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Aug. 16th, 2009 10:45 pmMy name is mud: I didn't trip up Garth Nix. How am I going to redeem my reputation? What's more, I told a toilet joke during a panel today. A bad one, at that. Everyone was being sober and serious about the relationship writers have with history and I turned it into a toilet joke ("What sort of trouble does a city have when nightsoil contracts can't be negotiated? A shitload."). This is not like me at all.
What's more like me is leading friends astray because my food yesterday evening wasn't interesting enough (lunchtime was fine, thanks to Emma). First towards Indian food, then towards Malaysian food. Not exotic, but reassuring and friendly and nice. Much better than skipping meals and wondering why I was tired. Also, it meant I got more good company with really cool people. Mind you, I got the company yesterday (just not much food round dinnertime). I ate beef rendang today, and dhal, and roti, and long beans with nice spices, and these are all comfort foods for me. I also had some rather nice chicken and some vegies and my favouritest hot chutney in the world. If you want to ask me a favour, the next hour is about the right time, while I am still warm and comforted from happy foods.
A group of us missed some wonderful panels today. We blame Jane Austen, but it might really be Colin Firth's fault. We visited the Jane Austen's clothes exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria (which is quite a different place from the National Gallery of Australia, non-Aussies may want to know). It was lovely. Mostly from the right time and place (and in spectacular condition) with just a touch from modern films. Just the right film clothes for Aimee, at least, who melted at the sight of the outfit Colin Firth wore for several of the more romantic scenes of Pride and Prejudice. It was an hour very well spent, as the exhibition was very nicely lit and we could see every stitch. If you're lucky Kathleen will blog about it and maybe show a sketch or two. I hope so.
I loved my two panels. Sean McMullen and I argued amicably on one ("You're different," I told him, at one stage, trying to explain something. "People are always telling me that," he allowed.) Bill Wright sat between us and kept the peace. Sean is one of the main scholars of Norma K Hemming's work and Bill is one of the main proponents of the Norma K Hemming Award and I was the panel's feminist, explaining why we need such an award. We were preaching to the converted, but it was an interested group and a nice size one. If anyone wants to hear more about the Award, which is basically Australia's Tiptree, I'd be happy to do a post on it. I can't take any credit for it though - the hard yakka was done by a group of rather wonderful Western Australians and Victorians. I was roped in today because of my background, and was very happy to have been included.
Possibly the only useful contribution I made to the panel was explaining my theory-of-the-second (you know, the sort of thing you suddenly realise is a handy formulation when you're geared to say something entirely different before an intelligent and interested audience?). This theory goes something like:
There are three main things we can do to effect change - to give us all more reading choices through reducing the barriers women and minorities face in the world of publishing.
The first thing concerns information. Networks and support groups need to be equipped with advice that actually helps. Some do, but these aren't equally available to all disadvantaged groups. Where do people find out how to send off stories in the right format to the most likely victim, for instance? (Sorry, not victim. Editor. Send stories to editors. Please.)
The information issue is massively less a problem than it was prior to the internet. There are still patches it doesn't cover and groups who haven't learned how to query it in a useful way. We can't assume that every writer of SF knows who to talk to or how or when. Knowledge of industry etiquette is still a mark of privilege. Information isn't as much of a problem in terms of disadvantage in Australia as it has been, in other words, but it still needs work.
The second thing is acknowledgement. This is a fraught issue. Some people live in environments where they're given sufficient support early on, and they can develop ways of acknowledging themselves. They may well develop ways of seeing their own work fairly and understanding if it's good enough to send into slushpiles, or not. Others don't. Some of those who don't have support groups who can help them understand the place of their writing. Others don't.
I don't subscribe to the theory that the best writers will survive regardless of what life throws at them. They won't all be read, much less recognised. Because of this, we all need help from time to time, and those who are missing both interior resources and the exterior to tell themselves "I'm doing a good job" need extra help. We risk losing good writers and interesting reading if we don't find the places and people who could do with that extra support and if we don't make things happen for them from time to time.
Making things happen can be done through teaching (this is one area I'm trying to work in right now, myself), through editing that nurtures, through awards and so on. The aim to my mind is to give people that sense of "I'm doing a good job" when they are, so that they're capable of writing to their full potential, of giving us the best writing for our reading joy.
The third thing is halfway between these two: modelling behaviour. It is, alas, too much for me at this moment, the evening of the last day of a convention. Besides, I haven't thought any of this through yet. They're ideas I need to think through, however, and I thought if I blogged them then I would start on that trail.
I have 2 pages of notes about my thoughts from the panel on "The past is a different country," but I'm too tired to blog those at all. In fact, I just ran out of steam. If you want those notes then just ask - I can post them tomorrow.
I'm sorry I haven't done better by you with reporting Continuum. It was such a lovely convention. Friendly and intimate and a great deal of fun. The costumes last night were magnificent. I caught up on lots and lots of friends and I made some new ones, too.
Everyone was very kind to me, even though I've been on a giant nostalgia kick. The convention hotel was very close to my grandfather's old warehouse and various other buildings that are part of my family history. It could have been worse. Last time I spent this much time in that part of town my nostalgia kick was for the rather interesting period of time when Marvellous Melbourne became Marvellous Smellbourne. I hope all of you who heard the family history are reassured - dinnertime conversation should never include the smells that the street once had when those smells are that bad.
