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greygirlbeastI'm probably feeling far too rabidly antisocial even for a journal entry this morning, but here goes. And isn't it odd that in 2009, an undertaking that was once the very definition of private— writing an entry in a journal or diary —has now become a public spectacle? It seems to me that "we" are so very afraid of a moment alone, truly and completely alone, without even the promise that someone will at least eventually look at what is being done, what we are thinking, what we are feeling. A society that is becoming increasingly exhibitionist, and, of course, also becoming increasingly voyeuristic. It's a nice psychotic balance, I suppose, a new ecosystem of excessive interaction. Or not new, only made more intent, more intensely so. Makes Big Brother's job easier, I suppose.
No writing yesterday. No busyness of writing yesterday (a few emails aside). We went to the shore, to see the heavy surf that was the aftermath of the storm. We went first to Narragansett, to Harbor of Refuge. We were both surprised by the violence of the waves. It was greater than what we'd expected. We walked out on the beach on the western side of the granite jetty. The air was full of salt mist and sea gulls, and the wind was bitter, though the day was freakishly warm (high 60sF here in Providence). The sun was bright, a white hole of fire punched in the sky. It was almost impossible to hear one another over the roar of the waves, but then, there was nothing that needed saying, anyway. We found a surfboard washed up on the sand, its owner nowhere to be seen. It was clear that the high tide, which had been sometime around 9 a.m. (CaST), had come well inland, into the brush and salt marshes north of the harbor. It appeared that wooden barricades had been erected the day before to keep back sightseers, but the waves had smashed them. Spooky found an orange blob of fish eggs amongst the flotsam. I'm not sure how high the waves were— officially, I mean —but they were slamming against and over-topping the jetty (which is 5-7 feet high, if you're standing on the beach it protects), sending spray twenty or thirty feet into the afternoon air.
We left Harbor of Refuge, having decided we wanted to see what was going on farther west, at Moonstone Beach. But first we went all the way down to Point Judith, where the tide was lower than I'd ever seen it before. Mossy green rocks were exposed, and tide pools, but the waves were too treacherous to try for a look at what might be stranded in them. The foghorn at the lighthouse called out over the crash of the breakers.
On the way to Moonstone Beach, I pointed out a bumper sticker to Spooky. "Do No Harm." As if that's even possible, as if every human action, no matter how profound or mundane, doesn't do harm in some way. Still, I suppose it's a nice sentiment.
We reached Moonstone as the sun was getting low. We'd stopped somewhere along the way so I could photograph a field, still green in December. We passed cows and flooded pastures. When we finally reached Moonstone Beach, we found it completely transformed by the storm. The usual carpet of cobbles and pebbles was swept away or buried. Much of the sand was stained black with the ghost of the '96 oil spill. The waves were almost as impressive as those at Harbor of Refuge, four and half miles to the east. Despite low tide, the brackish tea-colored water in Trustom Pond was very high, rushing loudly through the spillway into Card Pond. Spooky and I walked west, towards Green Hill, walking into the wind. But we only went a hundred yards or so. The sun slipped behind clouds advancing from Long Island Sound, and the temperature abruptly plummeted. By the time we made it back to the car, we were shivering and the dunes were in shadow.
And that was yesterday. I have enough photographs for several days, and the first seven are behind the cut below.
Please note that we've begun a new round of eBay auctions. And that Spooky has only four of her Cthulhu-headstone Cehalopodmas ornaments remaining (of the ten she made); you can see (and purchase) them in her Etsy Dreaming Squid Dollworks shop.
There will be no writing today. I have to finish editing "Sanderlings" and get the chapbook ready to send to Subterranean Press. Also, I need to undo a large number of changes that an over-zealous copy-editor wrought upon one of my stories. I will not name the story, the book, or the editors— it wasn't their fault. I just wish publishers would start firing copy-editors who try to become authors vicariously, by "correcting," and thereby mangling, prose. It is an enormous waste of my time that I have to go back, now, and fix what wasn't broken to begin with.
Photos from Harbor of Refuge:
Looking east, from Harbor of Refuge towards the lighthouse at Point Judith.
