I was tagged in this Virtual Blog Tour by my IRL, far away friend, Jeanette Clawson, at Lunanista. She was tagged by Sue Jones at It Goes On. I don’t know where all this insanity got started.
Let’s play some Jamiroquai and not sweat it. Go on. Sliiide. Follow it with “Happy,” if you can take it. There. Even if you’re no Fred Astaire, that has to be at least a Tootsie-Roll’s worth of calories burned. Maybe two, if you wore a large goofy wool hat through both songs…now,
What am I working on?
Funny you should ask. I’m in the last gasps before Digital Plow gets loose in the world. It’s a fiction novel about three high school classmates who return to their small Kentucky hometown for a wedding, only to uncover details of a twenty-year old drug crime and subvert the technology achievements of a small communist country. Though Digital Plow is fiction, I’ve done a lot of work to research characters like General Felix Zollicoffer, the history of the Cumberland River, and the construction of labor markets throughout history. It’s been a hell of a lot of fun, but it’s time to find a new agent and share. I’m trying not to be freaked out about that.
Mr. Donut. A Business Book for Big Kids.
This is my weekend project, as I can’t ususally take over our dining room to paint during the week. I saw “the ELEMENTS of STYLE” exhibit at The Frist Center for the Visual Arts this summer. Maira Kalman’s charming watercolors in combination with Strunk & White’s clear advice inspired me to play more with paint and words. I’ve always loved the old Dunkin’ Donuts ads, and used “time to make the donuts” as a substitute for “(let’s) do the work.” Through the years, I’ve kept my writing and artwork distinct from the work I do with computers and technology–for no good damn reason that I can figure, now. This summer, a bell rang for me. I like to call it “The DUH bell.” In my head, it’s more gong than tinkle, and tolls out–
Just tell the story!
I’ve got to do a better job of putting it out there, as my friend, Cyndi Williams so eloquently reminded me, “we (writers) need to practice!” So, I’m re-working an old story about lima beans for the telling, here:
Flip the Coin: Logical Engineering for Illogical Times. (Or some such, we’re in early stages, here.)
A tech prof friend asked if I’d consider visiting her engineering classes to talk about how we are trained to use logic, the scientific method, physics, and other scientific tradition and training to create, adapt, and change technology…and how that same thinking can make us terrible at identifying, listening, and addressing the needs of people. I was just looking forward to a good time learning with some young people, but then Laura Creekmore and I blew through all the colors on her office’s whiteboard walls, and LO! & Behold! …there was that DUH Bell, again. So, I’m outlining the series, and a book.
How does my work differ from others of my genre?
Multidisciplinary should probably be my middle name.
Why do I write/create what I do?
My favorite sort of work is to solve problems and learn new things. Now, probably because I’m a farmer’s kid, I don’t think of problems as, you know, bad things. They’re just part of life. I’ve had more than a few butt chewings in the wee hours of the morning about how the cows didn’t get out into the corn to piss me off–it’s simply part of their nature. I’ve grown fairly Zen about people getting loose in the technology, too. I create because I believe stories and art can bridge the gap between fear of change and hope for the future.
How does your writing/creating process work?
same time, same place, same channel.
Swallow biggest, nastiest frog, first.
Take little breaks. Walk. Eat. Remember to take care of me.
Say “no” to most things.
Swallow next biggest, nastiest frog…
Take little breaks. Walk. Take care of me.
Say “no” to most things,
take little breaks. Walk. Remember to eat. Take care of me.
And so forth
& so on.
Lately, after taking a poetry class with Jeff Hardin, though I’m a terrible poet and an even worse blogger–I’ve been using between moments (the school pickup line, waiting for meetings to start, found time, et. al.) differently. One of his “spark plugs” was to keep a notebook of opening lines of poems, to grab and write from as prompts ANY time. ALL the time. It has been a wonderful technique for me. There’s no chance to put on my fat ego, over think, or grow paranoid about writing poorly. I just get over myself and go on.
I’m tagging Laura J. Snyder, because I adore her brilliant work from afar, and Nancy VanReece, because I talk with her often, but we don’t often get around to chatting about process.