Three More Inks: Waterman Tender Purple, Noodler's Purple Heart, Noodler's Lexington Gray

More mini-reviews as I continue to try out a backlog of samples from Goulet Pens. I don't have my old camera up and running and my phone is being kind of stupid when it comes to focusing, but the colors are more important than my scribbling anyway...

1. Waterman Tender Purple

Continuing the theme of liking inks I shouldn't and disliking those I should, I (a firm believer in permanent and water resistant inks) love with this ink. It is silky smooth, has a perfect amount of blue to the color (I prefer violet leaning purples) and is so vibrant I could kiss it.

It also becomes illegible if you so much as drip condensation on it from a frosty beverage.

I'm not sure if I could live with this ink, but I like it an awful lot. My perfect purple would be this color, but with at least enough water resistance to leave me something to trace. I ended up ordering Noodler's North African Violet to fill that role. It's not a perfect match and it doesn't have the silky smooth nib feel of the Waterman, but it is a vibrant purple with strong water resistance.

Noodler's North African Violet

2. Noodler's Purple Heart

This is a Goulet Pens exclusive. I admire the sentiment behind the ink, and (like other Eel inks I've tried) I like the writing quality, though (as with the Cactus Fruit I mentioned previously) it can disagree a bit with poorer quality paper. However, the color...isn't what I expected. Much more toward the red side of purple, and just generally...missing something. It's all right, but I don't need any more.

3. Noodler's Lexington Gray

How exciting can grey be, right? It's basically just black with some light shed on it. But I like this ink. I find it soothing. It is a rather true grey--DIY chromatography (dripping ink on wet paper towel) doesn't reveal much if any other color in the mix. Really, it looks a bit like pencil might if pencil was liquid with shading. And maybe that's why I like it--that and the fact that it's one of Noodler's "Bulletproof" colors, waterproof and fade resistant, and very well behaved even on pretty crummy paper.

Being as how I have so many other business-like inks already, it doesn't quite make the current wish list, but I don't rule it out forever, either.

Arrogant, Elegant, Smart?

I've been trying to get a Throwback Thursday post up most weeks, but this week, I'm too preoccupied about the future to successfully contemplate the past.

This coming Saturday, I'm signed up for a real, honest-to-goodness writer's conference. It's a fairly small one in a fairly small town, and is more lecture than critique. Still, I'm nervous. I feel like an impostor. I feel like if I'm not careful, someone will ask me a question a Real Writer would know the answer to, and I'll be exposed as a fraud. A shocked silence will fall, and I'll be cast into the outer darkness to wail and gnash my teeth.

Something like that.

Or at the very least, I'm not sure how to introduce myself if--God forbid--anyone asks me to do so.

• Do I admit to writing all my life, to many years of short stories and essays and even completed novel-length works, and say I'm there to learn more about editing and marketing? Or is that arrogant?

• Do I act aloof and blase: say I've always been kind of curious about having a go at writing and that I'm just there out of curiosity?

• Or do I resort to my common role in music circles: playing the total beginner, so I have excuses for any shortcomings, but limiting myself because I'm basically saying "Don't take me seriously"?

As I once again pondered these questions this morning, this song (performed by Danny Kaye in The Inspector General) popped into my head. Doesn't really address my conundrum, but it makes me smile.

Learning to Draw

Well, I did it: I ordered a book (some seem to believe it to be *the* book) on learning to draw: Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, by Betty Edwards.

Years ago, Mom went through the early portion of this book with us kids, but I don't think I was more than ten or so at the time. It's been awhile. About all I remember is drawing birds, and even then, my younger brother (now a graphic design professional and an artist in fact) was so obviously so much better than me I hard a hard time even trying.

I don't really fancy myself an artist, but there are times when I wish I had the ability to sketch ideas visually as well as verbally. I'm also just curious to see what it does to the way I perceive the world around me, what details I notice and retain. Seeing more clearly is as much a benefit for writing as it is for drawing and painting.

I'm looking forward to this little adventure!

