Making the Outrageous Acceptable

Dear Friends,

It is June and I currently have my space heater on to prevent me from getting chilblains while I work. (Do people still get chilblains? I don’t know, but it sounds very Dickensian, so I’ll go with it AS IT’S JUNE and I HAVE THE SPACE HEATER ON.) I know in another couple of weeks when I’m in Tokyo, I’ll long for the feeling of cold hands/warm heart, but that’s a tomorrow problem. Today is June and I am cold, which is a bit outrageous.

Speaking of outrageous, I came across this quote while I was rereading John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction:

Invention is art’s main business, and one of the great joys of every artist comes with making the outrageous acceptable.

In context, he’s discussing the so-called “rules” of writing and how they are so often broken, which is why he disdains the concept of rules in writing and adheres more to “general principles.” I remember in my early days of writing how I just wanted someone to tell me how to do it, the way someone could tell me how to jumpstart a car or make an omelette.

But that’s not how writing is done.

That’s not how narrative is fashioned. You can’t know that until you’ve experienced it.

Anyway, I’m kind of in love with the idea of invention and making the outrageous acceptable1, especially when it comes to turning what is expected on its head. Especially when it results in great joy for creatives. As you can guess, I’m all for great joy for creatives. Something has to balance the angst, right?

So I’m taking that as my touchstone for this year’s genesis retreat. Of course, it helps that we have Ann Davila Cardinal as our visiting author, who might very well be the First Lady of Outrageousness in Writing. We’re going to invent some amazing things this September. Applications are currently being accepted as we have a few spots left.

Speaking of reading, (except we weren’t actually), I finally finished The Work of Art: How Something Comes From Nothing by Adam Moss. When I finished it, I decided I wanted another book to feed my creativity in addition to my red reading goals, so that’s why I picked up the mighty John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction. Besides, it has a nice flow to it, doesn’t it? From The Work of Art to The Art of Fiction. I’ll have to find something called The Fiction of ______ next.

I also snuck in a reread of Picture This: How Pictures Work by Molly Bang. It’s a short book, but it’s so incredibly brilliant that I love returning to it when I’m stuck in an illustration.

As for my red reading goals, I finished The Law of Love by Steve Young and moved on to the next book: Milton Cross’ Complete Stories of the Great Operas. It was my grandmother’s book, and I’ve had it for over a decade. Have I opened it even once during those 15-20 years? Negative. I hadn’t even known that my grandmother loved opera, despite having lived with my grandparents from age 3 to 9. I guess some things go completely over the heads of wee babes. Anyway, since I loved my grandmother, I ended up with this book and since I fell in love with the Vienna Opera, I decided to wade through it.

I decided (stupidly? optimistically? heroically?) to make this a full experience and watch each opera after I have read its story rather than simply read the libretto Cliffs-notes of all 72 operas. You can rightfully assume that this will take me approximately a hundred years. I have read the first: L’Africaine, by Giacomo Meyerbeer, and I found it a racist story of privilege. Here’s hoping the next one is better.

The next book on my shelf is The Golden Hind: An Anthology of Elizabethan Prose and Poetry, which was one of my grandfather’s college text books. Oof. I can only take so much self-improvement at a time. So I’ve decided to skip over The Golden Hind for now. I’ll come back to my grandfather when I’m done visiting with my grandmother.

Which brings me to the next book on the shelf: The Tale of Desperaux, being the story of a mouse, a princess, some soup, and a spool of thread by Kate DiCamillo. Now there’s a palate cleanser. It’s been ages since I’ve read this, and as I was sick this past week, it was the perfect companion. I also reread Kate’s The Puppets of Spelhorst and The Hotel Balzaar as research for another project. It was interesting to compare her earlier work to her more recent work.

I also snuck in a few audiobooks (Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry and The Unselected Journal of Emma M. Lion, volumes 6, 7, and 8), though I’m uncertain how exactly I ended up with Great Big Beautiful Life, except it did have a red cover, so maybe?

In other news, my piece “Riverwalk” is up in the show “On the Merrimack” at the Arts League of Lowell, which will be running until June 28. It’s meant to represent the many immigrants of Lowell who are superimposed on a minimalist map of the city, walking (and working) by the river to produce the gold above.

Last but not least, I’ve returned to working on a middle-grade manuscript that I set aside quite a while ago. This is based on an experience I had when we were living in Vienna, and though some of the story is dark, it’s been a joy to return to some of my favorite places in Vienna. However, I’m currently in the murky middle, so wish me luck.

Three weeks until we leave for Tokyo. I suspect I’m going to need an intervention in the stationery and art stores there. Stay tuned to see if I can rustle up even a modicum of self-control.

Happy June! May your days abound in popsicles and pop rockets.

Hugs to you!

Ginger