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nolawitch58On the work front: we've moved the office. I coordinated the move, and we didn't lose anything. We surely should have pitched a metric fuckload more of crap than we did. Before we left, we had two big blue recycle bins crammed full with lids bulging. I pity the facilities folks who had to schlep those away. People are still pitching crap. I guess it doesn't matter where it gets pitched as long as it gets recycled afterwards.
The new digs are nice. Surprisingly, some domain issues cleared up for a couple of users in the new building. Everyone is happy to have hot water in the restrooms to wash our hands with. The break room is huge and noisy, but they have ice dispensers and numerous working microwaves and sinks to wash containers after eating. The fitness center is fabulous. Because it's free, I signed up and had my first workout this week. Ouch. Muscles not happy. The cubicles are smaller, and we share an open floor plan with MIS. We're having to be quieter, which is a huge shift for some of us.
Dealing with change is what you make it. I'm loving my new space. It's forced me to ditch a bunch of crap I don't really need. I snaked my plant and brought it with me. Once again, I'm in a highrise building with a great view of the river and its scenic wonders. This time, I get the window. I will never get tired of watching traffic on the river. I love the morning sunlight shimmering on the water's surface. I love that I watch the sun rise over the West Bank again.
Drama. I hate it unless it's purely fictional. In my weekly writers' group, we had a person decide to leave this week. "T" was unhappy about some new rules that had to be instituted to deal with our burgeoning size. When your critique group grows to more than a dozen people, it's not effective to continue taking in more and more people. Everyone won't be able to provide the printed copies of their work to more than a dozen people. If you have a short story or a chapter that's fifteen pages, you'd be printing nearly half a ream of paper for fourteen other people. Though most of us recycle and use the reverse sides of each sheet (due to my leadership and big mouth), that's still a lot of supplies. For example, my novel is going to come in at around 300 pages. If the group is at fourteen members, I'd be using 18 reams of paper for two rounds of critiqueing (or 9 if printed on both sides). Drop two or three toner cartridges and electricity costs in the mix and that can get expensive, even though the paper itself isn't.
Another problem "T" had with the rule change was that we encouraged exclusivity. Like that's a bad thing. In order to show their commitment and determination, prospective members have to come and sit through three meetings and submit a writing sample before they can joinn. If we had that rule in place a couple of years ago, there are two people who would have never been accepted. I really don't think we're best utilized providing basic grammar editing. Pervasive use of sentence fragments and the inability to spell and grammar check a piece shows a lack of commitment to the craft in my opinion. We only had one writer with us before the storm who did not use a word processor. He was a retired newspaperman, and I gave him one of my Frankensystems. He couldn't get the hang of the computer, so he did everything on the typewriter and photocopied. He was better with the typewriter, and caught most of his typos before he copied his submissions, than some of these newbies with the latest and greatest version of Microsoft Word. I've even offered to help them set the software to automatically check all that stuff. Gave them work phone number; gave them home phone number. I'm really not that damned scary. Call me. But they didn't. No bloody excuse in my mind.
The hardcore nucleus remains. I'm not going anywhere. Even after I finish Ruxandra, there are other writing projects I've got in my mental pipeline. If a writer isn't pulling his or her weight, or cops an attitude, that's not helpful to the group. There's one person who drives me nuts. He never writes his name on the pieces he returns to me, and he doesn't seem to do more than drop a non sequitor occasionally on the page. He's one of the ones with the basic mechanics problem. The rest of us have toiled over helping him improve his sentence structures, and he still brings in submissions that are infuriatingly crappy. If people improve, it's not a waste of time to try to help them. If they don't, well, those of you who've known me a while realize that eventually I get pissed and dump their asses. Anyway, that's the drama in the weekly group.
The monthly group has not so much drama as growing pains. The original coordinator is moving back to Miami, and the group is down to six. We talked about opening to new members, which is a cool thing if we're selective. Thank the deities, all are in agreement that we don't let just anybody in. One of the concerns voiced at last night's meeting was about what to do if someone turned out not to fit. I suggested concocting a hazing ritual to deter them from pursuing membership any further. Hell, we're writers. We could come up with something really awful, describe it to Mr. or Ms. Ill Suited and scare him or her off. Next meeting we'll have a couple of new people to see how they like us and how we like them. Group dating in a strange sense of the word.
I should update more often so these posts don't become the behemoths they seem to these days. Peace out.
The new digs are nice. Surprisingly, some domain issues cleared up for a couple of users in the new building. Everyone is happy to have hot water in the restrooms to wash our hands with. The break room is huge and noisy, but they have ice dispensers and numerous working microwaves and sinks to wash containers after eating. The fitness center is fabulous. Because it's free, I signed up and had my first workout this week. Ouch. Muscles not happy. The cubicles are smaller, and we share an open floor plan with MIS. We're having to be quieter, which is a huge shift for some of us.