What about you? Do you ever draw or paint? What do you feel you get out of it? What do you like best? What do you find challenging or frustrating?

Eeeevolution Resolution

Just wanted to thank those of you who took the time to comment on my recent post (now hidden) regarding the once and future Little Flower Petals. I appreciate the thoughts! My conclusion: I think I'm going to keep it like it is, and go back to using Thorns and Blossoms as originally intended, for more faith related and introspective posts. Of course, now I've already confused everyone, but hey.

For better or worse, Little Flower Petals is a reflection of me: rather messy, generally (but inconsistently) enthusiastic, occasionally morbid, tending toward self-indulgence and impatience but striving for generosity and kindness, and always eclectic. I suppose anyone who knows me well knows all these things already, and will not be shocked. And if they don't...well, I yam what I yam, and it can't hurt to reveal it.

An example of being what I is: I sold a typewriter today (the Olivetti Underwood Studio 21, since I need to raise fund for the road trip with my sister at the end of the month AND I don't like typewriters sitting around unused and I tend to use the Olympias). As I was getting ready to head out, scrambling to find some scrap paper and the typewriter dust cover and all, I realized my hands were all stained with fountain pen ink, and had to stop to scrub THAT off. Yep, that's me.

Incidentally, the Studio 21 went to a good, typewriter loving home. You know you've sold a typewriter to a real enthusiast when you bump into the buyer again five minutes later at the Goodwill down the road where you've headed to check out possible "new" machines in spite of yourself....

Starting the Day Off Write

Have you heard of morning pages? I can't recall where I first saw them mentioned, though in researching (to give credit where credit is due) I find it's an idea which was popularized via Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way," a book which I admit I have not read and on which I cannot offer an opinion.

In any case, the concept is simple: first thing in the morning, as soon as you roll out of bed, before your brain has had the chance to fully wake and get its house in order, you sit down and write three full pages. Longhand. That's right: just you and a notepad and a pen or pencil.

What do you write about? Whatever pops into your head. Write about the crazy dream you just escaped. Write about your plans or worries for the day. Write about what you're going to eat for breakfast. Write about how weird the word "morning" looks to you right now, for some reason. Write about the sound of the rain and how it reminds you of sleeping in the back bedroom at your grandmother's house that July between sixth and seventh grade, when birds created a nest under the eaves and one memorable afternoon, a fledgling flew in though the window and about gave Grandma's fat old tabby cat a heart attack.

There are no rules. Just fill those three pages.

As you'd kind of expect, much of what I write is dreadfully dull or complete nonsense. However, in giving myself the freedom to explore whatever comes to mind, I've also found the seeds of short stories or poems or blog posts, wrestled with life decisions, and sorted out tangled scenes in larger works-in-progress. It's also a good way to work on writing discipline: simply sitting down at a given time each day, knowing you have to write something, no matter how sleepy and uninspired you may feel.

In a perfect world, I think I would always start my days with morning pages, and end them with writing down my "Three Good Things." In practice, I manage stints of three or four days at a time, but have never really gotten consistent about it. And I should.

Have you ever tried morning pages? If so, how have they worked for you?

How Does My Garden Grow?

This weekend friends with a truck helped me haul dirt and fill all my Smart Pots, so the garden is beginning to take real shape!

I have a few seedlings which may or may not survive transplanting (cucumbers and tomatoes), planted summer squash and delicata squash this weekend, and hope to get tomato plants, pepper plants, and onion starts in the next week. Sugar snap peas are already growing in the fake ceramic pot to the left in the top photo.

I've labeled the pots with index cards for now, with the descriptions written in bright blue, fade-proof Uni-ball Vision ink. Time will tell how the paper holds up to repeated watering and drying out. Hopefully it lasts long enough that the plants have grown enough I don't need ID--that's really all I ask.

And now...we wait!

Inadequate

Hey, it's been awhile since I did a woe-is-me post! How about we break that trend?

