Was I too quick to cancel my print subscription?

Was I too quick to cancel my print subscription?

I didn't get the Sunday paper and I have been absolutely jonesing all day long! Really, even feel irritable, like an addict deprived.
Then I read this from the CSM and now I want you to read it too.
When was the last time you got your hands dirty?

This morning's column...

Nancy Hill: 'This is a city that loves and nurtures the arts' | SeacoastOnline.com
Later we'll talk about use of the pronoun I....

Children's Literacy: See Spot Surf the Web

     I read an interesting piece in the Sunday Boston Globe yesterday about the death of the printed book. This is not news to anyone of course, and something we've all seen coming, and some of us have been anguishing over, for a long time. I find these reports distressing and depressing most of the time. What I liked about the piece yesterday (I'm sorry I have forgotten the author) was that I was left with one very hopeful feeling. The author said that children's books were not on death row, that the creation and sales of good children's literature was and will remain strong. I needed to hear that having long been a proponent of the myriad joys and benefits of reading to small children (as well as a writer of children's stories). Hearing that did my heart a world of good.
     Follow that this morning by this interesting piece from NPR about the changing world of children's literature;

http://www.npr.org/2011/03/28/134663712/childrens-book-apps-a-new-world-of-learning

     The conclusion I have come to is that the situation is really the same as it is for adults, it is just far more important to understand the consequences for children. The fact is we are talking about two different kinds of literacy. All children, every single one of them, need to be both print and digitally literate. Each is a different set of skills that requires exposure to an abundance of quality literacy of both types, the printed word and the digital word. Each requires the brain to operate in a different way, and both are best learned in developmentally appropriate ways during early childhood. One will never replace the other, and never again will only one suffice for later success. Mastery of digital literacy always has been and always will be dependent on print literacy making the picture and early story books more important than ever, but the importance of digital literacy for children probably can not even be imagined by the confines of what we know today.
     My stubborn attitude of refusing to even look at an e-book is actually a childish indulgence no child can afford, or be asked, to make.

Poets on Poetry

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20035

       I found this  piece from poets.org quite interesting. It caused me to reflect a bit on whether or not I follow Horace's advice for poets written hundreds of years ago, and on whether or not it is still sound advice. I'm happy to say I think that I do and it is. His counsel was to, " read widely, strive for precision, and seek honest criticism". Still, upon deeper reflection, I am sure that I can and should be doing better at all three. In writing, as I imagine in all professions, there is, and always should be, room for improvement. So please excuse me now while I get to that. I especially want to study a poem the author mentioned by Sharon Olds poem, which I will copy below;

Take the I Out

But I love the I, steel I-beam that my father sold. They poured the pig iron into the mold, and it fed out slowly, a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened, Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he marketed it, and bought bourbon, and Cream of Wheat, its curl of butter right in the middle of its forehead, he paid for our dresses with his metal sweat, sweet in the morning and sour in the evening. I love the I, frail between its flitches, its hard ground and hard sky, it soars between them like the soul that rushes, back and forth, between the mother and father. What if they had loved each other, how would it have felt to be the strut joining the floor and roof of the truss? I have seen, on his shirt-cardboard, years in her desk, the night they made me, the penciled slope of her temperature rising, and on the peak of the hill, first soldier to reach the crest, the Roman numeral I-- I, I, I, I, girders of identity, head on, embedded in the poem. I love the I for its premise of existence--our I--when I was born, part gelid, I lay with you on the cooling table, we were all there, a forest of felled iron. The I is a pine, resinous, flammable root to crown, which throws its cones as far as it can in a fire.

UNH Magazine: Revisiting "Peyton Place"

This is an article I wrote that was just published at www.unhmagazine.unh.edu. It has of course been edited after it left my desk, so a few of the sentences are not my own, but it is something I worked very hard for several months of last year. It will be of particular interest to writers and anyone with a link to New Hampshire.

UNH Magazine: Revisiting "Peyton Place"

My column;

Mary Z. Walker and The Women's City Club | SeacoastOnline.com

Sounds fun

I want in on this game. Another lovely diversion;

The Top 10 Poets

The Top 10 Poets: Who are the Greatest? : Dean Rader : City Brights

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/drad...

http://www.sfgate.com

My writing with a slide show by Goya

Fighting Bull

By Tammi J Truax

Published by Seacoast Media Group, September 2008

     This summer marked a relatively major milestone for me; I took my first transatlantic trip alone, southern Spain in June. I saw and did many wonderful things while I was there. I could go on forever about just the museums in Madrid, or just not go on at all, and die happy over tapas and sangria by the Mediterranean Sea.

     One traditional tourist activity that I weighed heavily both before and after my trip was Corridas de Toros, a bullfight.  I decided, after much thought and study, to go - “when in Spain”.  I wanted to see and judge for myself what Hemingway called “a wonderful nightmare”.  There is intense controversy all over the world and within Spain about the ethics of the bullfight.  It has never been more intense, or more in the bull’s favor, than it is now, but anti-bullfighting sentiment is apparently not new.

