Category: The Writer’s Craft

The trials and tribulations of being a writer.

Spark 11: Giving Creativity a Jump Start

After the inspiration what do you see?
Some writing, and magic or a dancing bee–
But it all starts with a nudge or a lark
That’s right, sometimes its all about Spark!

So in the last post I mentioned Spark! an organization that encourages artists of all kinds to inspire others. It’s a quick ten day process. First two artists are paired up and then exchange an old piece of work that serves as the others inspiration. After ten days a new item is produced based on that “inspiration piece”.

I was paired up with a photographer, and her inspiration piece was a fantastic image of an old barn that seemed to have a story all its own. The written piece I gave her was a brief section of my National Novel Writing Month project called The Remnant.

Today we posted the results of the project–and I figured I would show, once again, what comes after the inspiration.

Old Barn & It Has A Face

Meriosis and The Remnant/Transgression

I am working on two new posts for the next few weeks one that talks about The King’s Speech (and that ever revolving door of Real vs. Reel) and the other reflects on two recent episodes of This American Life.

Get in Touch With Your Soulfull Self

I know for New Years I said I would try to go to a new exhibit every month — exhibitions that are off my well beaten path.

Ah the best laid plans.

In January my plans to visit the Udvar Hazy Center in Chantilly were thwarted by weather, but I’ll figure out a way to get there for “January” sometime in February/March. For this month I attended a co-worker’s poetry/written word event at Old Town Alexandria’s Torpedo Factory. The assignment (which was partly a SPARK! event) was to look at an exhibition Mixing Bowl: Immigration & Diversity in America and produce a piece that reflected the inspiration. The pieces that were performed were evocative and full of incredible imagery and emotion invoking personal stories of familiar pasts.

One story spoke of a boy at Ellis Island learning about his family’s history–a history that was his by adoption rather than birth; another of of a woman traveling to gain a glimpse of her grandmother.  There was a piece that looked at today’s immigration stories, of becoming a permanent resident, of crawling your way up into the American Dream–and one more that looked from the outside in–from the lens of a DMV worker. All immigrant experiences, just in different times–and different places.

The inspiration came from the art that surrounded us. One piece was filled with butterflies fluttering beyond the canvas, along the walls and floors, obscuring and revealing text; while another was like a still from a movie–a man, dressed in a white shirt and black pants gazing quietly out amidst a subdued cocktail party. The largest installation included three hanging sheets upon which was projected the quiet silhouettes of figures embracing in farewell (or hello!). Then there was the view from what may have been a detention cell made entirely out of tape, and the doll–crying pearls of tears.

Art begets Art. Poetry begets Poetry.  One begets the other. Each told the story of immigration, of our Mixing Bowl from a different perspective. One through visceral visuals, the other through expressive expressions in the form of words. All stories that come from real people from yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Mixing Bowl will run until February 27, 2011 in the Target Gallery at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, VA (which is one of the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s 2011 Dozen Distinctive Destinations).

Note: I will be participating in the next iteration of “SPARK!,” and will be getting in touch (as one of my co-workers friends described it) with my soulfull self.

The Noble Six Hundred

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints in the sands of time

Last September during my trip to India I found myself in conversation with my aunt, a former principal and history teacher. We talked about our favorite periods in history (mine: colonial America and the Napoleonic era), and those moments of inspiration when everything clicked. There was also the discussion about current events, and how we can see glimpses of past actions in our current situations (with the nod to complexity).

We also discovered our mutual love for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow–more specifically the Pslam of Life.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

The poem talks about living life to the fullest, that even though each life ended in death, our goal should not include blindly walking towards the end, without fully making our mark, without placing our footprints in the sand…

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again

She gave me a list of her other favorite poems (If, by Kipling; The Mountain and the Squirrel, Emerson; Wander-Thirst by Gould;  Cargoes by Masefield;  and a childhood love-the Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Tennyson), and with each one I was struck by the incredible imagery that invoked times past.

Like the poem Cargoes by John Masefield which talks of Stately Spanish galleon’s that drip through the tropics by the palm-green shores, and how it is juxtaposed with a Quinquirme of Nineveh from distant Ophir or the Dirty British coaster with a slat-caked smoke stack.