I've been feeling pretty down lately, cheery Facebook and Twitter posts notwithstanding. You could call it post-NaNoWriMo slump, and I suppose that's part of it, but not merely because of the change of pace. The truth is, my story was much smaller and less meaningful than I hoped it would be. Less mystery. Less complexity. Not much more than ordinary people in a slightly less than ordinary setting. Simple, fairly predictable. All right, I guess, in its own way, but nothing like my original vision and certainly no Great American Novel.

Which is pretty much always how these things turn out. And I end up feeling rather like someone who sets out to create a symphony, only to find themselves unable to compose anything more than a predictable little single line melody. Depressing, especially when you know enough to appreciate and admire the complexity and texture and richness of something deeper, but can't summon any of that into your own head.

Sometimes I feel like a poseur in the writing and blogging world in general. For one thing, it seems like writing, at least in today's world, primarily belongs to people who come from appalling-but-colorful circumstances, or to people you might call the elite: well educated, well traveled, highly experienced. People who have had the time and money to volunteer in remote locations, or to travel to historic sites all over the world, to brush elbows with the best and brightest in a variety of fields--or who are, in fact, among the best in brightest in their fields.

On the other hand, people from lower middle class but stable backgrounds, shabby but never quite destitute; people without college degrees or exotic experiences; people who settled into dull jobs at a rather young age and who have never had time or money for anything more exciting than splurging on a CD or a new pair of shoes or a trip to the beach now and again: these are not writer material, at least not unless they are geniuses or "edgy" or are extroverts with incredible drive and originality. Or so it seems sometimes.

So I haven't felt much like blogging or working on finishing my story, because it feels rather pointless. And yet, writing may be what I'm best at (which is not at all the same as saying I'm good at it), and I feel a bit lost when it isn't part of my days.

I suppose the secret is to accept one's limitations and work within them. Paint with the palette you have at your disposal instead of packing it all away for want of better materials. If you can only write simple little slightly-formulaic stories about more or less ordinary folk, make them the very best simple little slightly-formulaic stories about more or less ordinary folk you are capable of writing.

But it's hard sometimes not to get so bound up in frustration and envy that you tie your own hands until you are incapable of creating anything at all.

NaNoNoNoNoNoNo Not Ready!

So, let's see...locally, we have about 36 hours to go until the NaNoWriMo madness begins. Where do I stand?

• I did a lot of *claiming* to plan back in September.

• I did some actual *attempted* planning in October.

• I got as far as boldly labeling a pocket notebook "NaNoWriMo 2013" in anticipation of using it for ideas and notes.

• My current plot goes something like this: What if? Then something. And bam, SOMETHING!

In other words, I got nothin'. I am tempted to scrap my vague idea and rewrite an old idea instead.

But hey, NaNoWriMo is all about embracing your inner pantser, right? Right??

NaNoNotebook, plus the rest of my current pocket notebooks: the Field Notes is for NaNo, the Scout Book below it is a logbook of sorts with brief notes on each day, the Moleskine cahier below that is for to-dos, and my brain-dump notebook is on the bottom.

Ancient Family Tradition: World's Laziest Halloween Costume

As I've mentioned a time or two, I'm the oldest of eight kids. That's a lot of Halloween costumes to design, a lot of kids to be high on sugar and excitement. Add to this the fact that I grew up in Vermont, where Halloween costumes often must be compatible with sub-freezing temperatures. Inevitably one kid ended up that night with a costume that fell apart at the last minute, or which proved inadequate for the weather or which lost some crucial component. For these situations, Mom designed...the dog costume.

Now, lots of people dress up like dogs or cats for Halloween, but usually these are fancy schmancy deals involving ears on little headbands and detailed makeup done from kits with step-by-step directions, and maybe even a furry suit. This was not our way. Instead, Mom would scrounge through the dryer and the bin of lost socks and find two more or less black socks that more or less matched, and tuck these into a hat as ears. Then she'd take a wine cork and burn it slightly, and use that to give us a black nose.

That was pretty much it. A few dots on the cheeks, maybe. Black clothes if we had them.

