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AUDREY DRISCOLL'S BLOG
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Posted in Books on November 1, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll.
SUNSHINE IN DECEMBER
Every year, I tell myself there’s no need to take more pictures of the Winter
Jasmine (Jasminum nudiflorum), but almost every year I find reasons to ignore
that advice. Like this year.
Winter jasmine is a great plant. It grows well, is drought-tolerant and easy to
maintain, and produces bright yellow flowers at a time when hardly anything else
is blooming. It’s also easy to propagate—too easy, perhaps. Wherever it touches
the soil, it sends out roots. I have to watch for this so as to prevent it from
running rampant. Its only other fault is total lack of scent, disappointing for
those who associate the name “jasmine” with perfume. But none of that matters
when it’s at peak bloom during the dark days approaching the winter solstice.
Hummingbirds like it too.
Posted in Garden and tagged garden photos, Jasminum nudiflorum, winter blooming
plants, winter jasmine on December 1, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll. 22 Comments
LATEST WSW CHAT
This time we kick around this question: What Happens to Our Writing After We’re
Gone? Has anyone done any literary estate planning? Comments are welcome on the
WSW site; closed here.
> WSW Chat – What Happens To Our Writing After We’re Gone?
Posted in Publishing, Reblogs and tagged literary estate planning on November
30, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll.
CLOSE YET DISTANT: THE RELATIONSHIPS AMONG WRITERS, CHARACTERS, AND READERS
What reader doesn’t feel a special relationship with characters in their
favourite books? They are reliable friends with whom to escape the hurly-burly
of the world. And what reader, having discovered an author and loved their
books, hasn’t wanted to learn more about their creator? A complex relationship
develops, between real human beings and fictional ones.
Photo by mohamed abdelghaffar on Pexels.com
It’s a unique relationship, and valuable in its own way, even if illusory. I
call it illusory because the real individuals may never meet, and the fictional
ones are, well, fictional.
Unless they know each other in “real life,” the author-reader relationship is
bound to be a slight or fleeting connection, at an event such as a book-signing,
or through social media. In both these situations, the individuals are most
likely to be presenting crafted personas rather than their authentic selves. The
real relationship is therefore based on the reader’s understanding of the plot,
characters, and ideas of the author, expressed in words chosen by that person.
Sometimes actually getting to know an author as a person, or discovering details
about their life disillusions the reader.
Then there are reader-to-reader relationships, in which there may be different
degrees of admiration or antipathy toward books, authors, or characters. Book
clubs come to mind here, as well as online forums and review sites. Friendships
based on books can be rewarding.
Relationships between characters and readers are less complicated, because
characters as written have no secrets, except those known to their writers
alone. Reader-character relationships, although intense, may themselves be
secret. Readers may choose not to reveal them to people close to them who aren’t
readers or who don’t share their tastes.
Much that exists between or among these people/personas is in the realm of the
imagination. Characters are imagined by their writers. They come alive for
readers, who add their own imaginings, some perhaps never intended by the
writers. Inevitably, readers are curious about the authors of works they love
(or hate?) and make assumptions about them. What happens to a reader’s attitude
toward authors and their characters if those assumptions are proven false?
We writers write for imaginary readers who may not exist. We have no control
over who reads our books. We put them out into the world, where they are in
effect independent entities at the mercy of cultural and informational elements.
Our books are like messages in bottles cast into the ocean, and like those
bottles may never reach their intended recipients. Or they may be unexpected and
wonderful discoveries for others.
Readers and writers, what do you think about these relationships? Have any
fictional characters come alive for you? Have you ever been disillusioned by
meeting an author or learning things about them?
Images from Pexels and Pixabay.
Posted in Random Thoughts and Observations, Reading, Writing and tagged
fictitious characters, imagination, readers and authors on November 24, 2024 by
Audrey Driscoll. 91 Comments
FADING OUT, COMING IN
Last leaves on Smoke Bush (Cotinus coggygria “Royal Purple”). No longer purple,
and more beautiful.
