Blog A Go-Go

In which you might want to make a pot of tea and settle in

This one is going to take awhile. Sunday seems like the perfect time to post today's link. It needs time and thoughtful consideration, it ought to be savored, read over more than once because it is just that good. Turn it over in your head, wander off and then come back to it and enjoy it again. Pass it along to your creative-minded friends. Blog about it yourselves or write riveting journal entries about what you think of it. Personally, I think Hugh MacLeod deserves a MacArthur grant, but no one's calling me for suggestions. (I find it fascinating that you cannot nominate someone for a MacArthur grant. Apparently, you just have to know someone who is on the committee, but the committee is anonymous, so I'm not sure how they identify each other. Secret handshake? Cryptic ads on CraigsList?) Anyway, go and read his extensive blog entry on creativity and enjoy.

In which I ought to make it up to you

Yesterday was scary, no? So today I offer you something genuinely lovely. It is Contrariwise and the concept is simple--it is a blog that records and celebrates tattoos based upon favorite literary works. Some are visual, some are words, all are terribly meaningful. (Again, this is a site someone else linked to and I've managed to forget where I saw it. It may have been my friend Kristin who had herself inked in honor of her darling son with a few lines of e e cummings.) In any event, it got me wondering, what words are powerful enough that you would want them engraved on your skin forever? If I were to do this today, the quote would be from Tolkien--All who wander are not lost. But doubtless I would find something different tomorrow and deeply regret something that requires lasers and skin grafts to undo. (I do have a tattoo but it's so discreet it took my former gynecologist a year to notice it. It's on my left hip, high enough to be hidden under shorts.) 

Revision watch: 350 pages done and the next two days will be the most challenging. Today I have to write a lengthy scene that isn't in the first draft but ought to be, and tomorrow will be a 75-page push to finish instead of my usual 50. But it's almost there and it's going VERY well, so I'm not complaining.

In which I think all gifts should be handmade

I'm not kidding. On Saturday the mailman delivered a prezzie from my delightful and gorgeous friend, Sherri. (She of the San Francisco trip.) There was Christmas music--for which I will happily break my post-Thanksgiving-only-rule and start listening immediately--and what Sherri said was a dishcloth, knitted by her very own hands. It's the first thing she's ever made, and it is not a dishcloth. It is, however, a perfect ice cream cozy, just the thing to wrap around a pint of Ben & Jerry's to keep your hands from freezing when you want to be a complete pig and eat it all yourself. It is a delicious shade of pink, frivolous and lipsticky. What I love about this gift is that it took her hours to make. I know it tickled her to make it and to think of my reaction when I got it. To say Sherri is a busy girl is an understatement. She is a super-involved mom with three kids and a business to run. There are days when she talks about her schedule and I want to go lie down because just listening to her has fatigued me. She's super woman, no doubt about it. Yet in spite of the four hundred other things she could have been doing, she made me a dishcloth. And that glamorous pink dishcloth is going to cozy up to my Ben & Jerry's for a very long time to come.

In which I wish I spoke French

I took Spanish in school--years of it. (My parents' argument was that we lived 150 miles from the border of Mexico and it would be far more useful than French. The bitter truth is that I used my Spanish ONCE in North Star Mall in San Antonio to help a lady from Mexico buy shoes. Seriously.) Anyway, it has always been a profound regret of mine that I don't speak French, but now the regret has turned savage because of Marie Claire Idees, a craft magazine that has an online blog and NO translation. Apparently, crafters around the world just LOVE it, but either they all have better linguistic skills than I do or they just look at the pretty pictures. Either way, I am planning on swiping my daughter's French I textbook when she's not looking. Bonjour. Je m'appelle Deanna. Mon chat est noir. 

In which you might want some creative play

I know a few of you artists and writers and other creative types drop by the Blog A Go-Go from time to time, so here's a place you might enjoy: ArtellaLand 

Artella started a few years ago as a place for creative peeps to get some inspiration. It's grown into an interactive web experience with forums, a shop, a community, a place to share your creations. You can sign up for an e-mail newsletter and browse the collection of goodies available for purchase. (If you like SARK, you'll enjoy ArtellaLand.) Enjoy!

In which I am crafty

As part of the preparation for the new book, I am embarking on a few craft projects. I do so much reading in the weeks leading up to starting a novel that I find myself staggering around, bleary-eyed and disoriented. Much better to break up the reading with a few things to get myself off the sofa or away from the computer. Starting with Silent in the Grave, I have made collages for each novel, pasting together images of settings or character faces, snippets of poetry or fabric or patterned papers. The collages are always hung opposite my desk so I can see them as I work. They are inspiration as well as shorthand to details I don't want to forget.

The collages have been so successful that I have decided to expand into a few more projects with the start of the next book. In addition to the collage work, I will be working with a pen and ink and a set of calligraphy instructions, and I'll be making Turkish Delight and rice pudding. (Those last two are technically cooking and not crafting but since I've no intention of eating either one, I consider them crafts. I may nibble the rice pudding, but the notion of eating Turkish Delight fills me with dread.) I will also be putting together my playlist to work by which I will post on the sidebar as soon as it's complete. (The Silent on the Moor playlist will be taken down then, so be sure to jot down anything you're interested in now. I highly recommend the CD by Angele DuBeau.)

In which everyone needs a little SARK

Creativity is a voracious monster that demands to be fed. Sometimes it's good to be very grown up about it and take in museums and documentaries and other such serious things. And other times it's best to be a child, to revel in bright colors and whimsical shapes and juicy living. Whether you are an artist or a person who wishes to live big, SARK is a lovely resource. Check out her website, at PlanetSark. I have stockpiled her books for days when I need a boost of something colorful and a reminder to play, and near my desk I have a postcard-sized version of her famous poster, How To Be An Artist. My favorite line is "invite someone dangerous to tea". For me, SARK is an excellent reminder that serendipity is to be courted.

In which I am dizzy

because I have been spending WAY too much time looking at HER . Does she spin clockwise or counter-clockwise for you? I've spent the better part of an hour making her switch back and forth, and I'm pretty sure I can smell my retinas toasting.