Most years at least the baby went as a dog, and I remember one year (I think Mom was newly pregnant with one of my youngest siblings and really not much feelin' Halloween) we went as an entire PACK of puppies. People loved it. "Aw, so cute! What a great idea!"

I've used it as a fallback a couple of times even as an adult, most recently at a party this Saturday when it was either that or go uncostumed. I did solicit other ideas, some of which were pretty funny: writing "Error 404: Costume not found" on a t-shirt, for example, or Mike Clemens' mustache-on-a-stick method of playing both yourself and your evil twin, or (horrrrible, but still funny) wearing biking clothes, taping a syringe to my arm, and going as Lance Armstrong. But in the end, I went for the dog.

It ended up pretty slapdash. For one thing, it turned out my only black socks had writing on them, so I turned them inside out so at least they'd say "Dr. Scholls" in blurry backward fuzz instead of as a crisp, clear tattoo. For another, I didn't want to drive up I-5 with a black nose, so I applied it in the bathroom when I got there (burnt cork) while small children banged on the door and whispered theatrically about needing to peeeee. So it came out rather lopsided.

Whatever. Good 'nough. That's the name of the game.

NaNoWriMo 2013: In Which I Cheerfully Predict Washout

A new current mess-o'-pencils photo for ya...

But given as how it's a just-for-fun year, I can see embracing whatever methods I feel like using on a given day, whether that be pencil, fountain pen, typewriter (I have scads of scrap paper after cleaning up for the office move!), Alphasmart, or even (gasp!) this vulgar beast, the personal computer.

What about you? Are you planning to be a purist of one stripe or another? If so, what sort? And, if you feel like sharing, what are you writing about? Me, I'm either going to completely rewrite my magic detective story(*3) from a few years back or go with the new idea which hit me in August, and which I'd rather not give away entirely. In essence, it has to do with avatars, but in a way I've not seen used before.

Looking forward to getting my hands dirty, whether that be literally (in the case of pens, pencils and typewriter ribbons) or figuratively! Hope to see many of you join me! (*4)

*1 What in the world is this "Eucharistic Adoration" thing? The info here is pretty well laid out. My parish actually has "perpetual" adoration, meaning that someone is there praying before the Blessed Sacrament 24 hours a day. We take it in turns, and Wednesdays from 6-7AM are my hour. 

 *2 Incidentally, for you Catholics out there, I can't recommend Fulfillment of All Desire enough: it tells the stories of some of the greatest Doctors of the Church (St. Augustine, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, St. Catherine of Sienna, St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Francis de Sales and St. Therese of Lisieux) and lays their writings out in parallel, with commentary to help make them all approachable and easy to understand. It's a lovely book. My Dad went through a phase where he handed out copies to pretty much anyone who stood still long enough (and more, via mail), and in reading it, I can see why. 

 *3 It's a noir style mystery novel! With magic! And taxis! And frogs and dragons and stuff! You should totally buy it if I ever finish it! Which is doubtful! 

 *4 For any of you who would like to add me as a friend on the NaNoWriMo site, please feel free! My username is RosieCotton.

***Typecast courtesy of the Robo-typeface Olympia SM-9 which came to me from Richard Polt by way of notagain at Manual Entry.***

Just Plain Silly

I have no explanation or excuse for this.

(Don't mind the false starts and extra lines that wouldn't erase...)

The knowledge that I mostly doodled it while listening to rather dark Rachmaninoff adds a certain je ne se quois.

Are You Good Enough?

A rose I drew awhile back, and almost immediately hid from public

 view, because it's...shoddy. But you know? Shoddy is OK.

This post by Stephanie of Rhodia Drive really struck a chord with me:
Art Making is Accessible to Everyone

I am afraid to mess up. More than that: I am afraid of being found inadequate. In many ways, I've always felt like this. While my brothers happily doodled away as kids, I would set the bar impossibly high, and give up in frustration when I couldn't reach it.

To some extent, I've gotten past this in writing and music--especially music. Yes, I do have moments of frustration. I wish I'd started younger. I wish I was more consistent. I wish certain aspects came to me more intuitively. But I enjoy music within my own limitations, with full knowledge that I'm never going to reach stratospheric greatness.