     I was surprised to learn while viewing an exhibit on Francisco De Goya at the Prado Museum that he had passionate feelings about the subject when he created the series of prints called La Tauromaquia in 1815 and 16. (You can view these as a slideshow on YouTube.)  Art historians contend that the etchings show “Goya’s need to express his criticism of man’s deep rooted cruelty … brutality, which is explicit from the outset of the series, is an inherent characteristic of the figures from this world as a veiled critique of human barbarity.”

     To truly understand the bull fight, which may in fact be impossible for those of us who are not part of the Spanish culture, one must at least evaluate it within its current cultural context, and its significant historical context.

     The bullrings, themselves sometimes architecturally visit-worthy, probably originated as temples (Celtic-Iberian) and the rituals that took place in them were about sacrificing bulls to the gods, practices that ancient peoples almost certainly saw as necessary to their own survival. Stories of such sacrifices can be found in the bible and other ancient texts.  The bull was the supreme sacrifice because it was the largest of the domesticated animals to offer.  Under primarily Roman influence, over what was obviously a very long period of time, the religious significance waned and the rituals became more about entertainment. Though for another lengthy period of time Catholicism became entwined in the entertainment as it did in most aspects of Spanish culture. James Michener wrote elegantly of this entanglement in his novel Miracle in Seville. Now of course, no religious connection whatsoever can be made, and in fact, bullfighting was declared as “cruel and disgraceful exhibitions of devils” by Pope St. Pius V, who forbade attendance under penalty of excommunication. Nowadays, some seriously call it a sport, and some seriously call it art and as such integral to the culture, and some just call it a spectacle, including many Spaniards.

     I tried to keep an open mind about all of this when I purchased my terribly expensive ($110.US) ticket for a non-luxurious seat in the sun at an unimportant fight on a Sunday afternoon in Marbella.

     The adherence to the antediluvian rituals of the ceremonial opening may indeed have artistic merit. Regalia is almost always arresting. But the work of the matadors, though I was not seeing the rock-stars of the bullfighting world, really didn’t reflect what I would call artistry. Frankly, I have seen better moves on the dance floor, and I was watching hard for, maybe even hoping for, an artistic rationalization, as I had read about, what is supposed to be a spiritual symbiosis between man and beast. I didn’t see it.

     What I saw was a very predictable series of grossly unfair fights between a lot of men, and one bewildered animal after another. Each fight went down in exactly the same way so that it became almost boring. I found myself unable to be impressed when a young man, no matter how handsome, stabbed an animal, and then paraded himself, in a rather girly get-up, around the ring to receive applause while over gesticulating to the crowd. The act of hacking off the dead bull’s ear to toss to someone in the crowd as a gift, though deeply entrenched in tradition, seems absurd. I may have been impressed if anything at all had been in the bull’s favor during the fight, but it wasn’t. The matador who makes the final kill has a whole team of men working to weaken the bull first, and when anyone is in any danger they jump behind a wooden partition that the bull rams into, or if too far away from the well placed partitions they just jump the wall. We did see one matador get into what may be one of the most hazardous positions he could be in when he lost hold of his cape, and there was nothing artistic about the way he threw himself into the stands like a rodeo clown, causing my young American companion to remark, “Funny how fighting a bull becomes a lot more difficult when you lose your blanky.”

     In truth, the bullfights have clearly changed a lot over the last decade or two, largely in response to global demands.  It has become as humane as an animal killing ritual can probably get.  The elimination of the goriness there once was has also eliminated much of the peril that has rendered the show relatively facile, and really an almost risk free farce.

     Still, in the end, it is about killing. A bull fight is not over until either bull or man is dead, except for in rare instances when an unusually impressive bull is pardoned by the presiding authority. The kill itself, which has been called “the coup de grace”, does appear to be as merciful and skilled as an execution can be. The matador makes one swift thrust of his sword near the base of the skull, which severs the spinal cord, and death is supposed to be instant and painless. Of course, by this time the bull has been physically worn down by a series of other injuries that were not painless. During one bout I heard a bull cry, and I am not sure I’ve ever heard a sadder sound.

     I did not enjoy attending a bull fight. I did not enjoy the admonishment of my Madridian amigos several days later claiming that it is tourists like me who keep the bull fights operating. That may be partially true, but the Spanish are ultimately responsible. Some cities, like Barcelona, have outlawed bullfighting. Attendance all over the country is at an all time low, as is commercial sponsorship and televised fights, which were common not long ago. Still there are government funded bull ranches and bull fighting schools in Spain, and money is still being made.

    In the end though, it is hard for me to completely condemn the bullfight. It feels too hypocritical, as condemnation usually does to me. The Toro bravo is actually a distinct species of bull, bred for aggression, supposedly of an ancient race conserved only in Spain, and they are revered animals by the Spanish. They are raised in relative luxury and leisure, especially in comparison to most of the ungulates on this planet. They have to work only once in their lives, when and if they are chosen to enter the ring at the age of four, having been respectfully cared for and even blessed. Though I could not verify it, it is said that the dead bulls are always eaten, served in elaborate banquets to the townspeople or fed to the poor.

