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Sam van Zweden

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Old people, dead birds, relationship breakdowns

It’s a gripping title, no?

I’ve been meaning to post about recurring themes and imagery in my writing, and to find out if this happens to other people. Will I grow out of it? Do I actually want to grow out of it?

I go through phases where the same imagery pops up in my writing, whether I like it or not. And they continue to resurface.

I’ve gone through a phase with disjointed and severed limbs. One with dead birds. Right now I’m going through a thing with old people. Usually there’s a relationship breakdown involved, or cyclical and unstoppable time. Perhaps it’s the way all these things can be connected to decay, and appropriate to use with breakdowns and time.

I’m torn between whether this makes my writing same-ish, or if it’s giving me the opportunity to really explore the possibilities of imagery. I’m leaning towards the latter. I never use the same image in the same way. It’ll get recycled, but it a new direction…

Does this happen to anyone else?

3

Paying Off

One thing I’ve found essential in this writing game – a thick skin.

I’ve been submitting my work to magazines and journals for about a year now, and it’s a really bizarre process. Most times, you email off your submission and you don’t know whether they’ve received it or not, then you sit on your hands for the allotted amount of time before assuming you’re safe to send the piece off somewhere else.

Occasionally I’ll receive a “Thanks for your submission – we’ll get back to you shortly,” and when I do my heart bursts with joy at some (any!) sort of acknowledgement.

Only recently have I got entirely practical and a little bit anal about this thing, and made a spreadsheet which details which piece went where, when, and when I should hear expect to hear back from them – and then the contact details of who I plan to contact if I don’t hear back. That was one thing that became really clear to me throughout the EWF – if you don’t hear from an editor within the timeframe they give you (most submissions guidelines will tell you how long you can expect to wait), it’s absolutely okay to contact them to check what’s happened to your submission. Editors are people too. They get busy. They lose stuff. They experience technical cock-ups.

The last year has been a long haul of ‘submit/wait/submit somewhere else/wait again/maybe get an actual “no”/cry for a bit/submit somewhere else/wait … ” (ad infinitum). But after all this, I think I’ve finally gotten somewhere, folks!

Yesterday I received not one, but TWO emails that made my heart sing. One said, ‘yes, yes actually we would love to publish your piece!’… the other said they thought my piece had potential, made some suggestions for re-working, and encouraged me to re-submit it.

I won’t name names of publications here, because I have a feeling that’s not entirely kosher. Let me give you all a bit of a spoiler about your first acceptance letters though – they are ABSOLUTELY the opposite of rejection letters.

The rejection letters I’ve received thus far go something like: “Dear Sam, Thanks for your submission to ____. Due to the volume and quality of submissions we have received, and limited space in the publication, the editorial process has been difficult. We are sorry to inform you that we will not be including your piece in our next issue, however we encourage you to submit more work in the future. Regards, Editor.”

They’re so vague and soul-crushing. “BUT WHY!?” I’m screaming at my computer, “WHY!? What was wrong with the piece?”

Acceptance letters though? Nice. Lovely! None of this vagueness. They say yes, then they tell you exactly why they think you’re awesome. I kid you not. It’s such a just payoff for all the soul-crushing the last year has brought. Finally, finally, finally, I got something past an editor!

So keep your eyes peeled, kids, I’ll keep you updated as to WHERE my work will be appearing closer to publication date.

And maintain a thick skin. It’ll happen.

4

Love-In

In the blogging community there are little widgety things floating around called “blog awards”. They snowball. You get one, then give it to a number of other people, who give it to other people and so on. It’s a sweet little internal love-fest for bloggers. I have suspicions about the nature of these things as shameless self-promotional tools. But I’m partaking. I’m in.
And it may help you, dear Reader, find some quality new reading!

…and I know that the recipients of this award will swoon over what appears to be a teacup full of roses.

This morning I received “One Lovely Blog” award from Spicyt. A big big thanks for that, Spicyt, I’m pretty chuffed.

So now I pass this award on to 15 of my favourite blogs. Yeah, 15! That’s a lot, huh? So here goes:

These, by the way are in no particular order… Let the Love Fest begin!