Writing can be a little more challenging. There are times when I wonder why I work at it at all, because I will never be able to write in the ways some of my favorite authors write. I don't have Vernor Vinge's scientific mind, therefore "I can't write." I don't have Ralph McInerny's grasp of theology and knowledge of academia, therefore "I can't write." I've never suffered extreme poverty or pain, I've not traveled to exotic places, I've not done x, therefore "I can't write."

Getting beyond that, to find my own voice, to accept my own style...this is difficult. But, at least on an intellectual level, I know "all God's creatures got a place in the choir." I'm not, for example, Gene Wolfe. But neither is David McCullough. Neither is Elizabeth Berg or Terry Pratchett, or Jasper Fforde, or Elizabeth Moon, or a multitude of other authors (or casual bloggers) I've enjoyed. Some writers create extravagant and scientifically perfect worlds. Some expose, through meticulous research, a particular period in history. Some simply make you laugh. Some help you to see plain old folks just a little more clearly. Somewhere in that spectrum, there may just be room for me. It may not always be the room I'd prefer at given moments, but...there's room.

Art--as in visual art--has been more challenging still. And I think it may well be key to overcoming what is really a false sort of pride: this fear not even of complete failure, but merely inadequacy. Because it's OK to create art for fun. It's OK to create art imperfectly. It's OK to create art with no larger purpose than simply creating art: for the joy and childlike wonder of exploring artistic expression.

I like this quote from the post on Rhodia Drive. "...they learn to be OK with the quality of their expressions and do it anyway. This was my path. I wanted to make art and so I did."

Another Adventure in Not Quite DIY: Saving a Tune Book

Yes, it's grubby...but alive!

When I started playing at the Wednesday night Irish session, I picked up a copy of their tune book. We don't tend to play from sheet music during the session, but (along with plenty of listening) it's a good resource for learning the local version of the tunes, or for remembering how something starts.

The only trouble is that the books are inexpensively bound, with plain cardstock covers and plastic comb binding. After over a year of dragging it around with me, the cardstock was getting grimy and tattered, and the plastic comb had cracked in places. I knew if things kept going this way, sooner or later it would completely fall apart. So, based on my good experience with my not quite DIY notebooks, I took action.

I took it to the local Office Depot and had them trim off the comb binding. I could have just had them put on a new unbroken comb binding, but in my experience with other music books, spiral bindings work much better. Comb bindings just aren't as amenable to rough usage, tossed into overstuffed music bags or cases. In addition, the pages don't turn as smoothly and you can't easily fold a book back on itself. So spiral it was.



 I'd also planned to have them add a clear outer cover to augment the cardstock covers, but the gal who I worked with suggested we try laminating the existing covers instead, and that worked out well. It's hard to tell from the photos, but it's sturdy plastic laminate, similar to the sort used (or which used to be used) for things like drivers licenses and student IDs. It should last through a good amount of hard treatment.

It's not perfect: in trimming to remove the comb, everything is left a little off center. And of course, the lamination preserved the griminess of the original covers for all time. (To my amusement, it also captured some pencil scribbled reminders I'd meant to erase later...oops!)  This would not be at all the way to preserve or restore something precious. But my book is easier to use now, and the new lamination and binding will vastly extend its life. I'm happy with that.

Total cost: about seven dollars. Cheaper than a new book, in any case. I really wish I'd taken a few "before" pictures, but it didn't occur to me!

From the Realm of Realllly Bad Puns

The sentences are examples taken from old grammar text books, because the idea of doing so amused me.

Typecast: No Parallels

Friends and Nemeses (and Emma)

I could mention that I did *try* to do a typecast version of the index card note, since you're likely getting sick of trying to decipher my handwriting, but my typewriters don't care much for these cards and after a certain amount of arguing with them, I gave up.

OK, some of you asked for mandolin samples.  This will teach you to be careful what you ask for.  Here are a coupla tunes:

1. Emma's Waltz, with a friend playing chords.  It's a little too slow.  Also, because I'm petrified, there are no dynamics or variations or that.  I do love this tune, though.  It's purty.

