionate hearts. Have a great weekend all, May you listen & follow your passions, TartanFrog, aka Dina by ~missdanger Photography / Street Dear Prime Minister Harper Two years ago, on New Year's Eve, I blogged my very first New Year's wish. I wrote about my own life, of how many mornings I looked up at the sky & my view of possibilities & dreams was obstructed by those little cages I'd created or 'inherited'. I knew (intellectually) that letting those cages go was the greatest gift anyone, could give the world. And yet, so far all I'd managed (emotionally) was to identify a few key cage-dwellers and to keep a stern eye on them as they floated around. READ THE REST OF THE LETTER HERE Nini, from France. Photo: Jean-Daniel Sudres/Hemis/Corbis Get a group of writers together, and sooner or later, a story emerges (& laughter) about how most of us go through periods of writing bullshit. Why not wait for that exquisite gem of inspiration? (you ask) Well, for some of us 'the one' might not happen without 'the other'. No bullshit; no gems. Call us truffle hunters: We sniff through bullshit in order to arrive at a meaningful thread that hangs a whole thesis or poem, a novel, or I'd even argue, a community together. If you're starting out & hoping to avoid those many (wasted?) hours. . . Read my TOP 3 WAYS to cut through crap (which works 1/4 of the time:) A wonderful editor reminded me this weekend that I shouldn't limit myself to thinking I'm writing for a smaller audience who will understand my mythology. WRITE FOR THE WHOLE WORLD! The learning came about due to a simile I'd written about 'sinking boats and fisherman' lore. I'm a fisherman's daughter. Lesson learned: Pay closer attention in my writing (and my life) to my assumptions about mythologies and history. They may not be shared or understood by everyone. The good news: I have10 days (okay 9 now) to revise my novel to incorporate that feedback and invite EVERYONE into the world of PAPILLON. Did I mention I was moving in 10 days???? This makes me only slightly more batty than usual. Happy Monday Writerlies & Friends, TartanFrog UPDATE: MADE IT TO THE NEXT ROUND! WOO-HOO!!! Let this serve as a reminder to myself that my holidays are over and it's time to renew my commitment to writing. Fortunately, according to one of my new profs, becoming a better copy editor & preparing to write the Editors' Association exams will make me a better writer of my own material... To the writerlies: Now that I'm officially in the copy editing course and have my final schedule, I'll be sending out a new schedule for our 2012 meetings this weekend. Cheers, TartanFrog Artist: Nathan Bray It's quite possibly a mid-life crisis, but less than 24 hours ago I sent a message to my closest friends asking them: Could you simply send me an e-mail and let me know: If you HAD to choose an object that reminds you of me - What would that object be??? Well the answers came pouring into my in-box invigorating me with their warmth, and wisdom, and even a bit of psychic nature to some of them. One answer, however, made me pause: "This, darling Dina, is a difficult question because you are such an airy spirit that I remember you typically in the door with a bewildered expression and a dramatic gesture raising a question that will keep everybody's mind happily employed for at least until supper. With gestures and mimics like that and ideas popping up in lush multitude, this distracts a lot from what you might have been carrying in your bag at any particular day. I think there are few people that I have gotten to know in this life that love ideas so much and care for things so little as you. . . " Although the loving ideas part is no doubt true & paramount, the beginning of that answer surprised me because I am very attached to those things that are somehow connected to those I love. And very finicky about them: Ode to my Barcelona Teapot I used to have a beautiful large teapot (you guessed it, I bought it in Barcelona). It was wide on the bottom and very heavy, but it felt so right and reminded me of you, and also of my friend Heather and of Kathy Mac. Whenever I'd make a pot of tea in that teapot it felt as if I were summoning you all to my imaginary table. I broke that teapot about ten years ago and haven't been able to replace it. I keep hoping that the right teapot will find me. I poke around whenever I'm on a holiday - I know it's hiding, somewhere, waiting . . . Someone gave me a teapot, but it's not THE ONE - they didn't know me well enough. It may sound ungrateful, but it's true: A teapot may be an object, but once it's been shared with close friends it begins to emit mysterious past conversations as aroma shadows whenever another conversation begins. Without even being conscious of them, those past conversations encourage us to link and connect ideas from those previous conversations and build upon their wisdom. I believe this cross-pollination of ideas is a harvest made possible by the presence of the simple teapot. The teapot may be physical, but it creates a hospitable space that reminds me of kitchen table wisdom - very distinct from my usual conversations which center around coffee and command intellectual dexterity. And now, since neither THE teapot nor my wisest women goddess friends are here at the moment - I shall, a traitor, fall back on my trusted coffee. Have a great weekend all, TartanFrog This is your new blog post. 