     If I were a bovine I would much rather go out that way then to be raised in an assembly line, live a brief and unnatural life, until killed by mechanical slaughter, and ultimately ordered up as a burger through a plastic clown’s head in a drive-thru eatery at an ugly American strip mall. Give me; give us all, a dignified death.
     All rights reserved. Do not use in whole or part without permission.

    

Dave Kiley Jr.: Portsmouth's only and original river pirate | SeacoastOnline.com

Dave Kiley Jr.: Portsmouth's only and original river pirate | SeacoastOnline.com

Distractions; Old and New

      I've been distracted lately, very distracted, and since my distraction all stems from a piece of my writing I thought I'd post it here and see what you think. I thought about writing this piece for a few years before I did. Then it sat around for a few years after I did. Over the last few months though, I sent it out. Hadn't really planned the timing, it just worked out that way. I submitted it to the famous Modern Love column and received my first rejection letter from the New York Times. That was a little exciting, a little fun. A copy of the piece also made it to the subject through a circuitous trip across the country. And he has been my distraction of late. That has been more than a little exciting and more fun than I can say. Here it is;

A Declaration of Love

By Tammi J Truax

     I’ve been wondering a lot lately just where it came from – this need of mine. This deeply rooted and undying need to hear my significant other make significant (preferably urgent and unique) declarations of undying love for me. I have reflected long and hard on it, on why it is so important to me, when in fact it has for most of my life been an unmet need. And I think it can all be blamed on Warren Kelley.

     In the third grade Warren Kelley and I sat at adjacent little wooden desks, he to my left. I remember him as softness. Velour, corduroy, and a downy crew cut everyone wished to touch but only adults could get away with. Softer still on the inside, with a sweet spirit the likes of which I’ve rarely encountered since.

     Warren spent most of each school day that year, not practicing spelling words and times tables like we were supposed to be doing, but writing and passing to me an endless series of notes on which he had printed, in soft gray graphite block letters, the same simple message; I LOVE YOU. My own desk was stuffed full with them. He would extend his arm into the aisle between us every few minutes, and I would then extend my hand and accept the little white note. I did not respond to Warren at all beyond taking and reading each and every one. I did not encourage him to continue or tell him to stop in these effusions. I seemed to know without question, that it was the perfectly appropriate, and probably involuntary, course of action for any man to take who was seriously interested in winning my heart.

     When this effort seemed to be an inadequate way of expressing his fondness for me he did what I think any good man would or should do; he made an embarrassing public demonstration of his  passion.

     There was some kind of parent function in our classroom one evening. As usual, Warren and I were near each other, but were not talking to each other. We just looked at each other silently, both of our little faces sprinkled with freckles and wonder. The reason for actually being there was rather lost on us. A considerable crowd was gathered in the stuffy room when Warren stepped up right in front of me and my ex-Marine father, and began, one ravenous rip at a time, to tear off bites of his Styrofoam cup, and ceremoniously chew and swallow each mouthful, as I silently stood before him and watched. The room grew quieter as people began to stare, and finally my father, leaning in just a bit, asked me, “Why is he doing that?” To which I immediately responded, by softly stating what I thought was perfectly obvious, “Because he loves me.”

     That was one of the few times I’ve ever sensed my father’s pride in me, I guess for bringing a boy to such romantic ruin, but that was not why it was such an important moment in my life. Warren changed me then. Changed me forever.

     He set in motion that year an expectation for me that my man should, well, gush for me once in awhile. The words need not be eloquent nor the gesture elaborate, but the message is mandatory. And sometimes, there must be a public display of this affection, the love affirmed for the whole wide world to see.

     I have spent a considerable amount of time ruminating on this expectation of mine, as well as on the men I have known who have not lived up to it. I have even attempted to alter it. I have made some attempt at loving a man unconditionally, forsaking my need. It doesn’t work. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. That kind of love is best reserved for one’s children, not one’s partner. I have come to the conclusion that my needs really aren’t that unreasonable.

     I don’t need a handsome knight in shining armor to come cantering up to my door on a white steed. A kind of cute guy in an old pick-up truck would suffice. He doesn’t need to be bearing gifts of glistening jewels; a handful of meadow flowers he picked just for me would be perfect. I don’t really need thirty seven love notes a day; I could get by with two or three juicy ones a year. I don’t long for a man to make a spectacle of himself for me, but paying more attention to me than the most statuesque blond beauty at a party is essential. I must confess that, while I wouldn’t want any man to cause himself bodily harm for me, the truth is, seeing my name emblazoned in ink across a man’s upper arm would be a dream come true. A request my late husband declined to fulfill.