View to the southeast.
View to the southwest. Jetty at the far right.
Harbor of Refuge, with the jetty at center and to the left. View to the southwest.
Waves visible above the top edge of the jetty. View to the east.
In the lee of the jetty. View to the south southwest.
Violence and gulls on the jetty. VIew to the south.
All photographs Copyright © 2009 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac.
No writing yesterday. No busyness of writing yesterday (a few emails aside). We went to the shore, to see the heavy surf that was the aftermath of the storm. We went first to Narragansett, to Harbor of Refuge. We were both surprised by the violence of the waves. It was greater than what we'd expected. We walked out on the beach on the western side of the granite jetty. The air was full of salt mist and sea gulls, and the wind was bitter, though the day was freakishly warm (high 60sF here in Providence). The sun was bright, a white hole of fire punched in the sky. It was almost impossible to hear one another over the roar of the waves, but then, there was nothing that needed saying, anyway. We found a surfboard washed up on the sand, its owner nowhere to be seen. It was clear that the high tide, which had been sometime around 9 a.m. (CaST), had come well inland, into the brush and salt marshes north of the harbor. It appeared that wooden barricades had been erected the day before to keep back sightseers, but the waves had smashed them. Spooky found an orange blob of fish eggs amongst the flotsam. I'm not sure how high the waves were— officially, I mean —but they were slamming against and over-topping the jetty (which is 5-7 feet high, if you're standing on the beach it protects), sending spray twenty or thirty feet into the afternoon air.
We left Harbor of Refuge, having decided we wanted to see what was going on farther west, at Moonstone Beach. But first we went all the way down to Point Judith, where the tide was lower than I'd ever seen it before. Mossy green rocks were exposed, and tide pools, but the waves were too treacherous to try for a look at what might be stranded in them. The foghorn at the lighthouse called out over the crash of the breakers.
On the way to Moonstone Beach, I pointed out a bumper sticker to Spooky. "Do No Harm." As if that's even possible, as if every human action, no matter how profound or mundane, doesn't do harm in some way. Still, I suppose it's a nice sentiment.
We reached Moonstone as the sun was getting low. We'd stopped somewhere along the way so I could photograph a field, still green in December. We passed cows and flooded pastures. When we finally reached Moonstone Beach, we found it completely transformed by the storm. The usual carpet of cobbles and pebbles was swept away or buried. Much of the sand was stained black with the ghost of the '96 oil spill. The waves were almost as impressive as those at Harbor of Refuge, four and half miles to the east. Despite low tide, the brackish tea-colored water in Trustom Pond was very high, rushing loudly through the spillway into Card Pond. Spooky and I walked west, towards Green Hill, walking into the wind. But we only went a hundred yards or so. The sun slipped behind clouds advancing from Long Island Sound, and the temperature abruptly plummeted. By the time we made it back to the car, we were shivering and the dunes were in shadow.
And that was yesterday. I have enough photographs for several days, and the first seven are behind the cut below.
Please note that we've begun a new round of eBay auctions. And that Spooky has only four of her Cthulhu-headstone Cehalopodmas ornaments remaining (of the ten she made); you can see (and purchase) them in her Etsy Dreaming Squid Dollworks shop.
There will be no writing today. I have to finish editing "Sanderlings" and get the chapbook ready to send to Subterranean Press. Also, I need to undo a large number of changes that an over-zealous copy-editor wrought upon one of my stories. I will not name the story, the book, or the editors— it wasn't their fault. I just wish publishers would start firing copy-editors who try to become authors vicariously, by "correcting," and thereby mangling, prose. It is an enormous waste of my time that I have to go back, now, and fix what wasn't broken to begin with.
Photos from Harbor of Refuge:
Looking east, from Harbor of Refuge towards the lighthouse at Point Judith.
View to the southeast.
View to the southwest. Jetty at the far right.
Harbor of Refuge, with the jetty at center and to the left. View to the southwest.
Waves visible above the top edge of the jetty. View to the east.
In the lee of the jetty. View to the south southwest.
Violence and gulls on the jetty. VIew to the south.
