Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
Neil--all I did was wave _Neverwhere_ under her nose.  "It's about
London," I said, "and you'll like it."  She loves London, she took my
bait.  You did all of the work.  She is now rabid and refuses to return
my copies of _Neverwhere_ and _Good Omens_.  I made her buy everything
else, because I am a good friend and don't want to have to harm her. 
But thanks. That is good information to know, re: DC--I shall pass it
on to her...this may help repair our friendship after you came to
Lexington and not DC (we went to college in Lexington).  

And, yes, there's a mildly disconcerting wall of TV screens as you
come in to the Club, all playing different stations.  I worked will
call for a Christmas Party right under/beside them, and found myself
staring at the screens, glassy-eyed, instead of demanding photo i.d.'s.
 Media...

Regarding Making Stuff, I find that I do a half gestation/half
archaeology bit, with a touch of oversleep on the side.  Oversleep
always dredges up the good muck.  I'd liken it to putting a pot on the
back burner, and letting it grow some kind of sinister and opulent
mold.  That's the visual stuff, anyway.  

But for years, in my writing, I've had some kind of
character-generation block, as though I'm afraid to be responsible for
them, or that I might handle them improperly, and ruin them.  I've been
restricted to non-fiction, essays, poetry--but all descriptive, for
want of a better word (it's late and I'm feeling muzzy).  Not that
there's anything wrong with that, but all the while I've been
positively drooling to be able to write made-up people, make
fiction...and a few weeks ago, two characters finally dropped in--a
miniaturist and a miniature potter (no, no, she _throws_ little bitty
pots, she isn't little bitty herself).  People! I stand in amazement of
them. I feel as though I've had children.  Right now I'm just watching
them run around, sort of savoring the sight of them, before I actually
write anything.  I'm taking notes on them.  Is that how it's done? 
They make me feel giddy.
I'm sorry.  I'm running on and I think I sound a little like a sad bar
patron in the sad night hours.  I blame the medication, and think I'll
go to bed.  
  

    
Rebecca -- Keep us posted; as a D.C. resident I may have to see if I
can get some press credentials... ^^
  

    
Ah, my NPC connection said (between cyber jumpings-for-joy):

>you can let mr. gaiman know that no we no longer have the tv when
>you walk in.  we've moved all of that upstairs to the bar.

So perhaps there was another tv thingey before the wall-of-media they
have now.

She is passing on the info to the person-who-sets-up-book-events, who
is the other infected individual, who will also jump for joy.
I hate to say it, but I hope it takes long enough for me to get well
and move there...I'll try to speed it up.
Dan Guy, I didn't know you lived in DC, we'll be neighbors!
  

    
I’m just back from Yosemite/being sick, so I’m catching up.  Please
pardon the longishness.

JaNell/Neil: Actually, Jane Yolen has something very _AG_ to say on
the subject of Neil and trickishness.  See her official website at:
http://www.janeyolen.com/janefriends.html

JaNell: Thanks for the Thunderbird egg shards info.  Did it mention
anything about people climbing the nest for that specific purpose?  Or
just imply that the shards fell by themselves?

(Also, your life is more difficult than Shadow’s?  Are you okay?  Can
we send you virtual chocolate or something?)

DanGuy/JaNell/Will/Neil: On art and lying, here’s one of my favorite
quotes of all time:

“Art is a lie that tells the truth.”  -Pablo Picasso

I love it; it’s so human.  I’m still not sure I understand it.

Len: Whenever I meet musical creative teams, I always have to ask the
chicken/egg question.  (Don’t hate me.)  I don’t know why, but it’s
irresistible to me.  So, which comes first: the music or the lyrics?

On bicycles?  That’s great!  It’s so original.  I’m fascinated by that
switch in the brain.  Einstein had his showers; half the writers of
the world seem to have walked for inspiration; Spielberg allegedly gets
his while driving.  (This in itself is fascinating to me: I found it
hard to believe that he still drove himself anywhere.)  Alpha (gamma?)
waves or whatever, it’s demonstrably real.

Water seems to work for me.  My husband says that if I ever get
blocked (and subsequently peevish), he’ll deposit me directly in the
shower, clothes and all.  That way he accomplishes both assistance and
retribution.

Martha: I like your carpenter analogy.  My husband is a fan of
Japanese carpentry.  They have the graceful concept that each piece of
wood has its own “suchness.”  I don’t know whether you’re supposed to
know what this is before you begin, after Zen meditation or something,
or it reveals itself along the way.  Maybe that’s the difference
experience makes.  My husband can tell the difference between some
woods with his eyes closed, just by touching them, and he knows what
each type is capable of or not.

I don’t know what I’m saying here, except that it seems sort of
magical.  Whether it’s a function of practical knowledge or something
more spiritual, I just like the relational quality of the theory.

Rebecca: I adore the idea of oversleeping for creative juicing.  How
fabulous of you to provide me with an excuse!

And there you go again with gorgeous words: 

>putting a pot on the back burner, and letting it grow some kind of
>sinister and opulent mold.

I’ve been decaffeinated for a couple of years, now, and this is
_exactly_ what happens to decaf coffee in most diners by the time you
order it!

Bright blessings on your brand new creative progeny.  I like them very
much already. 
  