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The sun's out & I'm not recommending any Haligonian events for you! Instead, the following activity can be done anywhere: - bask in the freedom of a lazy Saturday or Sunday (if you can); - embark on long contemplations about those loved ones who have inspired you. I've been scrutinizing my motivations for writing novel # 2. It's about "an ordinary woman from Cape Breton, who, for a brief moment in time, believed she was meant for an extraordinary life". I believe we're all guilty, at one time or another, of wasting precious time on the ordinary when we could be living extraordinary, and that doesn't have to mean living an ECTOPLASM OF HYSTERIA... ...it can simply mean looking at what others may think is ordinary and seeing the absolute beauty and extraordinary in it. Every day, the extraordinary is all around us -- disguised as ordinary. When we take time to notice it, ordinary begins to shine, sprouts wings and launch into the air, radiating energy and joy with each flap. Miracles happen. This was the gift I received from my parents and one I offer freely to you. In honour of this gift from my parents I wrote to one of my extraordinary friends to remind her of that extraordinariness: Dear Beloved Friend, Of course next summer would be wonderful, but if we went twenty or thirty years without seeing one another, our bond of friendship would still not retire in my heart. And we will again sit together sipping wine on a lazy afternoon (where I promise there will be no flying monsters) wearing orange pants and solving the world's then unanswered philosophical questions. We will talk about your children's children and what wonderful and meaningful life paths they have chosen. How liberating those days of orange pants (and, in my case, the leapard tights) were for me. I will never forget those days... They may have been brief, but they were (don't mind the cliche) they were golden. These deep friendships are dear in this life. Thank you for your e-mail [name withheld]. I hope that besides the extra pounds (which, btw, I've also packed on since I quit smoking) you are well. Besides, in my heart, you are as radiant and as beautiful as ever!! As for me, it was a challenging winter - I felt overwhelmed much of the time and also missed my Mom who passed away last summer. I also found myself squaring off with that Scorpion rising in me which you so perceptively identified. Another dear friend who you met I think, Stephanie (a Sun Scorpio) sent me a newsletter that said everything we're repressing and refusing to express is seeping through the floor boards of consciousness and that we're bound to be more beastly than princely during these times. That's Scorpio for you! There's a quote by Goethe that I love and for some reason, I'm thinking of it today as I write to you, because it highlights the power of magic present in these times, across oceans, as providence moves to bring us together, simply because we both believe in the bold genius, power & magic of our dream to reunite: "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe I send you all my love. I hope you are feeling immense joy in the company of your beautiful family. Wishing you all the magic the other side can muster....Dina Some mornings, I look up at the sky & my view of possibilities & dreams is obstructed by these little cages I've created or 'inherited'. Floating Cages by ~missdanger Photography / Street I know that letting those damn cages go is the greatest gift we can all give the world. And yet, so far all I've managed is to identify a few key cage-dwellers and keep track of them as they float around. What I need is a good old Cheticamp suete!! Imagine 2011 as a world where everyone let go of their old baggage, the limiting beliefs, childhood conditioning, judgments & resentments. Imagine the connections & synergies between people & communities. Letting go involves starting fresh in the present moment. Innocent little line!! That sentence could scare the pants off anyone. I'll be the first to admit that I've held onto problems, unhealthy situations, and outworn roles and relationships because I felt safe in their familiarity. Here's what I'm thinking. I'm gonna start this thing bit by bit. So it's not the most ORIGINAL resolution conjured, so what? It's mine! I'm gonna start paying more attention to where I resist & where I struggle, and then I'm gonna try to nudge those cages away...I'll start with three particularly pesky cages: ♦ The cage of habits that interfere with writing. ♦ The cage of obsessive thinking & analysing. [Now this should be a good one for me!!] ♦ The cage of old stories & roles & beliefs. [Everyone knows how much I love stories, but...] What I'm referring to here are the stories that limit the depth and expansiveness of who we are past roles and stories. I read somewhere that you could imagine taking the old stories and roles off like pieces of clothing & then stepping away from them & leaving the room. My wish to each of you - May you tune into who you are without your stories. Dig deep to find those core limiting beliefs that are not your highest truth and release them. May 2011 be the year you share your true self with the world!! TartanFrog "perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy" --author unknown As the holidays encroach, I'll be going on hiatus from my blog to gather more silence to feel my parents' love pouring through and shining down upon our family. I'll sign off with an excerpt of Andre Narbonne's story 'All Over', published in the Antigonish Review (Summer 2010 edition): "Between supper and bed is cards. Jimmy is my partner. He's a consummate joker. When I bid he says, "Fill your boots." When we win he says, "Good boy yourself." But it's Chloe who keeps holding up the play with her absurd table talk. She never passes, always passes "for now". . . . . . I try to change the subject on myself by asking Therese about the church. It's so large it could stand as a beacon for ships at sea and probably does. "Oh, yes," she says, "it's the biggest church in Cape Breton." "Then why the name?" "Petite Eglise? Oh, that, well, it's an old name. The church is newer." "That's the problem with labels," says Chloe who would have been a hippy twenty years ago and is now a free spirit. "They're more permanent than the things they describe. Pass for now." . . . . . .Jimmy will drive us to the train. I think Chloe should sit in the front with him. I haven't heard them exchange a word all weekend. It's not that she's forgotten him, but there's something breaking in her too. I realize that now. She is beginning to grasp the obvious. She and Jimmy were always very close, hence the rebellion and now the silence. They haven't spoken because they cannot." Parting note: Though I will miss both my parents dearly, I will always remain so grateful for their holiday gifts - by keeping the magic they instilled in me alive, it is my hope that they will live on forever... Thanks Mom & Dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy Holidays All, Tartan Frog |
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