All photographs Copyright © 2009 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac.
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no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 06:06 pm (UTC)Oh, yes. Nothing is real unless it can be commented on. It's how you know you matter.
I have enough photographs for several days, and the first seven are behind the cut below.
They are very beautiful, especially the surf spilling in to shore. Have in return some images of life in the sea.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 06:21 pm (UTC)Oh, yes. Nothing is real unless it can be commented on. It's how you know you matter.
That seems to be the case, yes.
Thanks for the link!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 06:55 pm (UTC)Among my students (university level), there's an expectation, an assumption, of connectedness. I don't think many of them even consider their actions as exhibitionistic or voyeuristic. They always know what their friends are doing, and if they become friends with someone new, there's an immediate integration into the group. New thoughts and ideas don't develop de novo from within, but are assimilated through addition.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 06:59 pm (UTC)Among my students (university level), there's an expectation, an assumption, of connectedness. I don't think many of them even consider their actions as exhibitionistic or voyeuristic. They always know what their friends are doing, and if they become friends with someone new, there's an immediate integration into the group. New thoughts and ideas don't develop de novo from within, but are assimilated through addition.
This is pretty much what I would expect, and I find it utterly terrifying. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I do. Where does the individual factor into this? What about individuals on the fringes? Do they not become even more alienated by this hive-mind behaviour?
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 07:20 pm (UTC)I see it as the ultimate extension of the high-school clique mentality. When I was in high school, the in-school cliques were intensive group-fests (no matter what clique it was), but by necessity it dissolved slightly in the after-school hours. That dissolution doesn't happen any more.
What about individuals on the fringes? Do they not become even more alienated by this hive-mind behaviour?
What fringes? I don't think they exist in the same way they used to, because they relied on alienation, moving the targeted individual out of any group or support structure. At a large university, there's enough students that everyone finds a group of like-minded individuals, plus they can keep their group members from previous locations. The ubiquity of cell phones (and their cameras) means that meaningful contact can be maintained without physical proximity. Alienation, and the threat of alienation, becomes much less of a factor.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 07:37 pm (UTC)...Then again, I hate my cellphone and I don't really care that I've lost it because I'm not the type to be in constant contact with people.
But I think for the most part you're right. It really baffles me to sit in one of my seminar courses and see how many of these people know each and from already before and I feel odd at these times because I don't belong. My thoughts are usually "why do all these people know each other and how?"
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 07:21 pm (UTC)I tend to use the "connected" arenas for stuff I want commentary on, but the rest of it feels fine on paper. I realize someone will probably read it someday, but mostly it's me writing for me, and I'm fine with that. I also constantly critique myself for my lackadaisical writing there.
Though I also think of all those weird little tidbits and manuscripts down through the years that survive only due to being mentioned in other manuscripts. Or the manuscript culture of Early Modern England, and all the strange stuff people had floating around in their miscellanies, and wonder where my stuff will end up after I'm gone.
I have a "Book of Flowers" I save from the early 1850s from somewhere in Connecticut that was lingering on a shelf somewhere. It has several poems inside in several different hands, and I still don't know who put them together for who.
I have issues with the hive mind also. My local "network" is pretty rife with individuals, but I'm enough of a hermit I don't make too many connections. Oddly, I'm the point where a lot of the streams cross, though I find people I have met through some circles are friends with friends I've made years earlier.
It's tough to say whether or not I feel more or less alienated, for as much as I find in common with these groups, it makes me aware of how much I don't have in common. I often think of the opening of Sinclair Lewis's Main Street:
"Such is our comfortable tradition and sure faith. Would he not betray himself an alien cynic who should otherwise portray Main Street, or distress the citizens by speculating whether there may not be other faiths?"
I have to remind folks that more often than not, I'm the alien cynic among them for many reasons, whatever appreciations we hold in common.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 07:44 pm (UTC)I have a "Book of Flowers" I save from the early 1850s from somewhere in Connecticut that was lingering on a shelf somewhere. It has several poems inside in several different hands, and I still don't know who put them together for who.
There's a sadness to that, but, somehow, this fact also makes them more precious.