Tired Smoke Bush leaves
Two flowers of Gentiana acaulis blooming out of season, somewhat battered by
wind and rain. What did they expect?
Final dahlia flower of 2024 with yellowed globe thistle foliage and curry plant
stems. Goodbye until next summer!
Trees stand bare,
The sky unveiled
To moon-eye and star-sparkle.
Welcome, Winter.
Posted in Garden and tagged autumn in the garden, Cotinus coggygria "Royal
Purple", cut flower, fall in the garden, Gentiana acaulis, pink dahlia, smoke
bush on November 17, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll. 41 Comments
ASEMIC
I first saw this word on the blog of abstract artist Tiffany Arp-Daleo. (A blog
I recommend to anyone who appreciates the skillful use of colour and form.)
Then I turned to Wikipedia, my favourite shortcut to basic information, and
found more about this interesting intersection between writing and visual art.
And when I found an image on Pixabay that seemed right for my October 13th post
called “The Power of the Text,” I concluded that what looked like a handwritten
letter behind the bleeding rose was actually asemic writing. That’s when I
decided to put together a post about it.
A lot of philosophical stuff has been written about asemic writing. It’s been
called paradoxical, since nothing is entirely without meaning. Perhaps a more
accurate term is polysemic, since everyone who views examples of this wordless
writing can apply their own interpretation of it. A search on “asemic writing”
in Google Images yields many fascinating examples and information. I suspect the
topic can become a labyrinthine rabbit hole.
Asemic writing is an art form, or is incorporated into visual arts. It’s more
like calligraphy than like writing intended to be read for its message. It’s
been compared to children’s pre-literate efforts at handwriting. It can resemble
Chinese, Arabic, Cyrillic, or any other real writing system, but someone who
actually reads those scripts will recognize it as empty of meaning. Asemic
writing, therefore, may be considered a kind of abstraction of writing. (But
think about this: any writing someone is unable to read is, for that individual,
asemic.)
Asemic writing from Marco Giovenale. This file is licensed under the Creative
Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
What do I find so interesting about asemic writing? Maybe it’s because I like
writing by hand. I don’t do calligraphy, but I enjoy making marks on paper with
a pen, whether words or random shapes. I always doodled in meetings when I was
working.
Maybe it can be called anti-writing. There is no need to match thought with
word, to construct sentences and paragraphs that accomplish something. Instead,
it’s a string of shapes that look like they might have meaning, or ought to, but
do not. They can be arranged so as to suggest poetry, letters, diary entries, or
other forms of writing. A writer at a loss for words may resort to asemic
writing.
Then there’s the suggestion of mystery I see in some examples of asemic writing,
as though the marks are the as yet undeciphered language of a lost civilization.
In some cases (for example, works by American artist Cecil Touchon) the artist
has used an actual printed or typewritten text and placed the asemic writing
over it, rendering the text illegible. This combination of something with
meaning obscured by something without it in order to create a new thing has a
peculiar allure. For months now, I’ve been developing better dexterity (!) in my
left hand. It might be interesting to see what kind of asemic writing that hand
could produce.
Asemic writing from Jean-Christophe Giacottino. This file is licensed under
the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
QUOTATIONS:
“I ended by pointing to the paradoxical nature of this art form: the marks
involved are at once meaningless (since they have no semantic meaning) and
meaningful (since, as an art form, there can be meaning behind their creation –
the intention, emotion, or state of mind expressed – and how the viewer
interprets the marks).” Sam Woolfe, freelance writer, blogger and author. He
goes on to quote artist Ekaterina Samigulina: “The content of asemic writing is
meaningless, period. It is void as a signifier that failed to make its way to
its signified. But it is not meaningless as an act, as a gesture…”
The Wheels of Transformation: Asemic Writing by Tatiana Roumelioti. This file is
licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
International license.
