Writing Cats & Dogs
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Professional Writing
or writing about my profession...
A paragraph:
SJAWP ISI 06
The 06 Institute, in two words, is creative and intense. Twenty participants – articulate, witty people - who teach in diverse settings from 1st grade to college, met for 20 days at the San Jose Area Writing Project Invitational Summer Institute, now dubbed ISI 06. This highly recommended group of educators rapidly melded into a community of writers and friends. They shared their expertise through demonstrations to highlight best practices or they bravely experimented with new approaches. We enjoyed humor along with the intensity and creativity: scribe notes, memoirs, diction exercises and creating our blogs. In our glorious four and-a-half week acquaintance, we have been reminded of the power of story, refreshed our poetic faculties, tackled essays from surprise angles and experienced multi-modal teaching. Book clubs reviewed latest professional publications in the field and writing groups have been attentive audiences giving honest feedback. Co-directors, Jonathan Lovell and Laura Brown, modeled and coached presenters and facilitated team building, but mostly have looked on in amazement as the ISI 06 reflects, writes and speaks.
The Deadline
Morning focuses slowly, with the coffee maker merely dribbling at the snack table, while participants mill around with empty white paper cups in hand. I wonder how could I feel so tired by Tuesday? Snacks appear and murmured repartee creates a skin of comfort. Some ISI friends are still in the parking garage getting their driving reputations out of hock. Today, even the reading of our Bird by Bird passage doesn’t alleviate a cold, inner strain. The scribe notes are funny, well-crafted reminders of how rich our ISI 06 has been so far. Finally, I begin to relax and smile naturally, when Jonathan mentions the P word.
He spoke only in passing, but the stainless steel moment kept some of us from breathing. It’s the Portfolio bit, with a capital P. A paralyzing prospect. Cognitive thought suspends. My stomach clenches and I try self-talk. “Come on, Brown…okay your wheels are spinning…you’ll get your professional writing done, somehow. Smile, you’re the co-director and – remember - you already got your certificate.” More emotional gravel flies and apprehension grapples with me. I cannot sensibly think when I might get this overwhelming task done. “At the very last minute, stupid!” says one of those inner voices. Our sentencing meeting will be later this afternoon. We don’t look at each other.
Gads, it’s contagious like the Anthology committee anxiety, only worse. I think I’m developing a full-scale anxiety neurosis. The summer calendar and deadlines are a blur. The end is rapidly approaching like the proverbial train. (You were eager and optimistic when you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, until you apprehend the meaning…) ¶ 9:47 PM 2 Comments
or writing about my profession...
A paragraph:
SJAWP ISI 06
The 06 Institute, in two words, is creative and intense. Twenty participants – articulate, witty people - who teach in diverse settings from 1st grade to college, met for 20 days at the San Jose Area Writing Project Invitational Summer Institute, now dubbed ISI 06. This highly recommended group of educators rapidly melded into a community of writers and friends. They shared their expertise through demonstrations to highlight best practices or they bravely experimented with new approaches. We enjoyed humor along with the intensity and creativity: scribe notes, memoirs, diction exercises and creating our blogs. In our glorious four and-a-half week acquaintance, we have been reminded of the power of story, refreshed our poetic faculties, tackled essays from surprise angles and experienced multi-modal teaching. Book clubs reviewed latest professional publications in the field and writing groups have been attentive audiences giving honest feedback. Co-directors, Jonathan Lovell and Laura Brown, modeled and coached presenters and facilitated team building, but mostly have looked on in amazement as the ISI 06 reflects, writes and speaks.
The Deadline
Morning focuses slowly, with the coffee maker merely dribbling at the snack table, while participants mill around with empty white paper cups in hand. I wonder how could I feel so tired by Tuesday? Snacks appear and murmured repartee creates a skin of comfort. Some ISI friends are still in the parking garage getting their driving reputations out of hock. Today, even the reading of our Bird by Bird passage doesn’t alleviate a cold, inner strain. The scribe notes are funny, well-crafted reminders of how rich our ISI 06 has been so far. Finally, I begin to relax and smile naturally, when Jonathan mentions the P word.
He spoke only in passing, but the stainless steel moment kept some of us from breathing. It’s the Portfolio bit, with a capital P. A paralyzing prospect. Cognitive thought suspends. My stomach clenches and I try self-talk. “Come on, Brown…okay your wheels are spinning…you’ll get your professional writing done, somehow. Smile, you’re the co-director and – remember - you already got your certificate.” More emotional gravel flies and apprehension grapples with me. I cannot sensibly think when I might get this overwhelming task done. “At the very last minute, stupid!” says one of those inner voices. Our sentencing meeting will be later this afternoon. We don’t look at each other.
Gads, it’s contagious like the Anthology committee anxiety, only worse. I think I’m developing a full-scale anxiety neurosis. The summer calendar and deadlines are a blur. The end is rapidly approaching like the proverbial train. (You were eager and optimistic when you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, until you apprehend the meaning…) ¶ 9:47 PM 2 Comments
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Bayou
The velvet glove swamp defers to a pearl white sunset:
Rank undergrowth melds into a tranquil bottle green carpet.
A snowy white morph of a blue heron or a great egret – was it a Mississippiensis ibis?
The great bird turns our eye and rises smoothly into cream sky
I’m with elder daughter and her daughter, Rhiannon,
Photographed by Alice, my younger daughter -
Something fecund and serene – earthy, yes, prolific -
Not only the dank swamp, but the cloudy crane-laden sky
The humid horizon is softly low but not distant
While the flight deserts us on this small plank outpost.
My life points to Jessica and her arm caresses her daughter:
Jess, the next generation - something yielding and quiet about her yet strong;
Like this bayou swamp.
Simple and poised but unusual, almost exotic; with a grace of the crane.
The evening’s temperament is balmy after the sulky hot day.
Three generations rest placidly on the spacious Louisiana bayou. ¶ 12:42 PM 0 Comments
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Laura Loves Listening to Landscapes
iPhoto fills up with images I captured along the coast; tidepools, wave scapes and close-ups of sea marfackt. Do I aim the lens at people less often? Or is landscape painting and photography a different mode, away from my work world?
Perhaps I love the landscapes because there's a play between light and earth - something serene and soothing about the land laid out in soft light. Hillsides on a Ruebenesque couch.
When I absorb the complementary colors and the fractal play of patterns from minute to macrocosmic, well, I like that feeling that it all fits. A painter wants no inch of paper or canvas not working.
Landscapes cause me to listen to the big picture. Of course, I mean the everchanging landscapes I see when I drive or gaze on vistas. Somehow, when they are captured on camera they become mere postcards. ¶ 10:49 AM 2 Comments
iPhoto fills up with images I captured along the coast; tidepools, wave scapes and close-ups of sea marfackt. Do I aim the lens at people less often? Or is landscape painting and photography a different mode, away from my work world?
Perhaps I love the landscapes because there's a play between light and earth - something serene and soothing about the land laid out in soft light. Hillsides on a Ruebenesque couch.
When I absorb the complementary colors and the fractal play of patterns from minute to macrocosmic, well, I like that feeling that it all fits. A painter wants no inch of paper or canvas not working.
Landscapes cause me to listen to the big picture. Of course, I mean the everchanging landscapes I see when I drive or gaze on vistas. Somehow, when they are captured on camera they become mere postcards. ¶ 10:49 AM 2 Comments