I realize someone will probably read it someday, but mostly it's me writing for me, and I'm fine with that.
It seems to be getting harder and harder for me to do that, write those things that are for me and me only. My private journal has been languishing, for the most part, since sometime in 2005. And I hate this. I hate it so much, but it's still happening. It's as though I'm so terrified I have to be a part of this bizarre gestalt shift in order for my fiction to reach an audience. A fear of being forgotten. And the secret thoughts fall by the wayside, increasingly. Otherwise, I would leave Twitter and Facebook immediately. And probably write a lot less here.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 08:04 pm (UTC)The stuff I write for myself tends to be very plain, conversational, and tersely descriptive: "I cooked this meal today"; "I went for a walk and write this at the G.I. Bill Memorial." (Nice place to write!) I don't get into any prose pyrotechnics. However, most of what I've written over the last three years has been that sort of thing. I know it's of lower quality and only serves me, but I don't seem to be writing much else. And yet, with the prospect of an audience, I can see the quality improve.
It seems to be the problem you mention, in reverse.
I think to write my secret thoughts, I need to give it some sort of frame, which may or may not ever become public. I started a memoir a few years ago on such terms and never sought to publish it. However, the people I've shared it with, not with an eye towards publication, but merely explanation, said it was one of the best things they'd read on the subject. I had not intended that at the time, but it needed something extra for me to put the effort into it.
Did any of your difficulty surface in some of the diary portions of The Red Tree? I imagine crafting a fictional journal might illuminate problems with one's own journal, and you have mentioned that there's a lot of autobiographical detail.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 08:13 pm (UTC)Did any of your difficulty surface in some of the diary portions of The Red Tree?
Yes. In the end, when it was written, I was rather horrified that so much of it was, essentially, autobiography. A lot of that happened unconsciously. And I think that may be because I am, increasingly, unable to distinguish between that which ought to be personal and that which ought to be private. I suppose this is the ghost of my own propriety, and propriety must surely be an unfashionable thing these days.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 08:27 pm (UTC)"I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train."
I grew up in a rather enmeshed household, so my sense of privacy is blurred. I don't think anyone in my family writes letters to people: they always seemed to be a product for group consumption, probably a holdover from the days where people had little information except for long letters from the relatives. As a reaction to this, I'm very private about some things.
However, my perceptions are also skewed by knowing many journals, once private, eventually work their way to the historians' mitts. So the tack I take is to try to write the personal and private, omitting nothing, and dodge the idea that someone may see it a few decades or centuries down the line, and may prove valuable in ways I hadn't considered.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 11:52 pm (UTC)Should all novelists be forced to lead exciting, interesting lives so that we can use them as fodder for our “fictions”?
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 11:55 pm (UTC)Should all novelists be forced to lead exciting, interesting lives so that we can use them as fodder for our “fictions”?
By no means and a thousands time no. However, I do fear that those who live (or have lived) interesting lives write better, simply because they've lived more. This, however, really has nothing to do with issues of privacy.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 12:44 am (UTC)It’s something to draw on, certainly. I imagine all artists cannibalize themselves, whether overtly or not. And if the cupboard is bare...
This, however, really has nothing to do with issues of privacy.
I was more commenting on the notion of propriety. (And I was kind of joking.) It’s easier to skinny dip when other people are already doing it. You may even feel compelled...
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 12:47 am (UTC)You may even feel compelled...
I would say you may even feel peer pressure and industry expectation...to skinny dip.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 11:38 pm (UTC)How much is keeping these channels up-to-the-minute costing you in productivity and sanity? There must be a “sweet spot.” Generating more book sales probably doesn't justify endangering the creation of future books. I really am afraid (and I care, ironically, because you do all of this) that you are going to exhaust yourself, or—I don’t know—break yourself somehow. And all the kings horses... Etc.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-04 11:49 pm (UTC)How much is keeping these channels up-to-the-minute costing you in productivity and sanity?
It's not really much of an issue with time. Well, except with the LiveJournal, and so long as people want to read it, I'll keep doing it. On average, it costs me-1.5/2 hrs. a day to keep the LJ interesting. Very low on sanity, since I don't allow anonymous comments and I'm quick to squelch anything that truly irritates me. Yes, in the Realm of My LJ, I am a despot.