1. A Broken Laptop, by Mercedes M Yardley.
2. Adair On Books, by Misha Adair.
3. Clara Emily’s blog
4. Logic and Life
5. Dabbling All Day, by Nicole.
6. Creative Liberty
7. Should Be Reading, by MizB.
8. Thwok!
9. The Unabridged Girl.
10. Cellophane Teeth.
11. Literary Life
12. A Bisonicorn Cluster vomiting Rainbows.
13. So, You Wanna Be A Boxer?
14. Inkygirl: Daily Diversions for Writers.
15. Benjamin Solah, Marxist Horror Writer

I’m not sure how appropriate the term “lovely” is for all these blogs, but “freaking ace” is pretty true. So check ’em out. Partake in Love Fest 2010!

3

The Importance of Creative Peers, Again

A few weeks ago I posted about creative people’s hierarchy of needs. The one that resonates most with me is “the need for creative peers”.

The last week has really solidified that for me.

Currently in the last week of semester, which is followed by two or three weeks of things-still-due, my fellow course-mates have been working furiously on a final writing folio for one subject. Mine isn’t due until next Tuesday, so I’m still breathing easily, but some others were not. I received a 5am email begging for help to cut 500 words from a 2,500 word story. I did my best.

All throughout the week coming up to this, I’d also received copies of many other people’s stories for feedback.

My boyfriend laughed at me. I didn’t mind though. Because I know that when I get up to 24-hours before the due date and stress out about my idea being no good, and can’t see the typos for the words, and have to either make up or cut out 500 words – well then I know my creative peers will be there, inboxes wide open, ready to help.

And even when it’s not about editing, I can’t stress how grateful I am to have all these creative people around me. There’s a group of slam poets waiting to hear my latest lyrical bonanza. There’s a publication group waiting for me to send in some work to help make it great. There’s a TV show waiting for my reviews and interviews. And there’s you, dear reader, waiting with bated breath for my next post.

All these people just make it so much easier to produce. I’m thankful for you all.

3

Library Greed

I’m quite a fan of libraries. Especially since the Kew library is only a ten minute walk away. Even on wet and cold days, I can make that trek relatively unscathed and unsweaty. Libraries are warm and wholesome places – good for the soul.

However, a strange sort of greed overcomes me at the library.

Yesterday I went in to pick up a book I’d had a reservation on (Lark and Termite by Jane Anne Phillips), and to print some school work.

“Ten minutes,” thought I, “and I’ll be out of here.”

I picked up my reservation. I printed my work.

Then I thought I’d check for any books relevant to my current school work. I came out with Borges: A Life by Edwin Williamson, and Borges on Writing by Giovanni, Halpern & MacShane (eds). While one of these books might be handy, there is no reasonable way that I will get all my school reading done plus a biography, plus a collection of short stories, plus a book of interviews, plus some fiction book I picked up last week…all in the next three-ish weeks before the due date.

Libraries do this to me though. I get in there and the fever overcomes me. I see a book and panic that it won’t be there when I come back… This is ridiculous of course; it’s a library, the books will always come back and I’ll get a chance to read it when I actually do have time.

It’s almost like an ownership thing, only I’m well aware that borrowing a book doesn’t constitute ownership. Perhaps it’s my reading anxiety at work again, trying to get as much in as possible, even if it’s an unreasonable amount.

My library isn’t helpful in this matter either. They have lovely displays of “featured books”; themes and new acquisitions which take on a certain importance and urgency. I tried taking a smaller bag yesterday, but my library even provides free bags… I’m running out of ideas. Reason simply doesn’t suffice. My library-mind is a reasonless grab frenzy.

Is anyone else out there suffering from this curse?

4

Slamming into Wordsmith-ry

I’ve been loving slam poetry lately.

Emilie Zoey Baker guest-lectured at uni, and her performances made me laugh, giggles wrapped up in pretty images, musical words, gestures and rhythm.

I discovered Marc Bamuthi Joseph in an essay he wrote about the need to lay claim to words. His performances are physical poetry, “poetry in motion”, as he puts it.

Then a few days ago I found Shane Koyczan. Ohhh I sit there and close my eyes and shake my head. He delivers it all so beautifully, and just when it gets so lovely and heavy it feels like it’ll break, he chucks in some hilariously true thing that has to be laughed at.