     So, I’m left still wondering. Wondering what to do, what to think. Sometimes I also wonder what became of Warren Kelly. I wonder if his significant other ever needs reassurance of his never-ending love and desire. I wonder if the ingestion of 1970’s chemically questionable cups during his formative years caused him any later harm. I wonder if he knows how deeply touching his unselfish and courageous affectations have been to others. I wonder if he even remembers me, or has any idea that he set the bar for all other men for me, forever.

      It seems to me that the Fab Four were wrong, with all due respect to them. In the end the love you take is not equal to the love you make, it’s equal to the love you declare, freely and fearlessly.

      Warren, I’m sorry I never responded then, but I do declare now;

Thanks, and

 I  love  you.

All rights reserved. Do not use in whole or part.without permission.

I interviewed a beauty queen;

http://www.seacoastonline.com/articles/20110106-LIFE-101060323

For locals

Jolly Green Gift Giving

By Tammi J Truax

     You have been hearing a lot lately about how shopping locally is good for the environment, and by that we mean both the fragile ecosystem that is our home and the fragile economic system that rules it. Spending your hard earned cash at local, independent shops, businesses that used to be called Mom and Pop operations, is the right thing to do. If you want to go a step further, as many of your local merchants have done already, you can do even more good by buying green goods. That means choosing products that have the smallest carbon footprint (the negative impact the item has made on the planet) before coming to you and maybe after purchasing, and in most cases that means you, or the recipient of the gift, benefit as well, by less exposure to impure parts or ingredients.

      Karen Marzloff of Seacoast Local further explains why shopping locally is important, “New Englanders are projected to spend $700 each this holiday season, and every dollar spent locally creates up to three times the economic activity in our communities. Around the country, economists forecast that U.S. consumers will spend approximately $445 billion during the 2010 holiday season. Every one of those dollars spent at local independents helps ensure that they will remain local economic engines for years to come and maximizes the growth of economic security, rather than sending away profits to corporations that own big box stores and out-of-town chains.”

     So remember that when you spend money at a chain store in your town, most of that money is leaving town, and is more likely to be reinvested in someplace like China than in Portsmouth. If you follow Seacoast Local on Face Book or Twitter they will post holiday specials being offered by local indies throughout the season. For your holiday gift selection consideration I asked just a small sampling of the many fine shop owners we have ready to serve us, what is their greenest gift offering this year, and here is what some of them said;

     The owner of Blue Moon Imports at 1 Washington St. Centre in Dover said, “The greenest gifts I have this year are beautiful fair trade purses and Christmas ornaments made out of recycled sari fabrics from India. Each piece is hand embroidered and truly unique. They are absolutely beautiful!”

      Liz Wright, co-owner of FaLaLo at 51 Ceres Street has a bounty of well-researched green goods but decided, “Our greenest gift is the recycled phone book bag. They come in three sizes, and have two different types of handles. They’re not only recycled, but also fair trade. They are made in the Philippines by women who work with the not-for-profit organization Handcrafting Justice.”

     Heather Lessard, partner and poet-in-residence at Tulips Handcrafts on Market Street says her greenest gift is “Herlihedrons” which are spectacular sculptural assemblages created by local artist Nina Herlihy who collects objects like driftwood and seashells and turns them into something else like mermaids, owls, even Santa’s! Tulips carries almost exclusively New England made arts and crafts.

     Owner of Puttin’ On The Glitz at 150 State Street, Assiah Russell, recommends her line of Stephanie Robb Designs of silver and gold jewelry with natural stones, and she recently went to Buffalo, New York to check out the company. You won’t get research like that done for you at a retail chain store. She says, “All pieces are hand-crafted by a small design team that employs four women who sit around a work table and collectively work on designing. All scraps are recycled so there is no waste. The quality and price-point are excellent. A fine example of a woman dedicated to producing an entire line, totally made in America and supporting her local women.”

     Image Arts at 738 Islington Street Plaza 800 can surround your art (hopefully created by a local artist) in custom frames made from sustainable wood. For this they use a company that offers a line of eco-care frames that are produced from managed forests with an active reforestation program. They use organic water based stains on the molding with no chemical solvents. 

     If you have expectant or new parents or a baby on your list Nest Maternity and Baby Clothing and Gifts at 601 Islington Street carries almost exclusively green items for the purity of the products. They carry every conceivable supply for diapering little green babies, and organic toys and clothing, and sweet burp cloths handmade by the owner’s Mom. I really like the Willie Nelson onesie.

     Also for the little ones, head mom and buyer, Jody Breneman, of the family-run shop G. Willikers!  at 13 Market Street said her greenest gift is the wonderful fire truck ($26.00) for ages 1 to 7 years. It is made by Green Toys which produces American made products from recycled milk jugs. She will soon have the entire line on hand which includes a tug boat that will tug at your heart. The fire truck has won two toy awards this year. G. Willikers! also features many children’s books by local authors which I really appreciate, and they offer shipping and free gift wrapping.