On the other hand, Twitter and Facebook take very little time, virtually none, really. But they have exacted quite a bit sanity-wise, as I cannot turn off comments on Facebook (Oh, if only), and if Twitter is to be useful to me, I can't very well have it private. So...I don't know. I suspect I'll drop Twitter and Facebook, eventually.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 12:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 12:34 am (UTC)There is some interesting evidence that Facebook and Twitter are reaching two different demographics (Twitter being an older crowd, generally)...but...
What return do I see on anything? It's almost impossible to judge. I can say that X number of people are "following" me on Twitter, or X number have "friended" me on LJ, but I cannot possibly say what that equals in any sort of tangible return.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 01:02 am (UTC)That’s why I think, if you don’t get something intangible out of it, you should minimize or eliminate it. It needs to be fun/informative/satisfying/calming in its own right, doesn’t it—in order to justify more energy than that?
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 02:11 pm (UTC)It's important to know that just because one doesn't understand the usefulness of something, it can nevertheless be useful.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 03:02 pm (UTC)Twitter has proven to be a very effective tool for independent artists to connect with and mobilize their fanbases, not to mention building that fanbase. Here is an article about how Amanda Palmer (she of the Dresden Dolls and lately solo) made far more money off of a night on Twitter than she did off the entirety of her major label solo album.
It is important to remember that Amanda came to Twitter with her fan base already in place. Twitter didn't create it. It only helped her communicate with it.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 03:41 pm (UTC)Definitely, though I think that the ease with which it enables her to connect (and to make her fans feel connected) makes Twitter no less important or useful a tool. I have seen people introduced to Amanda's work through Twitter as well, and cross-pollination from other twitterers (Neil, of course, but also Warren Ellis and others) that helped raise awareness of her and her music.
All that said, I'm not sure Twitter is necessarily as useful for you as it is for her. Amanda is a cult of personality, and a extremely extroverted person. She is as much an internet marketer as an artist, these days, and I can't imagine you have the temperament, time or energy to perform the sorts of social acrobatics she does with her video streams and #lofnotc (Losers On Friday Night On Their Computers) shenanigans. All conversations about Amanda's success have to be made with the understanding that, whether you like her or not, she's an outlier and a force of nature.
But while the results aren't as dramatic, I think raising awareness of you (hateful term, but) as a "brand" through Facebook and Twitter can only help.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 06:48 pm (UTC)I asked the question (What return do you see on Twitter?), not believing I already knew the answer.
I do understand Twitter as a marketing tool—once your brand reaches a certain threshold of fame. And Amanda Palmer (the brand, champion of all things “indie”) is there. Also, being an early adopter counts for quite a bit. (Look at most of the artists with millions of hits on deviantArt, for example.) So that part I get.
But not really knowing Amanda, I would guess that she enjoys “tweeting.” Even if it weren’t such a successful marketing channel for her, she might tweet anyway. CRK apparently doesn’t enjoy it. So, while I agree that being on Twitter probably “helps,” does it help enough to justify itself? I would guess not.
Maybe I should have asked, “Could you learn to enjoy it?”
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 06:56 pm (UTC)Maybe I should have asked, “Could you learn to enjoy it?”
To which I would reply, "Why would I bother?" Which brings us back to the question of whether or not it's useful. And whether or not one can determine if it's useful for any given person.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 07:33 pm (UTC)There is risk involved with any venture. According to business research texts, “great” companies don’t often dabble. They either fully fund a program or they phase it out. They have successes and failures, but not because/in spite of the fact that they didn’t invest in them. Successful cigarette companies hire people who believe passionately that people ought to have the right to indulge in smoking even though it’s bad for them. Etc.
If you can’t be bothered to learn to enjoy Twitter (after having used it for months), I don’t think it’s likely to bring success for you—even if the potential is there.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-05 08:08 pm (UTC)I could see you being successful with a marketing campaign like that. You have a passion for WoW (even though it’s bad for you).