Fellow writers, have any of you created asemic writing, or combined visual arts
with your written works? Or have you been inspired to write by examples of
abstract art? Comments, please!
Featured Image: Asemic Post-graffiti: abstract calligraphy painting by Matox (
Nuno de Matos) This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0
Unported license.
Posted in Writing and tagged abstract art, calligraphy, meaning, meaningless
writing, scripts on November 10, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll. 56 Comments
WISE INSIGHTS INTO INDIE PUBLISHING
K.M. Allan, author of the Blackbirch series, shares some inspiring thoughts
about writing, publishing, and what comes after. Please comment on the original
post; comments closed here.
> Author Lessons: Indie Publishing, Burnout, Author Extras, Control, and Writing
> Project Grief
Posted in Publishing, Reblogs, Writing and tagged book promotion, indie authors,
self publishing on November 8, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll.
LEAVES LEAVING, STAYING, ARRIVING
Many leaves have fallen or are about to. I’m anticipating the last big job of
the garden year—leaf management. That means raking leaves into piles and lugging
them to the compost heap or out to the boulevard for pickup.
But not all leaves are leaving. The foliage of some plants persists through the
winter, and some plants, such as arums, violets, hardy cyclamen, and even
forget-me-nots, are sprouting new foliage right now. The photos below show
combinations of fallen leaves and new or persistent leaves.
The Cotoneaster (a semi-evergreen) in the featured image is busy ripening its
berries. They will be popular with American robins and other birds in a couple
of months.
And an entire tree is leaving the neighbourhood. A large elm fell during a
period of strong southeasterly winds on October 30th. Surprisingly, no major
damage resulted (except to the tree), but some fences, shrubs, and even a garden
railway layout were affected. The tree was cut up and hoisted out in sections by
crane, as seen from my back garden. (The trees in the foreground are in my place
and my next door neighbour’s.)
Posted in Garden, Nature and tagged autumn in the garden, contrasts, fall in the
garden, fallen leaves, fallen tree, foliage, garden photos on November 3, 2024
by Audrey Driscoll. 46 Comments
HOBSON’S MIRROR: A HALLOWEEN TALE
Orange pumpkins grinned on porches, plastic skeletons reclined on lawns,
fusillades of pops and bangs rattled in the distance, and a smell of wood smoke
wafted over all. The soft blue dusk had morphed into suburban night without moon
or stars.
The bonfire in the park was dying down and the hot chocolate and cookies had run
out, leaving only tepid apple juice with cinnamon added. Kids drifted away,
going home, or just going—somewhere, anywhere.
“Too early to go home, and we’re too old for trick or treating.” Charisse kicked
at a pile of leaves and flopped back the brim of her witch’s hat. “Bummer.”
“We could go to Hob’s.” Sarah waved her magic wand in a circle.
“Is that like, a bar? No way they’d let us in.”
“No, silly. My cousin Hobson’s place. It’s just over there.” Sarah pointed with
the wand. “Basement suite.”
“Hobson’s a weird name,” said Charisse. “And he’s really got his own place?”
“Hobson Smith. That’s what my aunt and uncle called him. He lives in their
house. And he’s in college.”
“What’s he studying?”
“All kinds of stuff. Psychology. He wants to make films too. He’s kind of a
nerd.”
“So why would he want us to show up? College guy.”
“Don’t know. He said to come over on Halloween and he’d show us something cool.”
“Hmm. Cool like cool or cool like ice cream?”
“Ice cream would be okay with me.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A big black spider hung over the door to the basement suite. A carved pumpkin
sat on a chair, grinning and glowing. Sarah pounded on the door.
It popped open, revealing a guy in a lab coat and wire-rimmed glasses, holding a
flask of green liquid. The space behind him was dark and “Monster Mash” was
playing.
“Hey, Sarah. Greetings. Trick first, or treat?”
“Treat, definitely. This is Charisse. Char, my cousin Hobson.”