     You would be hard pressed to find a greener shop anywhere than the two operating out of the 76 Congress Street storefront. They are 1 World Trading Company which says they are “purveyors of goods that benefit the planet and the people that live on it.” They carry everything you need to green up your home and your lifestyle. When pushed to divulge what was the greenest gift of all proprietor Paul Keegan chose The Klean Kanteen, a food grade stainless steel travel container for hot or cold drinks combined with a colorful handmade Guatemalan pouch, citing the gifts ongoing contribution to the globe every time it is used instead of a plastic water bottle. Available in two sizes, from $24. to 26.  For an inexpensive gift, they carry a handcrafted, organic, and minimally packaged soap that is blended by bicycle power in Massachusetts. Available in several scents, I think the peppermint would make a festive Christmas gift. Paul also runs Re-Cycles which sells bicycles he has refurbished that were going to the landfill. You can’t get much greener that that.

     I did some of my Christmas shopping at 1 World where I bought an organic cotton tee made in India with 80% wind power, printed with Earth friendly ink in the USA, and designed by a Keene artist with the slogan New Hampshire - Live Green or Die for a friend that moved away (they say they will plant a tree for every tee sold and that if the recipient plants the tag wildflowers will bloom), a pretty handmade charm bracelet for a girl that collects them, bamboo ski socks for my black diamond daughter, and a bar of doggie soap from a local farm.

     And Santa if you’re reading this, while I was at Worldly Goods on Congress Street I saw the warmest women’s mittens made from recycled sweaters for $59. a one-of-a-kind pair!  A bonsai tree from Little Timbers Nature Store right up the street is a fairly green gift for happy growers (like me), and I believe vintage estate jewelry from Market Square Jewelers is a green idea vastly underrated. (Do we really need to mine any more diamonds and gold?)  And thank you Santa, for all of the green good you do too. More people should make their own toys and get around in a sleigh. Let our local merchants know if you need anything and they will be happy to help you fill up your pack.

     

Tinkering with many things ...

     Hard to decide which is more distasteful ~ having work rejected or having work I have completed killed. I am certain the hardest to swallow of all is having my work maimed upon being published. Frustrating is the kindest way I can describe how that feels, but I would prefer to pepper that with some profanity. Having been tied up with those scenarios over the last couple of weeks (though I remain thankful for the assignments), I haven't gotten many submissions out lately. With one noteworthy exception. I submitted to the New York Times for the first time! Something for the Modern Love column they run on Sundays. It is extremely competitive, a few of them have resulted in movie and book deals, but I had a little something I thought was a good fit so I sent it in.
     Have also started working with a new publisher about one of my children's books. It is all very exciting but still in the planning stages.
     Here is a link to the latest installment of my radio show, about my hometown's connection to the last selection for the 2010 Pulitzer Prize for Literature in fiction, followed by a few cartoons for writers.

http://seacoastjournal.podomatic.com/entry/2010-12-17T12_39_03-08_00

http://htmlgiant.com/behind-the-scenes/the-writer-at-work/#more-52128

Wanted to share this announcement

Boston Public Library Special Exhibit


The Public Life of Poetry: Whitman, Dickinson, Longfellow, and Their Contemporaries

THROUGH SUNDAY JANUARY 30, 2011 6 P.M.

Rare Books Lobby
Central Library
Boston Public Library
Copley Square
700 Boylston St.
Boston, MA 02116

The Public Life of Poetry: Whitman, Dickinson, Longfellow, and Their Contemporaries
In his 1855 Preface to Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman boldly declared that “a bard is to be commensurate with a people” and that “[t]he proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.” With these pronouncements, Whitman expresses the sentiment of commonality and reciprocal appreciation that drove the work of many nineteenth-century American poets, poets who depended upon their readers’ “absorption” of their verse.

The Public Life of Poetry: Whitman, Dickinson, Longfellow, and Their Contemporaries presents the work of poets who believed themselves to be speaking to and for a vast number of Americans. As critics have pointed out, the American literary milieu was dominated until the early nineteenth century by writers who were effectively dilettantes and could not hope for large readerships. By the mid-nineteenth century, however, with the example of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the professional poet was born. Longfellow’s books could be found on parlor tables across the country.
But, in fact, nineteenth-century Americans found poetry in print all around them—not only in their private homes, but also in the public sphere—and this exhibit also presents some of the “disposable” or “ephemeral” poetry that circulated during this period alongside the work of respected literary lions. Printed verse appeared in advertisements, in schoolbooks, at monument dedications, and on the covers of periodicals. Readers, in turn, produced and reproduced poetry in parodies, scrapbook collections, and even samplers. An overlooked segment of nineteenth-century American print culture, public poetry occupied an important sociocultural role, helping readers to make sense of war, death, love, separation, and other transformations of and challenges to emotional and spiritual life.
This exhibit of material from the Boston Public Library’s Department of Rare Books and Manuscripts features early editions and manuscripts from iconic American poets such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Walt Whitman, and Emily Dickinson; political broadsides and ephemera by John Greenleaf Whittier and Ralph Waldo Emerson; collections of dialect poetry by James Whitcomb Riley and Paul Laurence Dunbar, and more.