And I have come full circle. I do need to sort out what happened to my elevated discourse.
What's more like me is leading friends astray because my food yesterday evening wasn't interesting enough (lunchtime was fine, thanks to Emma). First towards Indian food, then towards Malaysian food. Not exotic, but reassuring and friendly and nice. Much better than skipping meals and wondering why I was tired. Also, it meant I got more good company with really cool people. Mind you, I got the company yesterday (just not much food round dinnertime). I ate beef rendang today, and dhal, and roti, and long beans with nice spices, and these are all comfort foods for me. I also had some rather nice chicken and some vegies and my favouritest hot chutney in the world. If you want to ask me a favour, the next hour is about the right time, while I am still warm and comforted from happy foods.
A group of us missed some wonderful panels today. We blame Jane Austen, but it might really be Colin Firth's fault. We visited the Jane Austen's clothes exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria (which is quite a different place from the National Gallery of Australia, non-Aussies may want to know). It was lovely. Mostly from the right time and place (and in spectacular condition) with just a touch from modern films. Just the right film clothes for Aimee, at least, who melted at the sight of the outfit Colin Firth wore for several of the more romantic scenes of Pride and Prejudice. It was an hour very well spent, as the exhibition was very nicely lit and we could see every stitch. If you're lucky Kathleen will blog about it and maybe show a sketch or two. I hope so.
I loved my two panels. Sean McMullen and I argued amicably on one ("You're different," I told him, at one stage, trying to explain something. "People are always telling me that," he allowed.) Bill Wright sat between us and kept the peace. Sean is one of the main scholars of Norma K Hemming's work and Bill is one of the main proponents of the Norma K Hemming Award and I was the panel's feminist, explaining why we need such an award. We were preaching to the converted, but it was an interested group and a nice size one. If anyone wants to hear more about the Award, which is basically Australia's Tiptree, I'd be happy to do a post on it. I can't take any credit for it though - the hard yakka was done by a group of rather wonderful Western Australians and Victorians. I was roped in today because of my background, and was very happy to have been included.
Possibly the only useful contribution I made to the panel was explaining my theory-of-the-second (you know, the sort of thing you suddenly realise is a handy formulation when you're geared to say something entirely different before an intelligent and interested audience?). This theory goes something like:
There are three main things we can do to effect change - to give us all more reading choices through reducing the barriers women and minorities face in the world of publishing.
The first thing concerns information. Networks and support groups need to be equipped with advice that actually helps. Some do, but these aren't equally available to all disadvantaged groups. Where do people find out how to send off stories in the right format to the most likely victim, for instance? (Sorry, not victim. Editor. Send stories to editors. Please.)
The information issue is massively less a problem than it was prior to the internet. There are still patches it doesn't cover and groups who haven't learned how to query it in a useful way. We can't assume that every writer of SF knows who to talk to or how or when. Knowledge of industry etiquette is still a mark of privilege. Information isn't as much of a problem in terms of disadvantage in Australia as it has been, in other words, but it still needs work.
The second thing is acknowledgement. This is a fraught issue. Some people live in environments where they're given sufficient support early on, and they can develop ways of acknowledging themselves. They may well develop ways of seeing their own work fairly and understanding if it's good enough to send into slushpiles, or not. Others don't. Some of those who don't have support groups who can help them understand the place of their writing. Others don't.
I don't subscribe to the theory that the best writers will survive regardless of what life throws at them. They won't all be read, much less recognised. Because of this, we all need help from time to time, and those who are missing both interior resources and the exterior to tell themselves "I'm doing a good job" need extra help. We risk losing good writers and interesting reading if we don't find the places and people who could do with that extra support and if we don't make things happen for them from time to time.
Making things happen can be done through teaching (this is one area I'm trying to work in right now, myself), through editing that nurtures, through awards and so on. The aim to my mind is to give people that sense of "I'm doing a good job" when they are, so that they're capable of writing to their full potential, of giving us the best writing for our reading joy.
The third thing is halfway between these two: modelling behaviour. It is, alas, too much for me at this moment, the evening of the last day of a convention. Besides, I haven't thought any of this through yet. They're ideas I need to think through, however, and I thought if I blogged them then I would start on that trail.
I have 2 pages of notes about my thoughts from the panel on "The past is a different country," but I'm too tired to blog those at all. In fact, I just ran out of steam. If you want those notes then just ask - I can post them tomorrow.
I'm sorry I haven't done better by you with reporting Continuum. It was such a lovely convention. Friendly and intimate and a great deal of fun. The costumes last night were magnificent. I caught up on lots and lots of friends and I made some new ones, too.
Everyone was very kind to me, even though I've been on a giant nostalgia kick. The convention hotel was very close to my grandfather's old warehouse and various other buildings that are part of my family history. It could have been worse. Last time I spent this much time in that part of town my nostalgia kick was for the rather interesting period of time when Marvellous Melbourne became Marvellous Smellbourne. I hope all of you who heard the family history are reassured - dinnertime conversation should never include the smells that the street once had when those smells are that bad.
And I have come full circle. I do need to sort out what happened to my elevated discourse.