Imagine or Die

I’m attending Readercon this year for the second time. What a great con! For people interested in reading (and writing) speculative fiction, this is the con to attend. There aren’t many tracks compared to, oh, say, Worldcon–but all the tracks have to do with stories. And the folks attending, as you might imagine for a con devoted to literature, are literate. Also intelligent, friendly, and interesting to be around.

But, about the topic of this post. On Thursday night, Barry Longyear gave a one-and-a-half-hour presentation on “the care and feeding of imagination, how to unleash it and let it run.” What he showed us was, essentially all the background research he did to write his current book series, Confessions of a Confederate Vampire. In addition to copious background material on every character, real and fictitious, he has done meticulous research–historical, factual, visual, tactile, acoustic, gustatory and olfactory (where applicable) on every aspect of Confederate life and every place where his characters ever were. We’re talking hundreds and hundreds of pages and images and (where applicable) objects ranging from bullets to hard tack. He even learned to play a banjo and to pick out songs of the period.

I was so awed by the incredible depth of his research that it took me about the next hour to realize that he hadn’t talked about imagination at all.

What he did is to lead us to the door that opens into the silent, indescribable numinous space where imagination dwells and point beyond where words fail.

Thank you, Mr. Longyear, for the inspiration.

Views near Golden Grove

How wonderful to be back on the island this week!

We arrived on Monday on the 7pm ferry. This time of year, that means we reached the house still in time to see the sunset. Oh, these long days of summer!

Despite weather forecasts predicting clouds, showers, thunderstorms, rain heavy at times, humma humma yadda yadda, we had a perfectly glorious sunset, one of those sunsets made even better by an unsettled skyful of clouds.

Mt. Auburn Cemetery

I took my mother to Mt. Auburn Cemetery last week at her request to see the graves of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Isabella Stewart Gardner. She had a map from the Boston Globe that was–I guess I shouldn’t say that it was criminally inaccurate. Let me say rather that it wasn’t sufficient to actually find these graves. With a 91-year-old woman in tow on a hot summer’s day, the map was particularly insufficient.

The cemetery, however, was astonishingly beautiful. And interesting. I confess here that I’m not particularly interested in seeing the final resting places of notables of New England’s last century (or two). In many cases, the people we’d never heard of were more interesting (based on their memorials) than those we had. But the trees were more noteworthy than those of most arboretums. And the gravestone art–we could have wandered looking at interesting tombstones all day, if we’d had all day to do it in.

Which we didn’t.

Today we returned with a better map.

I became fascinated by those stones that showed a draped object. Mostly vases, but it began to seem that almost anything might be portrayed as draped and carved in stone. I didn’t have my camera with me that first day, but today I captured a few. Here are a small number of vases (the most popular), a sheaf of wheat, and a broken column.

And yes, we found Isabella Stewart Gardner (in a family crypt) and threw in Winslow Homer for good measure (tombstone not as art-noteworthy as his paintings, but then he wasn’t the one who designed or selected the tombstone).

I could make a coffee-table book of the trees, if no one has done that yet. Oh, the breathtaking trees! For now, I’ll show only an unexpected Dawn Redwood.

Neurolinguistic Programming

Today, my guest post about neurolinguistic programming (NLP)–and its usefulness for writers–appears on writer Jagi Lamplighter’s blog. NLP ties together speech patterns, unconscious subliminal actions and reactions, neurological processing, psychology, and self- and organizational improvement. Heady stuff–and fun.

Also, if anyone wants to know the true story about how I decided which dress to wear at the wedding, you’ll find it in that post.

Check it out!

Views near Golden Grove

Happy summer solstice! The sun has reached the northernmost point in its arc and will now slowly begin rising and setting farther and farther to the south. Summer is here, and on the island that means sweet flowers and mown grass; beach weather; and long, languid afternoons and evenings on the deck as the sun sets.

We worked hard all spring to get the house in peak shape for the season. Next week we get to relax as we hope our guests do and just enjoy the season. Well, at least I hope Dan will relax a little…

Here’s a photo from our visit earlier this month.

Alien Space-Cat from Mars

What with all the travel, we fell behind in brushing our mostly-Maine-coon cat Amber this spring. The knots wouldn’t come out any more with a brush, and Amber won’t sit still for a scissors. So the only thing left to do was to take him for professional grooming. And so, day before yesterday, poor unhappy Amber was transported to our nearby local “Pet Resort and Spa” for a lion cut.

Well, I did tell them to use the unscented shampoo. Really.

But whether it’s his new ‘do or his fresh, clean smell, Gwenny doesn’t recognize Amber any more. Gwenny is a Russian Blue less than half Amber’s size. “Who let this alien creature into the house?” she growls. “Get him out! Go away! Back to wherever he came from! This is *my* territory! Mine!”

She won’t let him in the same room with her. When the yowling gets too intolerable, I have to separate them.

Amber seems to find this confusing. He’s learned over the last thirteen years not to be afraid of Gwenny, and it’s probably been almost a decade since she acted this hostile. “Who, me?” he wonders. “Wazzup with this?”

Views near Golden Grove

Just five days from now, at 7:28am, the sun will reach its northernmost point along the ecliptic. Summer will officially begin, and oddly enough this year we have a few scattered unrented weeks during the season. The savvy reader will surmise that we are willing to negotiate a price (*) and will consider what a special vacation is a week on the island. Particularly this time of the year, when the sun is high in the sky and the island is full of the fragrance of flowers.

Meanwhile, we the owners are no fools. If the house is sitting idle, we will find a way to get there.

(*) Our managers, Ballard Hall Real Estate, can be reached at (401) 466-8883. No more self-serving advertisements, I promise!