From the local daily;

Adina Prietz Linden: ' ... to feel connected' | SeacoastOnline.com

You now have to register to access Seacoast Online which takes a few minutes the first time. Thanks for sticking with it.

The Recorded Voice Of Virginia Woolf Part 2

This is the only surviving recording of Virginia Woolf's voice. It is part of a BBC radio broadcast from April 29th, 1937. The talk was called "Craftsmanship" and was part of a series entitled "Words Fail Me".

The audio is accompanied by a slideshow of photographs of Virginia Woolf.

The text was published as an essay in "The Death of the Moth and Other Essays" (1942)


I came upon this recording of Virginia Woolf speaking about writing just as I was about to start reading Mrs. Dalloway for the first time. It's a bit mesmerizing to hear her.

The Recorded Voice Of Virginia Woolf

Interesting...

     A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. – John Steinbeck


http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/3810/the-art-of-fiction-no-45-john-steinbeck

James Frey’s Fiction Factory

     I found this article painfully provocative. It touches on so many points that have changed for writers over the last few years. The discussion of product placement in one's work made me rather sick. Still when I look at Frey, look into his eyes in the many accompanying photos, or look into his actions, I see something somewhat familiar. I suspect we all might. I see, at least in some small way, myself. Certainly, his methods are different than any I have or ever will choose. He is rather routinely coarse and vulgar, which I avoid being, (but have often been). His concept of honesty may vary somewhat from mine, (or yours or Oprah's), but no one can be perfectly authentic all of the time, we can only strive to be. What he is ... is a writer, desperate to tell his story. We are storytellers. A position once revered within the tribe. The biggest difference I see between Frey and I right now is that he is supporting himself and his family as a writer. Steven Spielberg isn't calling me.

James Frey’s Fiction Factory

     We also owe Frey a bit of gratitude, I think, in raising the discussion of honesty in memoir writing to the level it has reached. As a memoirist I have given the subject quite a bit of thought, mostly since Frey inflated the balloon. I believe the bottom line is that we, each and every one of us, have our own truth. The book I'm writing is my truth. Nobody else mentioned in it, though they were there, would write the story the same way. Some are going to say it didn't happen quite like that. Some are going to say the worst ~ "that's not true". What they mean is that it is not their version of the truth, so they feel they can invalidate my version of my truth. But they can't. Not really. And real writers know that.

Not so divine secrets ...

     Dubya is on a book tour. Dumber than dirt Dubya! While I sit here fanning my overheated self with not particularly well written rejection letters.
     That little blow aside, I have been on a bit of a roll lately. Sent out two submissions this week, booked three readings, and most important of all, got more writing done than usual. I have also been pushing my finished children's books a little bit farther out of the nest.
     Now that it is the season of curling up fireside I find myself reading more than usual. I have been a big Anita Shreve fan for several years, so while in a book store the other day I impulsively grabbed what I think is her latest, A Change in Altitude. It didn't grab my attention in turn though. I abandoned it last night (I can be ruthless if the first few pages of a book don't seduce me). Which is exactly what the used book I caught sight of at my local grocery store did. I was supposed to be gathering dinner, but a bib of old books stood between me and food, and one title stood out. Last night I started The Divine secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I know it is an oldie, but I never read it and haven't seen the movie yet either. Ironically I note that it was published the year that my fourteen year old daughter was born, and it is my morphing relationship with her that caused my eye to drift to The Divine, which I understand to be a tale of a complicated mother/ daughter relationship. This is a sensitive spot for me now as I am currently being twisted into the wicked witch of the west although I am a mortal woman of the east. Anyway, I fell in love with this book from page one. Here is a mother/ daughter related passage from page 47. Tell me if you don't fall too.
     "My mother was a beautiful swimmer. Her stroke was the Australian crawl. Watching Mama swim was like watching a woman who knew how to waltz perfectly, only her partner was not a man, but creek water. Her kick was strong, her stroke fluid, and when she rolled her head side to side to breathe, you could barely see her mouth open. "There is no excuse for a messy swimmer, any more than there is for a messy eater," she told us. My mother judged people by how well they swam and whether they made her laugh or not."

My contribution to todays Portsmouth Herald;

Leon Valley: 'I was born to build ships'
http://www.seacoastonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20101104/LIFE/11040328&emailAFriend=1

In case you missed it

Halloween poem from The Writer's Almanac 10/31/2010

The Methodist and his Method

          by Chad Sweeney

Underground in the cemetery

my grandfather preaches to the other corpses.

They clap inside their boxes

nicely arranged in Sunday clothes

in long rows like pews.

His words stir hope

that conditions may change.

Each man has been given his row boat,

he says,

to lie back in and watch the sky

braiding and unbraiding its light.

No one is safer than we are.

-- from Parable of Hide and Seek. © Alice James Books, 2010

Boomers Embracing Facebook

This is an article I wrote for SMG which was published in the Seacoast Seniors supplement to todays Portsmouth Herald.

What Is Your Facebook Status?


