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May 11th, 2012
09:53 am - My Maurice Sendak Story
A long time ago when I was a child, Maurice Sendak came to sign books at the University of Connecticut's bookstore, the Co-op. Desperately gripping my copy of Where the Wild Things Are, I didn't notice that I was the only kid in a very long line of college students. Maurice Sendak noriced, however, and when it was my turn he said this to me:
"Because you're the youngest person here, I'm going to tell you a secret. I'm going to sign your book with the word BOO! to remind you that the next book I'm writing is a *scary* book, one about a girl whose baby brother is stolen away by goblins. And I'm only telling *you* that today, so you remember that."
The book was Outside Over There, of course.
Years later when I saw what was soon to become my young adulthood favorite movie, Labyrinth, I was once again happily reminded of my encounter with Mr. Sendak.
(for those of you who--foolishly--have never seen this movie, it is about a girl whose baby brother is stolen away by goblins. Jim Henson credits Maurice Sendak at the end of the movie, and the book Outside Over There appears in the main character's room).
That copy of Where the Wild Things Are has traveled with me to every place I have ever moved to. I bought a new copy for my children--mine is falling apart--but take down the old one and show it to them, and tell them the story of how I met the man who made the Wild Things, and what a wonderful man he was.
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January 26th, 2012
10:46 am - Getting Back to Work
Scarlet fever. My kids had scarlet fever over the holidays, which I sort of thought went the way of ague and nervous fits and gout and chilblains and all those other 19th century diseases. Apparently it’s just another manifestation of the strep bacteria, and I got it in my eyeball, which I also didn’t know was possible.
Between all of that, my own sickness, my, uh, 30th birthday, the holidays and all the usual end-of-the-old-year-beginning-of-the-new-one stuff, I lost about three weeks of writing.
And after three weeks away from my latest book, I had no desire to go back. None. It just seemed like a whole lot of work.
(And writing, if you’ve missed any of my previous posts about it, really is just tons and tons of work. It is not sitting around eating bonbons and waiting to get inspired and then dashing off a few pages and heading to the spa)
Nothing was getting me inspired. Nothing could induce me to sit down and type. Not even a muffin.* The roadblocks and negativity built up to the point where I began to wonder if maybe it was a terrible book, or the muse had left me, or maybe I needed to take a break for a couple of years.
Finally I gave myself a drop-dead date to begin again and opened the computer and stared at what I had previously written.
Oh, yeah.
I remember it now.
As I read over what I had written it all came back. The world—every detail— seamlessly engulfed me. I slipped into the skin of the main character with no problem. The dialogue between her and one of the more comic characters made me smile.
As mentioned in a previous post (http://lizbraswell.livejournal.com/104044.html), if I’m writing well, I am completely transported that other world.
And this world I was rediscovering was a nice one. One very much like our own with a bit more action and supernatural happenings. And tentacles.
So I’m writing again, warp speed. Glad to be back.
I just needed to be reminded how much I enjoyed it.
*My absolute favorite quote about writing, from the movie Adaptation:
“To begin... To begin... How to start? I'm hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin. Okay, so I need to establish the themes. Maybe a banana-nut. That's a good muffin.”
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December 20th, 2011
10:17 pm - The Days That Aren't
So the Ancient Egyptians had a lunar calendar, meaning they divided the year up by obviously observable lunar months. Which as any modern, western, stuck-up, solar, scientific civilization will tell you just don’t work, ‘cause our year is solar, and an actual year is five days longer than a ‘lunar one.’
Unlike modern, western, stuck-up or other uptight civilizations, the Egyptians didn’t worry about it too much. They slapped five or six days on to the end of the year and made it into a holiday. The days which aren’t, or the days upon the year-—a big party week both civil and religious.
So I am taking the end of this year as the days that aren’t. I aren’t worrying about writing. I aren’t worrying about long term goals or what sort of writer I really am or aren’t. I am just living, and enjoying myself, and shopping and wrapping and crafting and making cookies and watching the winter afternoon sun set in a cloud white sky without getting too depressed about it.