“Come in, come in. Enter if you dare.”
“So who’re you supposed to be?” Sarah put her wand on a nearby pile of stuff and
whipped off her cloak. Charisse added her hat to the pile.
“Don’t you know who I am? Herbert West, mad scientist. The Re-Animator.” He
wiggled the flask.
“This evening could use some reanimating. Is that the cool stuff you wanted to
show us?”
“No, it’s better than that.” Hob motioned them into a room lit by a couple of
flickering candles and pointed to a couch. Two shapes sat at a desk by the
opposite wall, their faces lit up by computer screens. “Janeese and… uh, Luke.
They’re working on stuff; just ignore them. How about some pizza?”
Janeese said “Yo,” and kept on typing. Luke’s computer screen lit up a face with
a goatee and mustache and dark arched eyebrows. He glanced up, winked, and
returned to his work.
Sara and Charisse ate pizza and drank pop while Hob set up a couple of chairs in
front of a full-length mirror leaning against a wall. “Monster Mash” had given
way to some sort of creepy music punctuated by screams and crazy laughs.
“Ever heard of the Troxler Effect? Apophenia?”
The girls shook their heads.
“Well, what about Bloody Mary?”
Charisse paused her pop halfway to her mouth. “That’s where you look in a mirror
and say “Bloody Mary” thirteen times. Then you see a ghost, or a demon or
something.”
“Well, that’s the superstition,” said Hob. “But it’s based on real phenomena.
Looking in a mirror in low-light conditions makes you see some weird stuff. It’s
the way your brain works when it’s given limited input. Want to try it?”
One of the people at the desk—Janeese, Sarah remembered—looked up from her
computer but didn’t say anything.
Sarah swallowed her last bit of pizza. “What do you want us to do?”
“Nothing. Well, just sit on these chairs and look at your reflections in this
mirror. Your own noses, in fact. It works best if you keep your eyes focussed on
a single spot for several minutes.”
Charisse swirled her pop can like she was winding something up. “So have you
tried it?”
“Yeah! My psych instructor had some of us do it in class. It’s cool. A bit
weird, but harmless. Trust me.”
“Famous last words,” Sarah muttered. “But okay.” She hoisted herself off the
couch and shuffled over to one of the chairs. “Come on, Char.”
After a brief hesitation, Charisse slipped onto the other chair. She looked up
at Hob. “What’re you going to do?”
“I will observe, as a scientist should. Okay, focus.”
Sarah focussed. She stared at her reflection, which was a black-on-grey
silhouette. In the dim light, she could barely see her nose and the flickering
candlelight made it hard to focus. Was something happening? Nope. She
refocussed. Seconds slipped by, maybe even minutes. The music changed to some
sort of electronic stuff, an almost sub-aural vibration. The darkness flexed and
shifted. Her reflection’s eye sockets filled with darkness. Deep black pools. In
the mirror, her mouth stretched and yawned, even though she knew it was clamped
shut.
Sarah’s elbow bumped Charisse’s. She looked over at her friend and the spell
broke. But Charisse was staring straight at her own reflection. It looked normal
to Sarah, but then she hadn’t been focussing on it. What would happen if two
people stared at each other’s reflections? She should ask Hobson. Where was he?
Something moved in the mirror. A dark shape loomed behind Sarah and Charisse’s
reflections. A chair scraped the carpet and the shape sat down. What was Hob up
to? That must be him, except he’d taken off the lab coat for some reason. Okay,
she’d focus on his reflection instead of her own.
Sarah stared at Hob’s face in the mirror. She couldn’t actually see his nose,
but kept her eyes on the spot where it must be, counting seconds to help her
concentrate. One, two, three, four, five… She was up to “a hundred and eight”
when the darkness rippled and Hob’s reflection shifted. Wings opened in the
darkness and two points of red light appeared. Eyes? Hob’s eyes glowing red. And
horns sprouting, growing, curling, a grin that looked way too big, full of
pointed teeth.