By Tammi J Truax

It may be hard to believe that e-mail has become an inefficient and outdated form of communication, but that really is the truth of today. Other modes of social networking, specifically Facebook, are the preferred technique of the day. At first, and for quite awhile, the younger generation, I believe they are calling themselves Xer’s, tried to keep it for themselves. As one local teenager was quoted as saying a couple of years ago; “E-mail is for you old people, Facebook is ours.” Wrong again, kids. Facebook is not just for young people.

And that is just as it should be. The internet is a product of the hippie generation, and the hippie objectives of freedom and equality for all, are the great tenants of it. Facebook, like everything else on the web, has to be accessible to everyone in the world. To date that is going pretty well. More than five hundred million people are on Facebook. I repeat – 500 million. That is one in fourteen of us on this overpopulated planet! It is said that if Facebook were a country it would be the third most populated one on earth. But it is better than that, it’s a country without borders. And the fastest growing segment of that population is, you guessed it, Boomers.

Facebook, a privately held company, defines itself as a “social utility that connects people with friends and others who work, study, and live around them.” It was founded in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 2004 for college students to get to know each other and was at first limited to students. Now headquartered in Palo Alto, California, it has several locations around the globe and is still growing and hiring.

The growth has been unparalleled. In just six years going from zero to more than 500 million users, and is expected to have earnings in excess of one billion dollars this year. Currently the fastest growing group joining Facebook is seniors.

Explains local social media consultant John Herman,

John Herman

“Data from Facebook shows that in 2009 the 55+ audience grew an amazing 922.7%. That was much more than any other age group by far. Frankly the idea that Facebook is just for young people is a thing of the past. The service gives everyone a unique way to connect with friends and, increasingly, business partners.”

There seem to be several reasons for the spike in popularity for this age group. The first being that it coincides with seniors slow, but very steady, increased use of the internet. Once comfortable with the internet it is most likely that seniors will at least consider joining Facebook. Some cities offer classes to ease the transition, but a quick tutorial by a teenager will usually do the trick. Of web activities engaged in by Americans age 65+ in November 2009 Facebook was actually the third ranked online destination coming after Google Search and Windows Media Player, and barely beating YouTube. There is no question that in the last year Facebook has climbed in the rankings.

An independent research group, Pew Research Center, reports that social networking among seniors has nearly doubled from April 2009 to May 2010, from 22% of those using the internet to 42%.

“Young adults continue to be the heaviest users of social media, but their growth pales in comparison with recent gains made by older users,” said Mary Madden, Senior Research Specialist and author of the report ‘Older Adults and Social Media’ which was based on telephone interviews.

Seniors who are on Facebook report that there are primarily two reasons why they use it. The first is that it provides a unique way to bridge the generation gap, which in America is often an age and lifestyle separation as well as a geographic one. This really is one of the beautiful sides of it. With the growth of seniors on board there is often a three generation connection. Seniors can keep track of what their children and grandchildren are doing all over the world in almost real time, and the handy and easy photo sharing feature is very popular for this purpose. One post (a message for all of your friends) can go to all of the family members at the same time, so Junior’s grades and Julie’s lacrosse feats, can be shared with both pride and efficiency. Some feel that this type of communication lacks a personal touch that even a quick e-mail message would have provided. That may be, but in the case of seniors, especially those who spend most of their time alone, a social networking service like Facebook can provide an immensely helpful interaction with the outside world, and increase, not decrease, the amount of communication that their extended family members are able to provide. The fact of the matter is, if you want to know what your kids or grandkids are up to you have to get on board. Facebook users of all ages report being frustrated with family members who won’t join because it makes it hard to communicate with them. Event planning, for example, is now routinely done on Facebook. When someone is planning a party or gathering of any kind they send out the invitation via Facebook, and it requires extra effort to include non Facebook users in the festivities. There is a private messaging feature on Facebook, very much like e-mail, for when you want to send a message to just one person, as well as an IM feature for private chatting. These are always available but you don’t have to use them.

Says Terry Abbott of Stratham,

Terry Abbott

“I joined at the urging of my kids. Thought I’d try it out. Found that it was a great way to keep up with the activities of my kids without being intrusive.”

For those who are truly turned off by the idea of interacting with the rest of the world it is possible to set up a family only group page on Facebook, but just requires a bit more work. This type of page though, can be very helpful to elder care management, when a senior is choosing to remain living alone but needs to be checked on frequently by family members. Usually, that type of page is not the choice, because a majority of seniors on Facebook report that they enjoy the second most popular reason for joining Facebook; connecting with people from their past.

Terry continued,

Terry Abbott

“Then the best part was finding a long lost friend that I hadn’t heard from in about thirty five years! And more recently another old friend found me on Facebook.”

