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Yesterday I thought of editing.
First things first --- early at work yesterday, I was not feeling happy. Actually, what I was feeling was a tightness of the throat and tension of the solar plexus that once upon a time I automatically interpreted as devastating hurt and loneliness. But I had no reason to feel hurt or lonely, so my new coping strategy is to identify physical symptoms simply as physical symptoms, and deal with them that way. But they were bothering me, so I summoned my subconscious to the carpet and demanded why, and more importantly, what it expected me to do about it when it's sending me these feelings in the middle of a shift I am stuck at.
"Suffer?" my subconscious replies cheerfully.
"That was not the answer I was expecting and that is not the answer I am taking," said my conscious self, quoting words a very mixed-up kid once said to the Dark Lord. It says a lot about the Dark Lord that I think I had just stood there with my mouth open when I heard this (yes, writing about people who dominate a room through sheer self-confidence last post reminded me of the Dark Lord yesterday --- but there are many reasons why I most emphatically am not going to pursue him. He doesn't listen to music; that is the actual top reason.)
Well, then, I found that drinking the free hot caffeine solutions provided did ease the choked-up feelings (which makes me wonder for how long I've been doing this, since I've been a tea addict since childhood). So, strangely, did reciting Vysotsky's "Ballad of Love" or my translation thereof (which I am going to quote part of again, because it is still one of the best translations I've ever done, and this is my journal so I quote what I like):
Then at around half-past noon, I started feeling hilariously happy and effervescent. Somehow, the feeling came back, that Everything Will Be All Right, I am at peace again.
On my break, I read the Citizen's Arts and Books --- and they had an article about www.lulu.com that now I cannot get out of my head. I know the perils of vanity presses; and I will still try my manuscripts with professional publishers and agents first, because I want the filter of editors and the proof that someone thinks my novels quality enough to risk money on. However, coming home I checked the website out. Actually, first I slept. I've been running on empty a little too often ever since school and my second job resumed. The ensemble was having their replacement party, yonder at the dance studio, but it was too cold and I was too tired and it was too late for me to make my way there. So I slept. Then I got up and read through most of Lulu's FAQ, and then the forums. I sank once again into the concerns of printing, binding, copyright, and especially layout and typesetting.
I wanted to find out if it will work to typeset a Lulu manuscript in LaTeX. Not only did I find out that yes; I also discovered LyX, which I have never even heard of before (comes from living in mathematical ivory towers.) And I pulled out my copy of Arthur Plotnik's The Elements of Editing and read it through again. Published in the early 1980s, it is horribly dated with respect to the nitty-gritty itself --- computers have changed layout and photo editing beyond recognition --- but its instructions on the actual editor-writer-reader interaction are still as timely as ever.
I confess I stole that copy of the book from my high school newspaper archives, back when I was the editor of my high school newspaper. And the memories came back, of proofreading and layout and the blue lines in Adobe PageMaker, and photo editing and scanning, and...
And nagging volunteer idiots to keep to a fracking deadline while extensions of it burn to ash and, unlike the other clubs I ran, you do not have the terror of the Dark Lord hanging over as a last resort. You can ask them, but you can't instill the compulsion to keep a promise into them from your own soul. That was the thing that broke my heart. That was what made me resolve never, ever to be a leader again.
(ETA: Perhaps it comes back to me now as a sharp reminder of the first time I learned that none of my willpower will force other people to cooperate if they do not want to. No, not all of your love and longing, not all of your wishing and wanting... )
But I know a great many of the skills of editing. And style manuals can be read. And PageMaker skills can be undug and relearned.
Maybe that is the hint of what I should do next year.
In about fifteen minutes, I go to attend a thesis defence. Of a thesis on Chinese relative clauses that last summer I proofread. And edited.
Today I randomly opened a book of spells, which suggested poking a pin into a list of phrases hinting at how my day will go. Having nothing to lose, and miraculously finding a pin handy, I said the words and did so.
I pricked, "The return of hope in success."
First things first --- early at work yesterday, I was not feeling happy. Actually, what I was feeling was a tightness of the throat and tension of the solar plexus that once upon a time I automatically interpreted as devastating hurt and loneliness. But I had no reason to feel hurt or lonely, so my new coping strategy is to identify physical symptoms simply as physical symptoms, and deal with them that way. But they were bothering me, so I summoned my subconscious to the carpet and demanded why, and more importantly, what it expected me to do about it when it's sending me these feelings in the middle of a shift I am stuck at.