Charisse screamed and jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair. Sarah tried
to grab her, but she raced for the door. Someone—Janeese—stopped her, murmuring,
“It’s okay, it’s just—hey, Hob, that’s enough! Lights, please.”
Lights flashed on nearby. Hob zipped around the corner from the entry, which was
now lit up. The living room lamps were still dark. Hob wore a look of distress
along with his lab coat.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Are you all right, Charisse?”
Sarah swivelled her head back to the living room. The overturned chair lay in
front of the mirror, in which a shape bobbed and jittered. A shape with pointed
horns and two glowing red eyes.
Sarah whirled around. There was no one behind her. Hob and Janeese were with
Charisse, trying to calm her down. But the demonic reflection was still there,
until it grew fainter and faded away. One of the red eyes gave a slow wink
before it vanished.
Sarah stepped over to Hob. “Where’s that other guy? Luke—was that his name? He’s
gone.”
“So he is,” said Hob. He turned to Janeese. “Who is he, anyway?”
“You’re asking me? I have no idea. I thought he was a friend of yours. He said
something about being in drama. No, wait. He said he liked to create drama.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Troxler Effect and apophenia are real, as is the Bloody Mary legend. Find
out more in this Wikipedia article.
Images from Pixabay or Pexels, except for devil image, which was generated by
WP’s AI.
Posted in Writing and tagged Halloween story, short stories on October 30, 2024
by Audrey Driscoll. 45 Comments
FLORAL FINALE
The title may be overly dramatic, because Victoria BC is famous for its mild
climate with many plants blooming into winter, but an “atmospheric river”
(meaning lots of rain) is predicted for this weekend. Flowers blooming now may
be mush in a few days.
Today (October 17th) featured intervals of sun and cloud. When the sun came out,
so did I, to take a few photos.
Autumn crocuses have increased nicely in the garden. I popped in a few bulbs
here and there years ago, and now there are sizeable patches of them in a number
of spots. The flowers are rather fragile, and remain closed on cloudy days, so I
was happy to see a few respond to sunshine this morning.
This is the single flower on a dahlia plant I grew from a cutting this summer.
The plan is to winter it inside (it’s in a pot) and plant it out in the front
garden next spring. There is a small white spider at the 3 o’clock position;
click on the photo to enlarge. I think it might be a crab spider. I’ve seen
similar ones on delphinium flowers at times.
This cluster of flowers on Aster frikartii “Mönch” shows these star-like
flowers living up to their name (“Aster” comes from the ancient Greek word for
“star.”)
Posted in Garden and tagged aster "Monch", Crocus speciosus, dahlia, fall
blooming plants on October 20, 2024 by Audrey Driscoll. 38 Comments
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GOODREADS
GOODREADS: READ
Stormbrewer
by Mary Walz
Similarly to Firebrand, the first book in this series, Stormbrewer begins with
the main character using magic and suffering the consequences. Unlike Saray's
sequence of flights and perils, though, Ruby is rescued and arrives in the
safet...
Summerday: Book 2 of the War Bunny Chronicles
by Christopher St. John
This book continues the story begun by War Bunny. The refusal of prey animals to
submit to carnivorous predators triggers an outright war, led by a group of
golden wolves. They gather their allies (coyotes, foxes, weasels, and crows)
int...
This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism
by Ashton Applewhite
I'm not sure for whom this book is intended: old people, young people, ageists,
or those looking for a cause to embrace. It speaks to all of those groups and
more. I found the first few chapters encouraging, full of facts and figures
ind...
Fungi from Yuggoth: An Annotated Edition
by H.P. Lovecraft
I will say right from the start that my 5-star rating of this book is not due
entirely to the quality of the poetry, but rather to the depth and thoroughness
of the additional material compiled by editor David E. Schultz. (This applies
o...
The Dream-Quest Of Unknown Kadath
by H.P. Lovecraft
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A Writer's Life: Business and Personal
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