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itsallovernowFirst - head banging note to self. When editing something that is 350 pages long, keep better track of the edits. Because it all looks alike right now. I have a zillion files labeled Blue Eyes, and some sort of code that clearly, at some point, made sense to me. Months ago, when I started this bloody project. It's not making so much sense right now.
Also, construction audits. Not so interesting to edit.
But back to the subject heading.
When I decided to go to grad school, I waivered between going into Archaeology which had been the long time plan, or Forensic Anthropolgy, a more recent interest, and something that fit better with my 22 year old liberal arts graduate need to be purposeful. I have the need still, but it's gotten a little buried in my debt. Purposeful doesn't tend to pay all that well. I applied to schools, was wooed by the Archaeology program, and never heard back from the Forensic Anthro people, until of course, I'd sent in my deposit, sold my stuff and prepared to move to Buffalo. Then the sent me a wooing letter. I was more than a little bitter, largely because it was in Montana (far closer to my family and friends) and because it was a Master's, less expensive, and very well regarded.
Several years later, living a desperate existence in L.A., having left both academic possibilities behind me, sinking into the mire of X-Files fanfic (not mirey as in mucky, just mirey as in overwhelming in depth and scope), I read a story by a writer I was fond of (and who was to traumatize me soon after with a little story called The Mill:)
This story, Innumerable, is about the aftereffects of Scully's work in Kosovo, helping to identify bodies. It's a beautiful story, quiet and intense and poignant, and it stuck with me for a very long time. Of course, the author of this story, Cofax, is our very own![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
suelac, who I later came to find out had a similar undergraduate training to myself.
The story (which is more a game of connect the dots in my mind than an actual story) continues with the work I've been doing for the mother of one of my clients. She's a physician, and a human rights worker, and I've been helping her put together presentatios on the Internationl Criminal Court, and various human rights abuses like the ones in Rwanda, the DRC, and Bosnia.
She asked me last night what my anthropology certifications were because they are desperate for forensic anthropologists to help work with the bodies of these various genocides, to help identify them and bring closure to these families. The first thing I thought of was Cofax's story, and then my own history, and then how my life could have gone. Then of course, my own ramblings were cut off as she told me about a boy- well, he's 18 now, but she's known him for 10 years - who is finally ready to have his DNA taken, and then begin the process of matching it to the bodies to find his missing siblings.
It's an odd car crash of coincidence and incidence, and it makes me pause, and take stock, looking around at the changes I want to make in my life, my sense of still needing purpose. It means so much to me to still be able to call myself a writer, and then I wonder how important that is, if there's work I can do that will have meaning to other people, do I really need that moniker for myself. And then I think of how funny it is to have read a piece of work, and never know how that work, or that person is going to later twine into your life.
I went home last night, and edited for a little bit, and grinned atsuelac's comments on my text. Cycles indeed.
Also, construction audits. Not so interesting to edit.
But back to the subject heading.
When I decided to go to grad school, I waivered between going into Archaeology which had been the long time plan, or Forensic Anthropolgy, a more recent interest, and something that fit better with my 22 year old liberal arts graduate need to be purposeful. I have the need still, but it's gotten a little buried in my debt. Purposeful doesn't tend to pay all that well. I applied to schools, was wooed by the Archaeology program, and never heard back from the Forensic Anthro people, until of course, I'd sent in my deposit, sold my stuff and prepared to move to Buffalo. Then the sent me a wooing letter. I was more than a little bitter, largely because it was in Montana (far closer to my family and friends) and because it was a Master's, less expensive, and very well regarded.
Several years later, living a desperate existence in L.A., having left both academic possibilities behind me, sinking into the mire of X-Files fanfic (not mirey as in mucky, just mirey as in overwhelming in depth and scope), I read a story by a writer I was fond of (and who was to traumatize me soon after with a little story called The Mill:)
This story, Innumerable, is about the aftereffects of Scully's work in Kosovo, helping to identify bodies. It's a beautiful story, quiet and intense and poignant, and it stuck with me for a very long time. Of course, the author of this story, Cofax, is our very own
suelac, who I later came to find out had a similar undergraduate training to myself.The story (which is more a game of connect the dots in my mind than an actual story) continues with the work I've been doing for the mother of one of my clients. She's a physician, and a human rights worker, and I've been helping her put together presentatios on the Internationl Criminal Court, and various human rights abuses like the ones in Rwanda, the DRC, and Bosnia.
She asked me last night what my anthropology certifications were because they are desperate for forensic anthropologists to help work with the bodies of these various genocides, to help identify them and bring closure to these families. The first thing I thought of was Cofax's story, and then my own history, and then how my life could have gone. Then of course, my own ramblings were cut off as she told me about a boy- well, he's 18 now, but she's known him for 10 years - who is finally ready to have his DNA taken, and then begin the process of matching it to the bodies to find his missing siblings.
It's an odd car crash of coincidence and incidence, and it makes me pause, and take stock, looking around at the changes I want to make in my life, my sense of still needing purpose. It means so much to me to still be able to call myself a writer, and then I wonder how important that is, if there's work I can do that will have meaning to other people, do I really need that moniker for myself. And then I think of how funny it is to have read a piece of work, and never know how that work, or that person is going to later twine into your life.
