finally

Tesfa’s patience and memory have finally stretched out enough that we can read chapter books. So far, we’ve gotten through:

We’ve attempted, but not succeeded with:

with the lack of success likely due to pictures more infrequent than in the books with which we have succeeded (Tesfa colours next to me while I read with instructions that I inform her when a page has a picture on it).

After we finish Jacob Two-Two, I’m going to try The Secret World of Og by Pierre Burton because we’re Canadian there are pictures on every page so it may keep her attention better. I’m trying Ramona after that.

I look at the books I’m picking and I’m struck by one, very obvious, fact: these are the same books I read when I was a kid and while most are classics, some haven’t aged that well. The female rats of the Rats of Nimh aren’t encouraged to do anything other than raise families and don’t attend meetings about The Plan. In Matilda and Sideways Stories, people are really rude, calling each other stupid and idiot, etc. There’s a few spots of very mild racism in Roald Dahl books. The illustrations in Jacob Two Two are seventies-tastic with bell-bottoms and sideburns and maybe that book speaks less to Tesfa than it did to my mother who read it to us obsessively when we were Canadians in London, UK as Mordechai Richler was when he wrote it. Still, when the option is these books or the Berenstein Bears book we mistakenly let Tesfa choose at the Costco over the Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things that Go where you have to find Goldbug on every single page which is awesome, I’m going to pick the classics.

But I’m still looking for newer chapter books and all I find are books clearly too old for Tesfa because of the requirement of pictures on at least every other page:

Chapters recommends something called Ivy and Bean to me. Is Encyclopedia Brown still around? That’s probably too old for her too. Otherwise Known as Sheila The Great? From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs Basil E. Frankenweiler? And I’m back to books I read when I was a kid.

Maybe I’m stuck with the Berenstein Bears for a while yet.

memories

I steal from real life to put in stories.

We were supposed to make s’mores, but it rained and we never lit a fire and then we came back home from where we were, so we ended up with a bag of milk chocolate chips. We normally buy bittersweet, but we didn’t look at the bag that closely in the Co-op I suppose. A few days after being home, Geoff opened the bag just to eat a few milk chocolate chips. Then I ate a few milk chocolate chips.

I don’t like eating milk chocolate chips by themselves. Whenever I do, it reminds me of someone mocking my weight, mocking my personality, mocking my potential – the exact words “You’ll never have anyone love you if you keep eating junk like that.”

Except I wasn’t eating milk chocolate chips when this happened. I was eating a mint chocolate bar. I don’t know why milk overtook mint in my memory, but it has an even knowing that the memory trigger is wrong does nothing about it.

You remember things that never happened. I’m tired of it, someone says.

Maybe all I’m doing is stealing from my imagination then.

when copy-readers and typesetters are not scientists

I am reading a book. One of the characters studied physics, which makes me wonder about him, but his focus is astronomy, which is a useless as my pure math degrees, so I warmed to him somewhat.

So character (his name is Nick) thinks about math. Nick thinks about equations. The author decides to write these equations out for us, and we get

z(r) = sqrt(R3/2M)[sqrt(1-(1-(2Mr2/R3)))] for r <=R

Perhaps one is thinking that I do not have $latex \LaTeX$ installed in wordpress and am typing out what the math should be. All that is wrong. Of course I have $latex \LaTeX$ installed with wordpress. In fact, $latex \LaTeX$ comes pre-installed with more versions of wordpress. Secondly, I would have put the slashes, underbars, carots, etc, probably a text box for the for. No, this is, verbatim, what was written on the page, assuming I transcribed the brackets correctly.

Maybe Nick thinks in $latex \LaTeX$-esque thoughts? The book is set in the early eighties, so we’ll reduce that to TeX thoughts? But he isn’t attached to a university, so is that likely? Moreover, in thinking, would someone think sqrt instead of $latex \sqrt{\,}$? I wouldn’t.

So I come to the conclusion that the typesetter and the copy-readers don’t really know how equations work, how equation-thinking people think of equations. I assume this is a real astronomy equation. I assume that the author copied it down from a textbook or paper, where it was written, I assume as:

$latex z(r) = \displaystyle \left(\sqrt{\frac{R^3}{2M}}\right)\left(\sqrt{1-\left(1-\frac{2Mr^2}{R^3}\right)}\right) \text{ for } r \le R.$

Perhaps not exactly that (I haven’t taken physics since high school, a class in which a ninety percent of our work was determining what a Newton scale would read while it held a variety of weights while going up and down at certain speeds on an elevator) but something similar. But I cannot imagine that the author found an equation written as it ended up in her book in a scientific setting. Instead, somehow, via editors and typesetters and copy-readers, we got from the second equation to the first one, probably either under the assumption that the first is more palatable for a non-science audience or via a typesetter who had never seen how to typeset mathematics before.