Tomorrow, along fellow RMIT-ians, we’re gathering to bury ourselves in some slam. And while watching a lot of the work of the above people I’ve wondered a little what it is that I want my work to offer.

I’ve got rhythm. I don’t rhyme though… but neither does a lot of Marc Bamuthi Joseph’s work. And why am I trying to copy someone else’s work anyway?

I’ve got pretty images and a story… There’s just so many decisions to be made, and the thought of delivering it to an audience of my peers is absolutely terrifying.

But imagine if it goes well. Imagine if I work and work and end up with the ability to perform as beautifully as Marc Bamuthi Joseph or Shane Koyczan?

Yeah. Imagine that.

3

A Tangible Ass-Kicking

I know there are people out there who read lots. It’s a real thing. I know this.

There’s a whole list of them partaking in J Kaye’s 100+ Books Reading Challenge. However, the snob in me discounts them as those kind of people who read crime fiction/airport novels exclusively, chewing through five books a week. These people do the 100+ Books Challenge and write posts about how last year they read 200 books, which they’d really like to beat this year … sure. Why not?

But I also know that those people I respect read a lot. And it’s their enumeration of what they’ve read that makes my reading anxiety all the greater, and the ass-kicking I’m receiving all the more apparent.

Estelle Tang at 3000 Books estimates 50 books a year, and what she reads is always pretty respectable. I admire her.

I also admire Chris Flynn, whose post this week about the 31 books he’s read in 2010 made the ass-kicking my reading is receiving quite tangible.

Freakish reader Misha Adair has, at last update, read 30 books this year.

I’m falling behind! I’m only up to 17. Oh lordy. What a terrible person I must be! What am I doing with my time!?

…Studying. Working. Writing. Filming. Domestic-ing.

I do have some friendly competition of my own calibre though. JorjaKelly’s tally is now up to 15. She also studies and has busy busy days.

My 17 equals one book per week so far, not that it’s actually happened like that… That puts me on target for the 50 that Estelle Tang aims for. A worthy number, surely…But not 100.

To follow Chris Flynn’s quite entertaining post, though, here’s some stats. I love numbers. Just love them:

13 men. 4 women.
1 graphic novel. 14 fiction. 2 non-fiction.
3 Australian. 14 non-Australian.

Looks like I share reading habits with Chris Flynn, if perhaps not quite reading at the same rate…

But enough of this analysing business. Back to the books!

1

Fare Thee Well, But Be Back Soon!

Today is the last day of City Basement Books’ $1 closing down sale.

I did figure out what the deal is, they are only moving, not closing down entirely, but the move is quite vague. They’re going “somewhere” … “eventually”. So it might be a while before we see these lovely bookish people’s smiling faces.

On Wednesday I went down to the Basement and came out with five books. I wasn’t in a particularly search-y mood, so I picked up a few books that jumped out at me without too much searching.

“Alexander Solzhenitsyn” by Steven Allaback
“Papa Hemingway” by A.E Hotchner
“The Woodpecker Toy Fact” by Carmel Bird
“Collected Stories” by Janette Turner Hospital
“Cherry Ripe” by Carmel Bird

After this, I ran into other people who had been down there after me. And they’d come out with better stuff.

Truly jealous, I decided to go in for a second round. This proved more lucrative:

“Illywhacker” by Peter Carey
“Johnno” by David Malouf
“Automatic Teller” by Carmel Bird
“Seams of Light (Best Antipodean Essays)” by Morag Fraser (ed)
“Summer at Mount Hope” by Rosalie Ham
“Visible Ink 6: Anthology of New Writing”
“Talking Dirty”  by Susan Chenery

…much better!

Really happy with some of the collections of essays I picked up, a few good biographies, some Australian staples that I’ve never got around to, some new work from old favourites… and all that for $12! It’s just too good!

0

Really, truly in the clutches of The Muse

I don’t even remember the last time this happened.

I’m typing a poem and I cannot stop, I’m crying and watching this clip over and over. (Thankyou Jorja Kelly for sharing it on your blog). Such intense physicality affects me in a weird way.

I’ve got a throw-away sentence in my head, and it means so much to me, it’s been torturing me since I heard it. It’s beautiful.

I’m in the clutches of the Muse, and there is nowhere I’d rather be. Truly.

0

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