Rivulets of Gold

Despite recent snowfalls, this has been the driest winter I've seen here in our little valley on the mountain - but today the rain began falling.  As I crossed the carpark behind our little library by the pine trees I noticed this.....

My phone camera doesn't properly capture the soft gold of the pine pollen being gathered by the first runnels of water, but gives an idea of just how much pollen has drifted to the ground in the recent winds of late winter.....

Soon tiny rivers of gold were swirling across the tarmac and down the hill.  How much of it will become high protein food for all manner of worms, beetles, ants and other creatures, and how much of it will go back to the soil that the pines drew its components from, is a mystery.  Some windy days I have seen vast sheets of gold blowing from the wind-shaken pine trees beyond the creek, and it easy to imagine that many, many tons of pollen are settling all across our Blue Mountains.   I know the bees have already had their turn at this bounty, as I've seen them busy everywhere as the days grow longer.

The lichen looks happier too - at last, spring is making its entrance.....

Beyond Reason

Stop Being Reasonable is the title and main theme of a book that I have just read, written by Australian philosopher Eleanor Gordon-Smith.  She discusses the mythology about, and limits of, reason as the idealised form of human decision making and behaviour, and gives some remarkable case studies to guide our own thinking and self awareness.

Gordon-Smith was recently interviewed on the ABC regarding one of those case studies.  In what many would regard as a risky, courageous endeavour, she took her recorder and notebook and set out to walk past building sites, shopping centres, and even down that strangest of Australian places - Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross. 

When, as so often happens to women in such locations, she was cat-called, whistled at, or propositioned by male strangers, she stopped, introduced herself, and asked them "Why?" 

The resulting answers, given in the full knowledge that they were being recorded by a woman who intended to analyse and publish, and who had the skills and qualifications to do so, were candid and disturbing, and often less than reasonable - especially if you, like me, were brought up believing in the power of human reason, and the superiority of reason over emotion.

The book delves into our ability to discern truth from falsehood, to decide which to believe or live by, and to remember accurately (or not) the course of our decision making, and the reasons we made those decisions.  As well referenced as any academic text, it is written in concise, accurate language that makes its questions and partial answers (like all good science, each question answered tends to raise many more follow-up questions) comprehensible and well worth reading.

I was going to say "enjoyable" but some of the thought processes and rationales revealed, as well as some aspects of the case studies in the book, are disturbing.  Why am I reviewing and recommending this book on a blog that is largely addressed to writing?

Because it offers some new perspectives on how and why we, and by extension, our characters think and decide and act in the ways we and they do - and the more we understand how our own minds work, the better we can understand our protagonists.

Types of Victory

This is not the first novel I have set myself to writing.  Previous efforts grew tangled and turgid, despite the simplicity and clarity of the initial concept, until, even if an ending was reached, the work as a whole seemed beyond repair or redemption.  It can make the writer's way seem a long, dark road indeed.

For several years, between short stories, drawing, gardening, family, and a host of other occupations (including paid work), and a great deal of procrastination, I have been pushing the story forward, inch by inch - occasionally even a few yards at a time - until, when I was a bit over half way through, I could suddenly see the ending clearly enough to know what territory remained between where I was and where I wanted to be.  When I arrived at that destination it was a feeling of relief as much as one of victory, but still a victory worth having.

It was an excellent moment, seeing the whole picture of the road ahead - no longer lost, but heading downhill towards a destination long sought. 

How much more wonderful is that feeling of relief that washes over you as you lean back in your chair knowing that the paragraph just laid on the page is, indeed, The End.  The Final Words on the Final Page.  Yes, I know - it isn't really over.  There is yet the second trip, and possibly third, or fourth trip still to be made across that same ground - tidying and trimming, even hacking away dense clumps of excess words.  There will be little additions needed as well, to clarify (or confuse, if that's what you want) the situation for the reader.

Then there are the spelling and grammatical errors that you really do not want present on any page when you do find an editor willing to have a look at your precious creation - nope, the journey seems far from over; and yet the relief remains.  You took an idea and a bucket full of words, scattered them across hundreds of pages - pushed and pulled at the resulting sentences and paragraphs - and so often wondered if you could really cross the finish line with something that wouldn't need consigning to the rubbish bin as soon as you got there.

Today, though, has been a different kind of victory; a victory in the form of a Second Draft complete and tidy in it's plot and style.

No feeling of relief this time, just unalloyed pleasure at the creation emerging from the raw materials.

It is a victory that suddenly makes other victories seem possible - time to go back, perhaps, to some of those other ideas that I thought so good then, and start afresh upon a new road, towards another destination.