So – I decided that this is a necessary page as some of what I write needs explanation/tends to have bits and pieces inspired or freely given by others who I want to credit for that. I think I’m just going to do the prose pieces for now, but maybe jump into the poetry later if I feel like explanation would be acceptable (I like to let poetry speak for itself/let others interpret it how they will – sometimes hearing another’s interpretation has even helped me form a clearer definition of what I was saying while writing the poem).
Most recent first:
“[untitled]first chapter of work in progress/my second workshop piece for fiction”: find it here.
I was looking at a collection of vintage photographs from the LiveJournal vintage photo community, and there were quite a few that made me want to write something but these two, in particular, stood out and I chose them as my inspiration:
The second one is of course Marilyn Monroe, and Marilyn, especially as she is depicted in this picture, is a pretty good representation for Topaz. The other picture is obviously the inspiration for the sisters. Again, I don’t know where this is going, but I’m having fun with it. Again, using my own experiences in this a bit — I suffered a pretty bad sunburn or two when I was in Italy this summer, and one was a little bit more intense than it really needed to be because I fell asleep on the beach for about half an hour.
Anyway – I’m curious to keep writing on this and see where it goes. I have a feeling it’s going to end up pretty long.
“Other Tea Haikus”: find it here.
I jumped around and squeaked with happiness like a little kid in an ice-cream truck when I realized I hadn’t posted these yet. The tea haikus are, quite literally, my favorite out of everything I have ever written. Ever. I wrote these last semester (spring ‘07) when I was putting together a final portfolio for my poetry workshop, came across “Love/Tea”:
Passion bleeds (drops of
steaming, swirling hibiscus)
Red (in a teacup)
…. and decided I needed to write more things like that. So, I brewed a few different cups of tea and the winners were Numi Honeybush (Numi Haiku) and Celestial Seasonings Tummy Mint tea with half a lemon squeezed in (Waiting by the Fire). I think there are going to be a lot of tea haikus in my future…
“Unit Thirteen-A (aka the finished product of that once in-progress piece)”: find it here.
So, I still have no idea where this came from. But I like it. I have to stop being lazy and add it in the edits I made after reading my classmates’ input though, and I promise to do so soon. Obviously I figured out a lot of the things I had no idea about when this was just in-progress. Her name did, in fact, turn out to be Helena. I figured out where she was going after her bath of course, the fact that she definitely DID see her intoxicated benefactor again, and that maybe she’s a little bit fuzzy in the head. I think it’s probably not truly ‘finished’, because I can see myself reworking it over and over again for a very long time until I’m satisfied. But for now, ‘finished’ works.
“In-class assignments: point of view change (based on the in-progress piece)”: find it here.
We took nearly an entire class to talk about/write about the many, many different points of view, and then this exercise using different points of view happened. I think the one with Helena telling it directly might have worked, but the one I used in the actual story worked best.
“Assignment from fiction – a letter home based on a photograph” (untitled) : find it here.
The title explains a lot – during my Beginning Fiction class we were told to bring in books of photography for the next week. I trotted over to the Mills library, photography section, and picked out a book of dance photography which I then brought in to class where we were told to open the book to a random picture and write a letter home based on where the picture was taken. She later said that it should have been by a character in the story we were currently working on, but that wasn’t made clear at the beginning and most of us didn’t do that… ANYWAY – I chose this picture (click for bigger):
and ended up being alllllllllllllllllll kinds of thrilled because I could easily write about this. I used to dance. In fact I spent a very large portion of my childhood and teenagedom in studios and on stages. Now, I exaggerated a bit. You don’t have to be flat broke for your legwarmers and slippers to look like this. We would wear things until they were absolutely 100% falling off of your feet flapping in the wind when you danced until an instructor might finally get annoyed and request that for heaven’s sake you need to get new shoes. I don’t think I actually ever ducttaped anything.. .but I may have come close.
I imagined that the girl who was writing this letter to her sister escaped a small town somewhat like the one I grew up in to go pursue a dream as a prima ballerina in the big city (I don’t know what city I had in mind – definitely not San Francisco, as I had her say that the city isn’t pretty. San Francisco is beautiful. Maybe she’s in New York). I imagine she’s dancer by day, waitress by night/whenever she’s not dancing to support herself. And waitressing sucks. It would be a good reason for her to say that she’s miserable.
The toenails were not a joke. Pointe shoes really do make your toenails fall off (so if anyone ever feels like calling ballet a pussy sport again, or says that it’s not even a sport – just think about your toenails falling off. Might change your perspective).
But she loves it. In spite of the sucky job and lack of toenails and everyone that she loves being a million miles away – what she says is true. Ballet is anti-gravity, and that feeling is AMAZING.
“Fiction assignment, in progress (also untitled)” – find it here:
Part of me has no.freaking.idea. where this came from. I had to write something for fiction…this sprang out of something my friend Rachel said (the first line of the story is something she said in conversation that I thought was brilliant and wanted to use, though I added the ‘bah chicka wah wah’: “Everything was silent with the exception of the crickets outside and the “bah chicka wah wah” background music of the pornography on the television.” Thank you Rachie), into…well, what it is.
A lot of it is me. Were I to pack up and leave, my bag definitely would consist entirely of tea, journals, clothes, and toiletries, and I probably would go to San Francisco. The man who finds her a job recites an Emily Dickinson poem because I love Emily Dickinson and could, for some reason, picture this man drunk, waxing philosophical, and spouting out something along the lines of “Love is Anterior to Life, Posterior to Death, Initial of Creation, and the Exponent of Breath” (I’m not messed up as far as capitalization goes, that’s how Miss Dickinson herself chose to capitalize, I promise). I love rye bread, so if I were making fried eggs and toast, the toast would most likely be rye. I would definitely choose an apartment for a beautiful old bathtub. The last bath I took was, indeed, in green tea bath salts, and I sometimes share my unnamed character’s skepticism about the very idea of bathing itself. So, yes, a lot of it is me. but for the most part, I’ve no idea where this came from or where it’s going. I don’t know what’s going to happen once she’s in the bathtub, or once she’s finished her bath and continues on. I don’t know what’s happening with her job. I don’t know whether or not she’ll ever see her intoxicated benefactor again. I don’t even know her name (Helena, maybe). We’ll see.