2. Lark in the Morning.  This second tune is one I've been fighting with tooth and nail: a four part Irish jig they play at the local Irish session pretty much every week.  I took an instant dislike to it and it became a nemesis of sorts: every time I tried to learn it, my brain put up an instant barrier.  "Uh-uh.  Not letting THAT THING in here.  No sir!"  But this past weekend I decided to put aside past differences and try to make friends with it.  It's rather growing on me now, though there may be a certain amount of Stockholm Syndrome coming into play.  This is an imperfect take, but it was also about take fifteen.  Good 'nough, I guess.  You get the idea.  Keep in mind that at a session, I'd be just one of a dozen instruments playing it...kinda boring with just mando, and you hear every stinkin' flaw.

I've gotten to practice a bit today, since I'm currently snowed in, and could potentially be so again tomorrow.  Pretty stuff, though!

Monsters and Musgraves

Sometimes my desk looks like I killed a large, blue-blooded monster and tried to mop up the evidence. (In reality, this was just an unfortunate incident with a sample of Private Reserve Electric DC Supershow Blue--luckily most of the ink made it into a pen!)

And sometimes, even though I can't draw, I doodle monsters. Like this guy. (Apologies to Hank Sr.!)

In other news, I already broke my pencil buying moratorium. You knew that was going to happen, right? It's my birthday Monday. I used that as an excuse. That and the free shipping on Amazon orders over $25.  Has anyone else tried the Musgrave Test Scoring 100 (especially Speculator)? If not, I may pass some out. I'd be curious to get your thoughts.

A NaNoWriMo Related Self Pep Talk

As I was avoiding writing today, I started playing with the various writing implements on my desk. I like how these look together...autumn leaf colors!

It's frustrating. Two weeks ago, I was in writing frenzy mode. I wanted to spend all day every day scribbling everything that popped into my head. And my head was busy. My mind was bubbling over with ideas. I was so excited about the prospect of NaNoWriMo I could hardly see straight. This week? Not so much. There were days I didn't even manage a brief journal entry. Once I start one I usually manage a few words, but...ugh...I'm not feeling it. Doesn't bode well for November.

Or does it? Isn't that, in a nutshell, part of what this whole NaNoWriMo thing is about: to show us that even when we have the writing blahs, we can still do great things? As Jack London so colorfully put it, "You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."

Watch out, Inspiration. I've got you in my sights.

Star of the County Down...sort of.

I think I'm going to start putting these music posts up on occasion--not normally this frequently, but now and again--primarily as a means of working on the stage fright I mentioned. Even faced with a microphone, I go dry-mouthed, so this is a good exercise: just recording them and letting them hang out there all public-like.

I can hear the nerves in this one, big time, but I'm done trying for the perfect take. It's an instrumental fingerstyle arrangement I did of an Irish song called Star of the County Down, which is often done in a more march-like 4/4 version...but this was the way I first learned it.

I swear, I *can* play in keys other than A minor. Honest, I can!

Guitar goofing and goofing up

At the type-in, the subject of playing music came up, and someone (Justin?) asked me if I played with a band.  I answered (tongue in cheek) "Not currently."  And then spent the rest of the day worried someone had actually believed I meant it, and that I can actually, in fact, play well enough for such things.  I can't.

But I have had the guitar out more since then, out of shame, so there has been that benefit.

Here's something I came up with years ago that I've been goofing around with again: two chords, very simple melody, fingerpicked.  Lots of the audio equivalent of typos: my fingers were tired and I kept buzzing, my guitar wasn't completely in tune.  Not to mention Tam gets in his two cents at the end, sort of throwing me off.  The tune needs a title one of these days.  It's in A minor, so the "A minor thing" name on the track means that it is, in fact, an A Minor thing.  Not a minor thing.  Or, actually, it is a rather minor thing, but...

Oh, never mind.

Anyhow, it kinda feels nice, having sore fingers again!