    
Pamela - I looked for the getting into the thunderbird nest stuff, but
haven't found it... 
love the quote... 
need to read Jane Yolen, I guess, since I love Charles de Lint's
stuff... great user of NA mythology.
and yes, too many long term big time adult stuff things are wearing me
down.
  

    
JaNell --
http://64.12.34.100/frames/frames.asp?page=artists_music/default.asp?artistID=
20
 has the Real Audio of Tori singing STRANGE LITTLE GIRLS  -- and good
luck, and hang in there, and hugs.

Rebecca -- yup, the TV used to be there by the door... the last time I
was there. They applauded me for the correct pronounciation of my
name, and then they gave me an award.

Pamela -- I thought that was Susan Sonntag's definition of Camp. Oh
well, they're both right.

When I get stuck, the best thing I can do is get bored. Dull theatre
is really good.
  

    
Neil - Re: "Strange Little Girls" - see Topic 115, #745 - but maybe
you were sharing with everyone else?
I am hanging in there, but I've been hanging in so long that I'm
wondering where the people who were supposed to relieve me went... if
any of y'all find these people, rough 'em up for me and tell 'em to get
their hineys back here, I'm tired. And bored. Here, Neil, have some of
my boredom. Please.

My real question is, am I really wise to accept Luck from an
incarnation of Loki? Or even hugs? 
  

    
Neil - dull theatre is good for inspiring you?? Ack! May I never
inspire you.
  

    
Dan - I can just imagine the depths of inspiration I provide Neil...
  

    
>They applauded me for the correct pronounciation of my
>name, and then they gave me an award.
They seem to excel at those sorts of things.
  

    <scribbled>
  

    

I love the thought of a proverb: "May you never inspire Neil Gaiman."
Just saying.
  

    
Like I said, should I really *want* hugs and luck from NeiLoki? 

I already live in "interesting times"...
  

    
JaNell--Hang in there, girl.  It's always darkest before the chocolate
kicks in.  Seriously, e-hugs from me!

Re: Jane Yolen.  The White Jenna books might be the best place to
start (_The Great Books of Alta_).  But I have to admit that my
favorite Yolen I ever read was a short story I saw in Datlow/Windling's
_Year's Best_ 1998, called _Become a Warrior_.  It's distilled, 100
proof Yolen.

Neil: Damn.  This is one of those times when I *almost* wish I'd stood
in the middle of the country and moved right, instead of left.  I have
the feeling that if I lived in New Yawk, I'd know if you were making a
joke or not.  Ah, well.  At any rate, I did check the Picasso
attribution online, briefly, but apparently this one could belong to
Picasso, Sontag or some guy named Philip Core.  I will now search out
"Notes on Camp" for further edification.

Apropos of shiny new quote acquisitions, I kinda like this
juxtaposition:

"And mysteries linger in ways that explanations never can."
-Neil Gaiman (inkwell.vue)

"Interpretation is the revenge of the intellect upon art."
-Susan Sontag, 

        
  

    
JaNell -- you're right, I had forgotten that you're heard it, and just
remembered you saying you hadn't. What's odd is I must have read that
e-mail, as I couldn't find a definition anywhere for cinchy. What does
it mean?

Dan -- it's awful but true. There's nothing like being stuck in a dark
room watching actors not doing something very well, to get my mind
drifting off onto something else.

jaNell -- oh, okay, Scrap the hugs then.

Pamela -- I don't think I was making a joke. Usually, they're funny if
I am.  Honest.
  

    <scribbled>
  

    
Now THIS I found funny, in all sorts of wonderful ways...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/silly/story/0,10821,532104,00.html
  

    
That's a big house the mole man has.
  

    
<waving at Neil>

You asked a while back what cinchy means....leaping into a
conversation, I'll say that the only meaning I know of the word is to
describe a horse who dislikes having the saddle girth (also called a
cinch) tightened.  The reaction of a cinchy horse can be anything from
a glare on up to actual biting and kicking.
  

    
Beth -- what a wonderful word. Thank you...
  

    
Neil - You're thanking Beth? I'm the one who gave you the word...
don't I get acknowledgement from you for *anything* I give you?

And no more hugs - did I say I didn't want hugs? 
I was offering you a chance to convince me that hugs and luck from you
are good things...

Ouch-Ouch-Ouch
  

    
JaNell -- ah, but I was waiting for you to say "But in Tennessee,
Cinchy means..."

Okay. Unscrap & restore the scrapped hugs.
  

    
NeiLoki-
Nice try at a save. Admit it, you've once again lumped me into the
crowd...
And I said "convince me".
Men.
Always assuming you want their stinky boy hugs.
And that they know you at all.

Anyhow, this is all because I couldn't spell at the time, or my
subconcious was working overtime...
I *meant* to say "chintzy", meaning stingy...
But "cinchy" fits well, too.


Aren't we supposed to be talking about a book or something here?
  

    
JaNell -- Small figure looks up from the marsh and croaks: "There is
hug. There is not hug. There is no convince."
...

I just posted a blogger about a review of the AMERICAN GODS  blogger
in Entertainment Weekly, which is the kind of blogger entry I swore I'd
never write, because discussing the media reaction to the journal in
the journal seems like it's in danger of vanishing up its own bottom in
a puff of smoke.

But I honestly found it odd that I'd look at a page and not recognise
-- actually not SEE -- a photo of me.
  

    <scribbled by jonl Sun 5 Aug 01 13:09>