Either way, this made me unhappy or angry or something in between.

July 2013

I read the following books:

Best book: Sorry Please Thank You. If I could write sci-fi that was better than sci-fi like Charles Yu does, I would. I am jealous, which was my overwhelming feeling for most of the month anyway.

I watched:

  • Mad Men: but then I stopped somewhere in Season 4 during the first week of July and haven’t gone back.
  • My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic: with Tesfa
  • Orange is the New Black: One of the few times when the adaptation is better than the book. I started watching the show, then I read the book, and the show is so much more nuanced and funny, neither of which was the goal of the book, so I suppose this is like comparing apples to screwdrivers.
  • The Secret of Nimh: Almost the exact opposite of Orange is the New Black, an adaptation so poorly done that the entire experience is cringing while remembering how much better (and with no bizarre paranormal stone-of-levitation) the book was. At least having watched the film, Tesfa is now sitting down with me while we read the book together.
  • Sandbaggers
  • How I Met Your Mother: On in the background while I replaced all the brass-with-big-white-bulb-in-the-center kitchen cabinets with basic, skinny, black ones.

I wrote: Worked on faerie story. Wow. That is all I did this month.

And I joined an online writing group too, which should help keep me more on track.

July’s are hard months for me. Generally, I bottom out twice a year – February and July. But today is August and sunny and the turkeys no longer seem to be standing in the middle of the road causing traffic worries, so everything should be great from now on (until February).

Wednesday word: turkey

Geoff: Are you sure the turkeys we keep seeing are owned by someone?

Me: I saw them in the yard of that house on Main Street, the red one that used to be for sale and then the For Sale sign went away and now it looks all falling apart and abandoned.

Geoff: I don’t think anyone lives in that house.

Me: Clearly the turkeys terrorizing Middle Sackville do.

professional jealousy meets laziness

I’ve slumped.

Sometimes I’m going along really well, writing, reading, editing, that I can’t imagine not continuing on that path forever. Then, all of a sudden, I stop, unable to figure out what happened. Well, summer happened. Going on vacation happened. A stream of people visiting me happened. Still, I have time. If I really cared about writing, wouldn’t I find a few pockets here and there to scribble something furtively down?

The answer, it seems, is no.

I read a book last week, plenty of recommendations on the cover, write-ups in The Globe and Mail, and just felt like shit afterwards. As I flipped the pages, I thought to myself I write better than that. As I read each page, I felt like grabbing a pen and marking up where the story needed edits (I was reading on my iPad so I refrained). When I got to the end and saw how many of the stories had been published elsewhere, including in fancy literary journals that, as of yet, have not accepted my stuff, I got angry. How can these stories, with inconsistent voices, over-expositioned, and obvious narrative be published while I languish here, unloved and unpublished? I asked myself. I stomped around our rental cottage. I yelled at Geoff how unfair it was.

Geoff reminded me that I had been published – just not a book. And he reminded me we don’t live in a meritocracy. It doesn’t matter if my stuff is better (as amorphous and vague as that can be for fiction). People aren’t published over other people because they are better. People get published because of talent, connections, being in the right place at the right time, knowledge, bribes, favours, and mostly luck.

And, of course, I haven’t been writing much. I can’t really expect celebrity to fall into my lap when my body of work is negligible. I can’t be a writer if I don’t write.

I’m trying to unslump (inflate?). My course starts in September. I was accepted into an online writing group. So I’ll have accountability. Still, something inside me still nags me quietly to give up. Sometimes when this happens, I suddenly get an acceptance that buoys me back up. Other times, I have to make myself work on my own. I think it is one of those other times.

day

Another year passed. Tesfa eagerly gave me a present yesterday morning:

clips 033

Those who spent time with me in Costa Rica or Ethiopia may remember my love of these Dollarama clothespins, and no, I haven’t shut up about them. Even my four year old knows how much I love these clips.

A commendation to Geoff for taking a kid to Dollarama and getting out unscathed (and with only two additional suddenly necessary in a four year old’s mind purchases) and a commendation to me for knowing how awesome these clothespins are.

do you even want me to read this book?

I got Love in the Time of Cholera out of the library (I know – I need to do another library haul photo soon). It’s the Knopf 1988 hard-cover publication (because my library has many older books) and I’m reading it and thinking “Did anyone at Knopf actually want me to read this book?” The book is slightly too large and too heavy to hold comfortably, there doesn’t seem to be any care taken with cover design, and worst of all, the font: it’s some sort of dingy font that looks typewritten and smudged with thin margins that is a pain in the ass to read. Did no one design books in the 1980s? Reading a poorly designed book is tedious, no matter how enthusiastic I am about the content.

Don’t even get me started on how poorly arranged some professionally published e-books are.