Dealing with change is what you make it. I'm loving my new space. It's forced me to ditch a bunch of crap I don't really need. I snaked my plant and brought it with me. Once again, I'm in a highrise building with a great view of the river and its scenic wonders. This time, I get the window. I will never get tired of watching traffic on the river. I love the morning sunlight shimmering on the water's surface. I love that I watch the sun rise over the West Bank again.
Drama. I hate it unless it's purely fictional. In my weekly writers' group, we had a person decide to leave this week. "T" was unhappy about some new rules that had to be instituted to deal with our burgeoning size. When your critique group grows to more than a dozen people, it's not effective to continue taking in more and more people. Everyone won't be able to provide the printed copies of their work to more than a dozen people. If you have a short story or a chapter that's fifteen pages, you'd be printing nearly half a ream of paper for fourteen other people. Though most of us recycle and use the reverse sides of each sheet (due to my leadership and big mouth), that's still a lot of supplies. For example, my novel is going to come in at around 300 pages. If the group is at fourteen members, I'd be using 18 reams of paper for two rounds of critiqueing (or 9 if printed on both sides). Drop two or three toner cartridges and electricity costs in the mix and that can get expensive, even though the paper itself isn't.
Another problem "T" had with the rule change was that we encouraged exclusivity. Like that's a bad thing. In order to show their commitment and determination, prospective members have to come and sit through three meetings and submit a writing sample before they can joinn. If we had that rule in place a couple of years ago, there are two people who would have never been accepted. I really don't think we're best utilized providing basic grammar editing. Pervasive use of sentence fragments and the inability to spell and grammar check a piece shows a lack of commitment to the craft in my opinion. We only had one writer with us before the storm who did not use a word processor. He was a retired newspaperman, and I gave him one of my Frankensystems. He couldn't get the hang of the computer, so he did everything on the typewriter and photocopied. He was better with the typewriter, and caught most of his typos before he copied his submissions, than some of these newbies with the latest and greatest version of Microsoft Word. I've even offered to help them set the software to automatically check all that stuff. Gave them work phone number; gave them home phone number. I'm really not that damned scary. Call me. But they didn't. No bloody excuse in my mind.
The hardcore nucleus remains. I'm not going anywhere. Even after I finish Ruxandra, there are other writing projects I've got in my mental pipeline. If a writer isn't pulling his or her weight, or cops an attitude, that's not helpful to the group. There's one person who drives me nuts. He never writes his name on the pieces he returns to me, and he doesn't seem to do more than drop a non sequitor occasionally on the page. He's one of the ones with the basic mechanics problem. The rest of us have toiled over helping him improve his sentence structures, and he still brings in submissions that are infuriatingly crappy. If people improve, it's not a waste of time to try to help them. If they don't, well, those of you who've known me a while realize that eventually I get pissed and dump their asses. Anyway, that's the drama in the weekly group.
The monthly group has not so much drama as growing pains. The original coordinator is moving back to Miami, and the group is down to six. We talked about opening to new members, which is a cool thing if we're selective. Thank the deities, all are in agreement that we don't let just anybody in. One of the concerns voiced at last night's meeting was about what to do if someone turned out not to fit. I suggested concocting a hazing ritual to deter them from pursuing membership any further. Hell, we're writers. We could come up with something really awful, describe it to Mr. or Ms. Ill Suited and scare him or her off. Next meeting we'll have a couple of new people to see how they like us and how we like them. Group dating in a strange sense of the word.
I should update more often so these posts don't become the behemoths they seem to these days. Peace out.
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no subject
Date: 2009-03-21 07:50 pm (UTC)Wish I had some advice for dealing with the wannabes in your writer's group, but I don't, short of charging a membership fee.
For longer works, you might try just offering excerpts- Maybe just those parts you want help with? Or pass just a few copies around and have them move from person to person each session and getting feedback a little at a time?
no subject
Date: 2009-03-21 08:04 pm (UTC)Another idea that was tossed into the mix was to limit each writer to bringing in only eight copies of their current work, not to exceed the vicinity of twenty pages per piece. Then each critiquer would get three minutes of oral comments in addition to whatever they've written on the piece, with a five-minute chunk at the end for the writer to request clarification. That would bring us to about ninety minutes, which is what we like to limit each meeting to.
I'm glad we're flexible enough to tweak out our format when necessary because, frankly, I wouldn't want to be part of a rigid and doctrinaire group of people for any reason.
Thanks for enjoying what I write, even though sometimes it may seem petty and mundane. I've known you for a long time and those nice words make me feel warm and fuzzy. This journal is a combination of personal newsy info for my friends and a place to rant when necessary.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-21 08:34 pm (UTC)I generally read everything, even if I don't comment.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-22 08:13 am (UTC)And the longer the better. I like to marvel at your energy and accomplishments :-)!
(Says she whose life is just way too boring in comparison...)
no subject
Date: 2009-03-22 11:47 pm (UTC);)
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:51 pm (UTC)Mary asked, "Where are you from?" Walking down the tree-lined street.