"Suffer?" my subconscious replies cheerfully.
"That was not the answer I was expecting and that is not the answer I am taking," said my conscious self, quoting words a very mixed-up kid once said to the Dark Lord. It says a lot about the Dark Lord that I think I had just stood there with my mouth open when I heard this (yes, writing about people who dominate a room through sheer self-confidence last post reminded me of the Dark Lord yesterday --- but there are many reasons why I most emphatically am not going to pursue him. He doesn't listen to music; that is the actual top reason.)
Well, then, I found that drinking the free hot caffeine solutions provided did ease the choked-up feelings (which makes me wonder for how long I've been doing this, since I've been a tea addict since childhood). So, strangely, did reciting Vysotsky's "Ballad of Love" or my translation thereof (which I am going to quote part of again, because it is still one of the best translations I've ever done, and this is my journal so I quote what I like):
Aye, aye, I don't feel romantic love as such. But still, I do know exactly what he means, and he is on to something that I understand there. I sang it softly over the dusty tea shelves.And there are still such fey ones as do
Inhale this mix and breathe it deeply through,
Neither reward nor punishment awaiting ---
They, thinking that they are merely breathing,
Unknowingly catch onto the rhythm
Of another breath, uneven, hesitating...
...
But, though you shout at many in love drowned,
They cannot hear you, however you call.
Gossip and empty chatter keep their count
But blood is mixed in counting them all
And we'll respectfully stand candles round
The beds of those who died for love ne'er seen at all...
Then at around half-past noon, I started feeling hilariously happy and effervescent. Somehow, the feeling came back, that Everything Will Be All Right, I am at peace again.
On my break, I read the Citizen's Arts and Books --- and they had an article about www.lulu.com that now I cannot get out of my head. I know the perils of vanity presses; and I will still try my manuscripts with professional publishers and agents first, because I want the filter of editors and the proof that someone thinks my novels quality enough to risk money on. However, coming home I checked the website out. Actually, first I slept. I've been running on empty a little too often ever since school and my second job resumed. The ensemble was having their replacement party, yonder at the dance studio, but it was too cold and I was too tired and it was too late for me to make my way there. So I slept. Then I got up and read through most of Lulu's FAQ, and then the forums. I sank once again into the concerns of printing, binding, copyright, and especially layout and typesetting.
I wanted to find out if it will work to typeset a Lulu manuscript in LaTeX. Not only did I find out that yes; I also discovered LyX, which I have never even heard of before (comes from living in mathematical ivory towers.) And I pulled out my copy of Arthur Plotnik's The Elements of Editing and read it through again. Published in the early 1980s, it is horribly dated with respect to the nitty-gritty itself --- computers have changed layout and photo editing beyond recognition --- but its instructions on the actual editor-writer-reader interaction are still as timely as ever.
I confess I stole that copy of the book from my high school newspaper archives, back when I was the editor of my high school newspaper. And the memories came back, of proofreading and layout and the blue lines in Adobe PageMaker, and photo editing and scanning, and...
And nagging volunteer idiots to keep to a fracking deadline while extensions of it burn to ash and, unlike the other clubs I ran, you do not have the terror of the Dark Lord hanging over as a last resort. You can ask them, but you can't instill the compulsion to keep a promise into them from your own soul. That was the thing that broke my heart. That was what made me resolve never, ever to be a leader again.
(ETA: Perhaps it comes back to me now as a sharp reminder of the first time I learned that none of my willpower will force other people to cooperate if they do not want to. No, not all of your love and longing, not all of your wishing and wanting... )
But I know a great many of the skills of editing. And style manuals can be read. And PageMaker skills can be undug and relearned.
Maybe that is the hint of what I should do next year.
In about fifteen minutes, I go to attend a thesis defence. Of a thesis on Chinese relative clauses that last summer I proofread. And edited.
Today I randomly opened a book of spells, which suggested poking a pin into a list of phrases hinting at how my day will go. Having nothing to lose, and miraculously finding a pin handy, I said the words and did so.
I pricked, "The return of hope in success."
