I hit a milestone in the current manuscript of 40 thousand words. No matter how many drafts I do, something about hitting that many words is a magical feeling.

This past week I've been thinking a lot about inspiration and where the ideas come from. So many times other mediums outside the written word. The nexus of an idea may come from the line in a song, a story from the forgotten pages of history, or an image.

Europeana always has images full of rich colors, images across the years, as it's pulled from the collections across Europe. My Spotify is full of playlists containing music across genres, always looking for that next idea.

I love how experiences can all pull together and find its way out into my stories. Reading, learning, exploring all shape the perspective and just lead to more ideas.

Have a great weekend!

Not quite of course, but the book is in to the editor. I officially just have to wait until her edits are done. At least with that draft. I can always tell when I am done with a story, when I start getting excited by new ideas for the sequel and outside the box ideas. It's times like these, right before I decide what project to start, I really do wish I can do this writing gig full time.

Still do what you can. I hope it's a happy Thursday for you! Here is a picture of some street art I saw in the West Loop last week to tide  you over.

Have a great weekend!

Chicago is currently 60 odd degrees and that is starting to feel cold enough to fall to indulge in light jackets while porch sitting. This morning, I went to the Maiden Voyage Cafe that is my neighborhood. I love their food! I usually get the Nihilist, which I always mispronounce, for breakfast (pictured) and gobble it down. They always serve it on the long rectangle plate and at least one brussel sprout or potato  will get knocked off the plate. My beta readers (aka family, thanks family!) got their notes back to me on my current draft so I wanted to go through everything. The past few months have gone by so quickly that I wanted to get a move on so I don't have to scramble getting it to my editor on the agreed date of October 1.

I got to cross a few more places off my travel list this week as the day job took me to New York City. I didn't get to see much more then what I could see out a cab window but that was enough for Brooklyn Bridge and signs for Time Square. Crazy to me how different a city can be in look and feel. Coming back my direct flight to Chicago was cancelled, so I got to experience the wonders of the Houston (Hobby) airport.

Stay safe, drink water, and I wish you better travel luck then I had this week!

I got back to the studio this week to work on a print.

Letterpress printing is always an exercise in patience and tends to reward those detail oriented. Sputnik Press has open studio time on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays for about four hours for each day. To complete a usual project, like this one, I normally need two sessions. One to handset the type and then one to actually set up, run the press and final clean-up. Depending on the amount of text, I could probably get away with one session, but since I like more then one line it will usually take me two. On my last poem, it took me four sessions. Two to set, one to run, and one to clean-up.  Of course, I made it more complicated. For something like Nature, I can set the lines the same, and there aren't too many gaps. The quote is from Emerson’s work called Nature.

I used 5.5” by 8.5” paper with green ink something called ivy moss. I used this color for the first time, but it came out well. Once I had the lock-up on the bed of the press, I needed about three adjustments through. Even with catching spelling errors and using the wrong type piece, the type won’t necessarily catch the ink. There are different ways to accomplish making sure each letter is inked.

I think all in all the prints turned out well. My spelling errors and wrong letters have gone down dramatically. Since each letter is hand set, and put away by hand, it’s easy to pick up a “b” placed in the wrong drawer and not realize it until your on press. Luckily, Adam came out spelled correctly!

Most of it comes down to stubbornness. I’ll switch out the letters, double check the look and then go from there. It doesn’t meet the fine printing standards, but I tend to think that’s part of the reason to do the letterpress printing with the handset type. Working within the constraints to create.

Crazy to believe I was in Bali, Indonesia just a few weeks ago. Luckily I wasn't caught up in any of the trouble currently going in Lombok due to the earthquake.

I loved going on vacation and turning off my brain from work for a few weeks. You know that list you keep thinking you need to tackle? My to-do list had write and post each week and then I'd need to buy groceries or do the dishes or take a nap (no real regret, naps are great) and it never quite got done.

I'm happy to report though that I haven't been completely behind on the writing. Don't Belong to No City, my upcoming book, is out to the beta readers and I'll send it to the editor I'm working with this fall. You may have noticed I pushed back the release date. This is the first time I've elected to use an editor so I'm nervous and excited for their feedback. While my betas are reading the draft, I'm hard at work at my newest book. It's still percolating so I won't bother saying much. I think next release will be Book 3 in the Ravana series. It's already written and so is most of Book 4, but they've been gathering dust. I wanted a break from that world, something about those characters take a lot of emotional energy. I feel ready now to jump back in.

On another note, I'm still working on letterpress and am loving doing broadsides. I hope to branch out soon to chapbooks and maybe looking at some book binding techniques.

