2010: The Year of Transformations

Transformations, yes. But not so many sendouts, therefore not so many publication credits. Still, transformations are worthwhile. Here are some of the ones I've gone through this year:

• I was transformed into a writer of opera librettos (libretti?), doing one adaptation of one of my stories, and one from-scratch libretto.


• I was transformed into a writing teacher, giving several speculative-fiction-writing workshops for various target groups, and running an ongoing weekly workshop for academic writers. I think this counts as turning me into a teacher as well as a writer (as opposed to a writer who occasionally teaches). I'm happy about this: I love teaching. Helps me keep my own writing sharper, too.


• I was transformed into a grad student (again). This time for a Ph.D., which (I'm finding) is quite a bit more severe a transformation than the one I underwent for my master's degree.


• I was transformed into a fencer! Yes, I actually started fencing in 2009, but this was the year I competed in a tournament and actually won a medal (bronze, long-time followers of this blog will remember). That was another profound transformation for me!


• This year also saw the completion of my transformation from fan to writer: I actually gave a reading and moderated a panel at WorldCon (as opposed to just attending them). I'm happy about this, too: I can give back to the community on which I depend to keep me in touch with readers, colleagues, and friends.


• At the very eleventh hour of the year (well, not literally the eleventh hour, that's on New Year's Eve, but close enough), I was transformed into a trumpet player when my husband gave me a trumpet for Christmas! Now I just have to learn how to play it....

Enough transformations for one year? Perhaps so. What will 2011 bring?

Attention, Wollongong and Sydney peeps!

On stage together again at last: Margaret Dunleavy and Houston Dunleavy, in an all-new production of Much Ado about Nothing, by William Shakespeare! (The so-called "lead roles" are played by other worthy actors, but you and I both know that Margaret and Houston are the real reason to come and see the show.)

It's in the Wollongong Botanic Garden, which is really cool, because you can bring a picnic and see some terrific theatre!

Some of the fondest memories of my life have been culture picnics: concerts at Wolf Trap, Memorial Day and Labor Day concerts on the National Mall, folk festivals, the now-long-gone Sisterfire music festivals — and, yes, the occasional Shakespeare play. It's a chance to get some really nice food together (no need to spend a lot of money — a simple, chilled, pasta-and-pesto salad can be profoundly good in such a setting), get some really nice friends together, slather on the bug repellent, and head off for an evening enjoying food for body, mind, and soul.

Sound good? Book on 4229 1088 or http://www.trybooking.com/KDU!

Christmas wistfulness

Once upon a time, everybody's beliefs were everybody's business. This was not maybe so good, as it led to a lot of conflict, shaming, disrespect, disempowerent, despair, and death.

For a relatively brief period of time (say, the Enlightenment to about 10 years ago), most of the time most people considered beliefs to be the business of the person who held them (or didn't, but still, no business of anybody else's).

These days, everyone's beliefs are everyone's business again, and it's still maybe not so good. Atheists, in particular, seem to be joining the bigotry party with a glee that is no less than deeply alarming. You'd think they'd be above such things, given that their argument seems to be that belief in God causes human failings. That people are greedy, selfish, devoid of compassion, spiteful, arrogant, whatever, because they believe in God. I have to say, I see people who are these things everywhere, professing and denying all sorts of beliefs. The argument does not have evidence to back it up. If it were demonstrably true, I'd be able to agree that they had a point, that belief in God is harmful to humanity, and that perhaps it ought to be minimized. But as it is, I can only go so far as to see that others' belief in God is distasteful to those who say it is distasteful. (And frankly, I wish they'd keep their distaste to themselves, because I don't think it's any of my business.)

Some people like to think that "Enlightenment" meant that people became enlightened that there was no God. Me, I think that one of the most enlightened things about the Enlightenment was respect for individual differences. Including differences of belief and opinion.

Last fencing for the year

Tonight was the last night of fencing at my club for the year. Alas! But at least I got to hear what has become one of my most favoritest holiday traditions: hearing Ted play jazzy Christmas numbers on the piano in the corner while the swords clang and the cries of "Touché" ring out!

This new tradition brings me to the realization that this is my second Christmas as a fencer — I've been fencing for over a year now! And I still absolutely love it. Never tire of it. Never resent it. I'm never, ever bored at fencing. (In contrast, I am often, perhaps even usually, bored by the concept of team sports. Even though I don't mind having the cricket on in the background while I'm doing other things.)

I wish all of you a fantastic holiday season full of love, joy, adventure, and swords. (Maybe not so literal a representation of the Christmas message, but as a metaphor, swords work. No, really. Think about it.)

More holiday mayhem

Hey, y'all — it's a Christmas season more than usually hectic for me. The Ph.D. is picking up pace, I've been doing a fair bit of editing, the summer job has been quite time-consuming, and — yes! — I've actually been doing some writing!

There is still some polishing to do on the libretto for the Dancing Mice opera, but Houston is cranking out the music for it at a rate of knots. Moreover, we've written yet another opera: only ten minutes long, but we have great hopes for it. (I should clarify: the libretto is done, and Houston is currently working on the music.) From the notes I'm hearing from the next room, it's going to be a little ripper of a piece.

It's more than a little challenging, handing a script to a composer. Who knows what they'll do with it? Will they think the funny bits are funny? Will they recognize the sad bits or the thoughtful bits, and will their music reflect that? Or will it plow through all your beautifully crafted words, obscuring their meaning with florid and overwrought Wagnerian chords? You just have to take a deep breath and let the composer have a go. And hope your script is (a) good, (b) clear, and (c) inspiring. And that the composer is truly collaborative. None of these is necessarily a sure thing.

Having provided you with a momentary glimpse into the apprehension that for me is a steady state these days, I will leave you (there are more cookies that need to be baked, so that I may bring them to the last night of fencing for the year tomorrow). Even though I cannot post the cookies here on the blog for you to have some, I can at least give you something: this link about how to write fantasy that will absolutely slay the editors (from Hannah Paduch via Bryan Cutler).

Pell-mell

Yowie. Today alone, I edited a paper for a client, made the season's first batch of Christmas cookies, did a ton of catch-up cleaning in the kitchen, attended a fine concert by the Sutherland Shire Choral Society (at which they performed, among other works, Houston's and my Four Christmas Carols), and did a chunk of work on my Ph.D. If I get time later tonight (and it's already nearly 9 p.m.), I also need to work on a short-script project. Trying to fit in the sound edits to a story for Outlandish Voices (one of mine, this time, believe it or not) and — oh, yeah — the cookbook project are probably going to have to wait. As will some refinement of one of the scenes in the Dancing Mice opera.

Tomorrow there is no respite. I have a full-time summer job for which I must commute to Sydney's western suburbs (and back) each day, and that includes tomorrow. Then more edits, more Ph.D. work, more writing. Maybe the sound editing. I confess that weeknight cooking has become less of a priority since the summer job started (good thing Houston and Margaret are both quite self-sufficient in the kitchen).

The Ph.D. is intensely frustrating. I'm doing a lot of reading, and it's a hydra: each article I read points to five or six others that I absolutely must follow up. And each of them, another five or six. But I'm actually not unhappy per se about that: it's the kind of work that is intensely satisfying, even while it's frustrating. Yes, I realize these two things seem contradictory. That's the way it goes around here at the moment.