I went home last night, and edited for a little bit, and grinned at
suelac's comments on my text. Cycles indeed.
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 12:46 pm (UTC)Because it's Bob, when he was young and skinny, and not involved with underwear models:)
And which one is Michael. I could never remember their names, just remembered that I liked the blondish one who was in the U2 video.
Hee. Squirrelly Batman fan.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-20 10:54 pm (UTC)It means so much to me to still be able to call myself a writer,
scribo ergo est.;)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-21 09:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-21 06:33 am (UTC)This is a very interesting thought, but I'm not sure I see the dichotomy that's implied here. Then again, maybe I do. Let me try to tease this apart.
Meaningful work is a Good Thing. Good Works improve the world and they are something to take pride in, and receive joy from. Writing that is truthful and expressive is also a Good Work, because it increases the amoutn of understanding, it's the writer bearing witness to what they see and feel, and the reader being able to peek inside someone else's head and perhaps expand their experience or even perhaps recognize themselves.
Being a Writer isn't just working on stories, it's also this journal. You bear witness in this journal in a way that I'm still struggling with in my own (I tend to conceal, and not post, while you open up your thought processes--I'm just not as coherent in my daily thinking to do this kind of personal study in text).
Can you combine the two? I think so, and the idea of Thea doing this gut-wrenching work and telling me about it gives me the chills. You need to do what will give you satisfaction, not what you think you should want to do, but the stuff that draws you and possibly also scares you.
Because you have an ability and ease in translating your thoughts into something that compells a reader, even when you're simply speaking your mind about free-form connections you've been thinking about that day. Whatever you do, I think you're always going to be someone who can bear witness to it, tell us about it, and make us want to know more.
So yeah, I guess I don't agree with the dichotomy, because from my POV you are a writer, and you'll find a way to express yourself through that channel no matter what. Even if life takes you on a trip for a few years or decades, you'll just have a lot more stuff to think and write about when you come back to the page.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-21 09:55 am (UTC)I had been very focused on one potential path, and then, in grad school, I discovered I didn't want to retain a linear focus, that my interests which had always been diverse refused to be wrangled. Well, I could have wrangled them, but I'd have been miserable, and so i left, and still feel much guilt.
I think now, much like when I was younger, I feel a turning point ahead, a decision that should be made about what I should turn my abilities towards and I'm struggling between my pride, and my need to be purposeful.
Writing that is truthful and expressive is also a Good Work, because it increases the amoutn of understanding, it's the writer bearing witness to what they see and feel, and the reader being able to peek inside someone else's head and perhaps expand their experience or even perhaps recognize themselves.
This I believe wholeheartedly, that words, that bearing witness can often do what no amount of good work and sacrifice can, because a good writer can convey understanding, humility, pain, love, grace, all of those things.
You need to do what will give you satisfaction, not what you think you should want to do, but the stuff that draws you and possibly also scares you.
That's the truth of it, the heart of it for all of us, isn't it? Doing those things that frighten and compel, following possibilites even when they scare us.
Thank you so much for the encouragement, the support, the insight and the understanding. I can't tell you how much it means to me.
Caught Between Reality and Wishes
Date: 2004-04-21 08:03 am (UTC)I went from an undergraduate degree in Cultural Anthropology at Tulane Univ. where I always knew I was going to study how history, religion, and native psychology bends and changes minds--using Mexico as my template. I continued my studies at University of Wisconsin-Madison (rotten choice) where their Marxism and up or out culture kicked my eema into real life. I have never lost the feeling that I wanted to do good works via studying how people think and live. But "good works" don't pay bills because most folks don't respect this impulse. So, I sublimated my urges and went on to write computer books--used the skills I obtained in graduate school and followed the events and research in ethnohistory avidly (also forensic Anthropology, Mayan linguistics, and many other fields). I volunteered at the Smithsonian to feed my urge to help...
But then I read two things--Analise's story about John on an Earth overrun by PKs (my first fanfic) and then Kazbaby's story To Serve. Both were psychological twisters that gave me courage (with much support from Kazbaby and Cathy1967) to begin to write fiction. I don't think I'll change the world, but maybe someone will think about how other's feel and think a little more deeply.
I also just finished re-reading Patricia McKillip's amazing Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy about a type of rite of passage and it made me think that everything that changes our life's paths have a reason--we just don't know the answers yet--just the riddles.
I'm in the midst of chemotherapy for breast cancer. I've just learned that I have that blasted gene mutation that hits Jewish women and have elected to have major surgery this summer to remove my breasts. Life passages that stories and writing seem to riddle out meanings that I don't understand yet. But, I'll keep trying.
You will keep trying too--and it shows in the growth of your writing skills.
Re: Caught Between Reality and Wishes
Date: 2004-04-21 09:46 am (UTC)I'd very much like to see us both keep struggling and trying. Take care, and best of luck with all of this. My thoughts are very much with you.
Re: Caught Between Reality and Wishes
Date: 2004-04-21 09:57 am (UTC)Re: Caught Between Reality and Wishes
Date: 2004-04-21 10:56 am (UTC)One of the things I like about LJ is the opportunity to put into words the different thoughts and struggles and absurdities. Because I know there is a potential audience there, I have to think about how to couch the phrasing, so it feels less like spilling out intimate details, and more like writing:) It may not always read like that, but the distinction helps me:)