Hope everyone is taking care of themselves. Wear sunscreen and drink water!
Olivia

Dream of rusty robots
Rusty red-scoured robots that tilt over to the side,
against walls, against each other
Against you.
Dream of grey robots
Grey slinky-seal robots that rummage
through file cabinets, once locked,
Your memories.
Dream of live robots
Live jazz-cool robots that slam
on pianos, breaking floors, while
You sing.
Dream of bitter robots
Bitter dust-covered robots that fight
each other, fight the wind,
tear the sky, set
You against--

I recently finished Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Big Magic. I’d always loved her TED talk, and finally got around to reading the book that went on further go into her creative philosophy. In a way, her book was affirmative to me. How being creative is it’s own reward, it’s own work. How the act of creating does not always lead to fame, fortune, and shouldn’t be relied upon in life. It was a reminder to keep creating, to keep working, to steal time. Creating as gift that must be earned.

What I found interesting was the amount of time spent on detailing the need to send work out to slush piles, journals, and short stories—essentially working to get stories published the traditional way. Gilbert worked to become a writer before the options of self-publishing were mainstream. Anyone self-publishing was doing so through zines or having to shell out a lot of money up front, and any avenue would have limited distribution.  It is a crazy world we now live that anyone can upload a text document and have a book.

The route of self-publishing has its own challenges. Primarily, being willing to claim the title of “author,” without making it past the gatekeepers. You have to steal the mark of approval; you have to earn it by your readers. Readers won by word of mouth, by reviews, from the grassroots, by the author’s ability. While self-published authors will have their own social media campaigns, and time in traditional advertising, for so many, publishing is sending a work out there without even the hug of a publishing company believing in you.

I’d like to argue that’s a good thing. Is every work that’s self published great? Nah. I’d personally love the ability to hire an editor, but that’s not in the budget. But many self-published works are great. Or they identify with people in ways that not everyone expects. It allows the possibility of more diversity, more cross-pollination of genres. All in all publishing work digitally allows creativity to blossom. In reading Gilbert’s book, I thought there was a bit of a missed opportunity in her talks regarding how the view of artist needs to change, we also should examine how the action of creating has changed is something we are all on the cusp of.

I personally can’t wait to see where it goes next. 

Hey Everyone,
It’s been quiet on the blog, I know. Hopefully, I’ll now post on a more regular basis. I’ve been working furiously on finishing up my graduate program am done with that (yay!). I figured this would translate into more productivity here or my own work, but all I’ve been doing is watching the Great British Bakeshow and going down the rabbit hole over at Archive of Our Own.

I’ve finished up the draft of my current work in progress. This one is number five. Normally I don’t work that way. I do some plotting, some world building, go to town, and then start writing, then editing. This time I got five (5!) substantial drafts of the same work. This story was different with a first person narrative, and the characters were being stubborn. I like where it’s at though and will start editing now.

The work is set in the future and is based on the assumption humanity doesn’t change its ways and the repercussions from that—essentially post global warming, post genetic modification, post nation states—provide the setting for a powerful character.

I’ve found a lot of my stories really do start to fall back on that phrase attributed to John Gardner. There are only two kinds of stories: "A hero goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town." This story is a mix of both.

Keep an eye on the blog, or follow me on twitter for more updates!

​I worry all the time: 

Because my mother
taught me not 
to trust a man, who
has good intentions like
buying candy on anniversaries.

Because my father
taught me not
to trust a woman, who
smiles without any
teeth through red lips when
accepting flowers. 

Because my sister
taught me not 
to trust a man, who
laughs at every joke
another woman makes. 

Because my brother
taught me not 
trust a woman, who
has good intentions like
sharing the last cigarette.

I worry
because my mother, my father, my sister, my brother
never tell me to trust them either. 

I worry
because my family
never will tell me what 
happens when trust is
broken.

[is candy poisoned/flowers dangerous/
just not funny/smoking kills/woman/man/left with the dogs]
 
No one ever tells me,
Because some truths just take time
Like trusting a man, who
sings in the shower every morning
Like trusting a woman, who
plays dominios and never cheats
Like that.
And finding out there were things your
Family didn’t warn you about.

my grandmother
can't wear watches.
she and time are
old enemies--he kills
the timekeepers dead
the moment they dare
touch
her skin.

his greatest revenge
was my birth.
the clock above the fireplace,
gold filigree, walnut encased,
that hadn't worked in days
(or was it years?)
chimed 13 times the day
my mother labored.

a new born reminder that
he would always win.

now i never wear
watches and am
always
late.

out of respect.

you understand.