When we write about the past nothing expresses the feeling of the moment than a quotation from someone who was, well, in the moment–but poetry can capture another perspective. Often invoking high emotion it reveals how bystanders react to events around them–as in The Charge of the Light Brigade. Written in honor of a cavalry of British Forces during the Crimean War (1854-1856) that charged opposition forces had casualties of 247 out of 637. “The Noble Six Hundred” they were called–and to this day–their acts are memorialized in a poem read by students all across the world.

When can their glory fade?
O the wilde charge they made!
All the world wonder’d
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade
Noble six hundred

~*~

…and just because I love it so.  Here is Wander-Thirst by Gerald Gould

Beyond the east the sunrise; Beyond the west the sea
And East and West the Wander-Thirst that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness to bid me say goodbye,
For the seas call, and the stars call, and oh! The call of the sky!

I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,
But a man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide, a star;
And there’s no end to voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the rivers call, and the road calls, and oh! The call of a bird!

Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away
And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun,
And the white road and the sky.
~*~

Some off-site blog posts

If This House Could Talk…What Would It Say?
…And that’s the Beauty of the Open Mic

…is that a five or a four? And some losses

 

It is a historian’s dream to walk into an archive and look at primary source documentation that no one has touched in hundreds (and sometimes thousands) of years. Making that discovery, that connection that no one else has made before—brings a level of credibility that elevates.

But if that dream is based on a lie….would it be worth it?

I’m talking about, of course, the startling revelation a few days ago that a civil war historian brought a fountain pen into the National Archives, some thirteen years ago, and edited one of President Abraham Lincoln’s pardons. Just a small change…..after all, what does it matter if the pardon was signed in 1864 instead of 1865. Just one year from April 14, 1864 to April 14, 1865—and viola, in a blink of an eye that single pardon, becomes the final act of a presidency, for that night Abraham Lincoln made his way to Ford’s Theatre and the end of his life.

At all levels of education we talk often about the lure of plagiarism, of taking the easy way out—because the ends justify the means—but in the end you lost more than you’ve gained. Credibility. You may have gained it on an external level, but some part of you will always know that it wasn’t deserved. That discovery, that connection—that priceless document does not belong to you, because history is not something that the historian owns. We do not have the right to change what we see before us on a whim—since in the end that discovery, that connection is for more than just you.

As students we discuss the meaning of truth, and how sometimes truth in history can be as amorphous and intangible as a foggy night. That finding the truth and determining a historical fact are, for the historian, an aspiration. We can know that the bombing of Pearl Harbor happened on a particular day, but it won’t be possible to know what was going through the minds of those who died. Our fact, our truth, is only as good as the sources left behind.

So the question I have for our forger, our so-called historian, is—who do you think history serves?

All of this came to a head on a particularly difficult two days—one which, as I wrote most of this, included a loss of electricity thanks to the heavy snow coming down here in Northern VA.

For my M.A. in history I attended American University where I concentrated on a subfield called public history. One such professor was Robert Griffith—who as my department chair represented the epitome of what a historian is. In the university setting he was supportive and engaging to every student that came through his office. Between my first and second years of graduate school I found myself attending a three month internship in London at the British Museum. As part of that internship I got to work with the Lifelong Learning Program—the education division dedicated to adult learning. My project for the summer was to develop a way to exhibit the work of a group of older adults who had come to the museum, looked at objects, and developed a walking tour for visitors. This small, poster exhibition was going to be on display in the education center for all to see—but unfortunately well after I had returned to the states.

Between advisors, I went to Dr. Griffith and he immediately gave me information to facilitate a trip back to the UK to see the project come to its fruition. It was a small act of support, but that is what made being a student of Robert Griffith so great.

On Tuesday afternoon I learned that Dr. Griffith passed away. I, for one, will miss him.

I think his death was especially hard as it was preceded by knowledge of a fellow graduate student from AU—a friend on Facebook now, but someone who I had spent those long hours before, during, and after class with. I hadn’t kept in as much touch after graduation, but learning about his passing made me remember just how wonderful a person he was.