(And there has been partying—my sister and husband surprised me with one of the best, er, thirtieth birthday parties ever. My curmudgeonly self was stunned by the number of friends from all eras of my life that had kindly taken time out of this the busiest season to celebrate my birthday with me. My mom even came down on the train to watch the kids! And then there was the Bowie Ball afterparty… but I’m getting off track)
So I’ll let my usual tidings of Christmakwanzakah drop this year and wish you all time to spend some days that aren’t, and enjoy the time that you have with the people you love.
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December 13th, 2011
05:37 pm - Let Me Tell You a Story About George Takei...
...only one of a bunch I have, actually. I wound up marrying the man I did because of him, but that's a tale for another time.
Back when I produced video games, I did a thing called Captain's Chair, for which we shot video of five major Star Trek captains. Interviews with the actors were hidden as Easter Eggs here and there throughout the product.
So I show up at George's home at *SIX A.M.* with a nice but rowdy video crew...
...and he shows up at the door with tea and cookies for us, in case we didn't have time for breakfast.
No joke.
The tea and cookies came out again later, when it was definitely time for second breakfast.
Just a really, really nice man with a fascinating life story.
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October 14th, 2011
10:18 am - Yelled at for Not Blogging! (and rightly so)
Ok, I've been bad about this. Some of this I would like to blame on Comic Con. Some of it has to do with the hacking of certain social posting sites. I will try to be better.
In the meantime, read my tweets and face, uh, books:
Liz Braswell
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September 14th, 2011
09:42 am - A Game of Life(time)
Refusing to shell out silly money on a stand, I am writing at a coffeeshop with my ipad2 supported by an apple.
No, like, a real apple. Macoun. Bought at the farmer's market. It is the perfect height. Since I am in union square and not north brooklyn, I doubt anyone with a lomo is going to stop and snap a photo of the delicious irony.
Let me tell you about my life lately.
My son got into a free gifted and talented school--one of the best in the country. It is Across the River.
Because I couldn't bear to see another child cry upon separation, I am putting my daughter through a pre-pre-pre-k Gradual Separation program, which is also Across the River.
If you add in gymnastics, one after school, and some music classes, you can easily imagine the Lifetime movie my life has become. Pickups, drop offs, playmates, scheduling, menus, lunches...all which would be completely impossible without our awesome babysitter. All of which also costs a bizzatload of money.
I want you to picture the freeze-frame that comes to your mind first and hold it there: frazzled b-rated actress with highlighted honey blond hair digging frantically through a giant purse, coffee nearby, keys dangling precariously out of her other hand, while one or more small children do adorably horrible things in the background.
That's me.
Unlike the Lifetime character, I am of course swearing like a sailor and have several pieces of expensive electronic equipment in my backpack that are supposed to help me write. Like this ipad2. And a bag for the farmer's market, for holding produce. Like the apple currently supporting my Ipad2.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" my son asked me on this morning's commute.
"A writer," I answered honestly. "Someday, I'd like to be a writer."
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September 7th, 2011
03:59 pm - Goodbye to Summer
 I am not usually one to mark time in materialistic ways, but Winter was so awful and cold that I actually bought a bag, a fancy-ish, colorful bag (for me), in anticipation of Spring.
But school starts tomorrow, and it's rainy, and Scott went back to work after two weeks of fun and canning (jam, tomato sauce, etc. It's what he does). So I am cleaning out my pretty bag and getting ready to pack it away...
What a crazy fast summer it was!
*From the premiere of Chloe King to the season finale...
*The Nine Lives of Chloe King spends a happy eleven weeks on the NYTimes bestseller list!
*Vacation in Cape Cod, no writing allowed. I didn't even use metaphors--too much like writing.
*Ok, I kept a journal in Cape Cod. I'm a writer, remember?
*Earthquake.
*Hyper-preparations for the hurricane in New York that wasn't.
*Complete devastation in Vermont for the hurricane that was.