These types of connections are the other beautiful benefit of Facebook, if you want to be found you will be found. And your findability is largely in your control. When you set up a Facebook page you set your own privacy levels (but you must be sure to do so) and you choose whether or not to reveal information like previously used last names, schools attended and professional or other affiliations. You can keep your privacy settings as tight as you want to. (Do avoid revealing your complete date of birth and address). Still, there are those who find the loss of privacy on Facebook to be so threatening that they will not join. One gentleman I talked with told me that he considers it an unprecedented, and even dangerous, invasion of privacy, and though he believes his own elderly mother is on Facebook he will not join, and finds skypping with her to be the ideal method of communication. I’m sure all of her grandchildren would beg to differ.

My own family is probably a pretty typical example. I am middle aged, smack dab in the middle of the expected life span. I have two siblings. My big brother has not joined Facebook though he tweets daily. When asked if he’ll join soon he said, “I’m no closer to Facebook’n than you are to going all a’twitter.” My sister has a Facebook that she uses minimally. I use it several times every day. (As a writer I find it crucial for networking, and as the mother of teenagers I find it essential that I monitor their use of it, and honestly do learn quite a bit about their lives through it.) All six of the grandchildren in our family who range in age from 14 to 29 are on Facebook with varying degrees of activity. I can tell you that I really have gotten to know a couple of my nieces and nephews much better since we became Facebook friends. Our only surviving parent, my 76 year old father, is not on Facebook and will not consider getting on, telling me “It has no relevance to my life.” I know all of his grandchildren would beg to differ. His wife, who admits she has been receiving a lot of pressure both socially and professionally to join, also hasn’t, saying for her the issue is time. It can be time consuming, but this is another area where you have complete control. You can check your Facebook once a day for a few minutes, or obsessively update your status every hour from anywhere using your phone. The choice is yours.

Connecting with people you have never met is another possibility, and again, one that is optional. You do not have to accept strangers as friends if you don’t want to, and if you feel you need to, you can unfriend people you have accepted. Still some people find these types of connections rewarding.

A maturing friend of mine when asked why he uses Facebook said he is

Shayne Kevin

“Looking for the love … I would say it can be found about as often as in Market Square, …, but many more voices can be heard, and heads potentially turned, than in Market Square, and there are no buses idling here.”

My friend on and off Facebook, Pat Parnell of Stratham, is an enthusiastic new Facebooker. She told me she had to join in order to view photos the family had posted of a granddaughter’s MFA exhibit. She has since begun communicating daily with her sons and grandchildren, as well as neighbors and colleagues, and takes great joy in getting regular updates and photos of her great grand children who live far away. (That’s four generations!) She has experienced profound validation from a former student friending her who is now a teacher himself, and who reminds her of things she taught him forty years ago that are still important to him. She took great comfort in being able to post and share memorial information after losing her husband, and is tickled that she now corresponds with one of his cousins she never knew about who friended her from Ireland.

She told me,

Pat Parnell

“There are unexpected pleasures in your life from Facebook.”

A similar philosophy must have been felt by Ivy Bean, who was the oldest known Facebook user when she died at the age of 104 with 4949 friends and another 9000 waiting for her to accept their friendship requests. For the last three years of her life Ms. Bean used Facebook daily to connect with all sorts of people when she could no longer get out and about.

Seniors who use Facebook do not report that real networking, one of the primary uses of it for working people of all ages, is something that they care about, but there is some evidence that they are networking. Just two examples I easily found on Facebook of groups that seniors are befriending are; The American Senior Benefits Association which claims to be a non-profit that provides “Quality benefits, targeted advocacy and education for today’s 50+,” and Seniors for Pets, Inc. which says it is “a non-profit organization whose mission is to help needy senior citizens obtain veterinary care for their pets.” Of course, you can join any groups you want, and even form your own group if nothing on Facebook meets your needs. You can share or learn about any interest you have with other like minded folks from your own page. Liz Wilson of South Berwick has found it to be a reliable way to get great recipes. People often use Facebook to ask for advice when they are mulling over a decision, or to bounce ideas off others. And of course it is a place where you can speak your mind and share what is important to you.

There are undeniable health benefits to social networking for seniors as well. We have all read the research about the importance of not just ongoing social interaction with others but active engagement of the brain every day. Social media tools, just like the recommended music playing or Sudoku puzzles, fill this need. And while you don’t need to play the games available on Facebook, just participating in the great social experiment of it can be a lot of fun.

That is the bottom line with Facebook which is what the representatives at the company try to explain to critics. FaceBook is what you make of it. And your cyber self is going to be a reflection of your real self. It is you.

Tammi Truax

“ Personally, I see it as another way of creating community, and I love the way it makes this great big world of ours a little smaller, and quite a bit friendlier.”

Many people were afraid that the invention and popularity of the telephone meant an end to normal human contact, and you know how that turned out. Facebook, like it or not, is a part of our culture now, our global culture, and like the telephone, it is much more than a trend. It played a real role in the last presidential election that changed the face of politics forever. Last Saturday night two separate skits on Saturday Night Live were about using Facebook, and the movie about its founders is well on its way to being a box office blockbuster. The number of people with Facebooks continues to grow each day. New features will be added as the changing demographics of users make their needs known. And someone, somewhere, wants to be your friend.