And then there is David Larsen, a vision in the field of interpretation–someone who I never had direct contact with, but who you heard about from time to time. I don’t think I would do a good job describing his contribution to the historical world and the field of public history—so I urge you to head over to the memorial page on Facebook to learn more.

I guess my point is that all three of these individuals left a mark on the world, with their family, fellow students, and profession. All three of them, in their lives, exemplify that the study of history is about more than just the act of discovery. We will miss them all.

 

Edit: Here is the memorial page for Dr. Griffith.

This Was Yours From The Beginning

Every so often the year starts with a bang, and last night sixty-two high school seniors rocked it.

For the last four years I have worked with an organization called the Posse Foundation, which works with universities across the country (and students in seven cities) to provide full tuition scholarships for the next generation of leaders. It started when one of Deborah Bial’s students told her that “I never would have dropped out of college if I had my posse with me,” and today the organization is founded on the “belief that a small, diverse group of talented students—a Posse—carefully selected and trained, can serve as a catalyst for increased individual and community development.” Many of you may have first heard about the organization last year when President Obama donated part of his Nobel Prize winnings to this worthy cause.

Last night was the 2011 Posse celebration ceremony for this years scholarship recipients. It is the moment when each Posse meets supporters from their future college/university (the DC schools are: Lafayette, Bucknell, Pepperdine, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Sewanee (University of the South), and Grinnell) and rousing cheers from other Posse’s currently at said universities. They are, after all, about to become a part of the family.

This year we not only heard about an amazing alumni Loubens Theork who graduated from Hamilton College and started a scholarship program for Haitian children (and he will be using 10k from this year’s Alumni Achievement Award towards this program), but we learned that every single one of the sixty-two students has already proven themselves to be leaders in their communities, schools and families. What is even more remarkable is that fifty percent of these students will now be the first in their families to attend college.

I know that is something that a lot of people throw around, but even from my seat in the back I could feel the pride in the room. As parents and grandparents called out in joy for their daughter, grandson, brother, sister these men and women represented, as Frank Sesno the Posse D.C. Advisory Board Chair stated, that something that had gone right.

My role in Posse is after the celebration, when Posse preps students for their entry into the collegiate environment. For four years I’ve worked as a writing coach and have found it fulfilling, exhilarating and have developed my own sense of pride for these students who continue to work hard even after they graduate.

This is what I find so inspiring about this organization. The relationship with the students does not stop with the money, but rather continues well beyond the four year college experience. A full support system. I always walk away from this ceremony wanting to be more and to do more.  One of the university liasons from Grinnell told these students that this honor “was yours from the beginning.”  And he was right, because that statement emphasizes that every accomplishment we have ever recieved is a consequence of our families and our own decisions along the way. We make it happen.

One final thought. The motto of Lafayette College comes from the words of the 19th year old Marquis de Lafayette who left France to fight for the colonial revolutionaries. When asked why he chose to fight he answered“Cur Non”, or “Why Not?”. So this year, anytime you are faced with a challenge, or anytime I am faced with a choice I’m going to remember these sixty-two students and ask–Why Not and try to make a difference.

Congratulations Posse Class of 2011!

Run as Fast as You Can

Over the weekend I ran the  Army Ten-Miler (in honor of my friends who currently serve here and overseas–that’s you CC & AE).

Here are some cool things about the race….

1. Running without my ipod on a beautiful day can be exhilarating.

2. That Batman and Glinda the Good Witch can exist in the same dimension.

3. The day after, walking down stairs is more painful than walking up stairs.

4. That music does make each mile shorter  (thanks to all the bands- Paul VI your music made Mile 6 bearable).

5. The Rocky theme does pump you up.

6. Gatorade rules.

7. That it is possible to run from the Pentagon to Foggy Bottom and down to the Capitol in 2 hours and 10 minutes (13 minute pace).

8. Carbs are really, really good when it’s all over.

9. That having someone to yell encouraging words at you really does make you feel great.

10. The last 50 yards are the hardest, but once you cross the finish line its all worth it.