--as I've urged before, if you've ever enjoyed leaf-peeping, skiing or riding in Southern Vermont, please go to www.vtrecovery.com and donate. Wilmington and the areas around it were almost destroyed, and need your help recovering from the disaster.
*Charlie Sheen mostly quiet
*Fun, breezy days at Coney Island, Ocean Beach, the Aquarium, sailing aboard the East River Ferry, eating our fill at the Smorgasburg, fishing, getting ice cream from everyone--Mr. Softee to van leeuwen to Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory [made in Greenpoint, not DUMBO, byb]--and generally enjoying everything New York has to offer. Cheaply.
*With a second to last day at the American Museum of Natural History and last day on a playdate with a friend, we start to hunker down into fall routines.
Thank Chthulhu. 'Cause seriously, I know I owe lots of your fan mail a response, and I got to get back to some serious writing.
With metaphors and all.
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August 9th, 2011
10:07 am - Grace Phipps' Teen Reads
So as a finalist in the Nine Paths to Chloe game, I got to ask Grace Phipps a question and have her answer by video!
My question was, of course, book related: what was her favorite book when she was 16?
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August 3rd, 2011
10:40 am - Why We Write
Ok, and now the Deep Stuff.
I had originally postulated that for me there was only one real reason for writing (more on that another time). But in one of the in-between session sessions I had a really interesting discussion with two other authors about writing as an addictive drug.
Hear me out—-until we talked about it I never, ever would have described it that way. Writing is lonely and hard. It’s not a fun job, like taking care of some celeb’s pet elephant. Lloyd Alexander once said offhandedly that writing was ‘the hardest thing he ever did.’ I wanted to hug him. I always assumed it was easier and funner for everyone else.
But the truth is that if you’re in a good groove, writing is as close to living in another world as you will ever get. It is more real than movies, than TV, than reading a book. You feel what your characters feel, hear what’s going on in the world and say the words before they come out of people’s mouths. Reading comes very close…but it’s still not precisely the same.
I know I’ve done well when characters start playing scenes in my head that have nothing to do with the book, scenes that I will never write down—-or will write and then cut out later. When the world has taken on a life of its own. I’ve done well when I stop each writing session sadly, or finish a book in a state of grey depression, knowing I won’t re-enter that particular world again. I’ve done well when I pick up a finished book and am instantly transported back to that world… but even then the feeling is a little stale, crystallized, complete: I have a sad feeling that’s as far as that world can grow, its story is told.
(which is one of the reasons I delay for as long as possible before even jotting down plot notes for a story. I feel like as soon as I do, the world begins to enter stasis, the laws of its universe are set, and it settles down to the path I chose for it)
Asimov wrote a story called ‘Dreaming is a Private Thing’ in which people called dreamers invent dreams for other people to live in. But the occupation changes the dreamers; sometimes they just sit and nod their heads and hum a little, even when in public, even when it’s inappropriate, lost in their work.
It always sounded terribly familiar to me. Maybe being a professional author is just a way of justifying the addiction.
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August 1st, 2011
02:21 pm - RETREAT!
Good gravy, my brain is full.
How Dark is too Dark? What's up with ebooks and Borders? Where do we all want to be in five years? What is the best way to toast a marshmallow?
Usually I have a list of links, great quotes, books and authors to track down when I get back (thanks to the magic of the interwebs, I was reading Chime by Frannie Billingsley about ten minutes after it was read aloud at a session).
Now there's one more thing I am burdened with.
T-SHIRTS.
Oh yes, we are a happy, non-competitive family of clients. But...it might *just* have seemed as if some of us had brought our A-game, obscure-ist, geekiest t-shirts. You know. Just to share. Myself included.
My sister's boyfriend will be getting this one for Christmakwanzakah.
I will be getting this one for me.
My friend Alexis might be receiving this one for her birthday.
Why am I not posting about the deep stuff? Because it's going to take a few days to percolate. And we all know how shy I am about talking about the really deep stuff.
In the upcoming days, I hope to post at least a few books that were on everyone's suggested reading list, including some great ones about the science behind creativity. And maybe, just maybe, a picture of me on a horsie.
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