galadrielwatson

April 1, 2015

Writing: An Art or a Sport?

Okay, so this could be called the sore loser post. There was a short story competition. I submitted. I didn’t win.

Does it matter?

Once upon a time, when I danced ballet, I never entered a dance competition. I’d barely even heard of a dance competition. We danced shows for our families and the community. We travelled to seniors centres to give them an afternoon of entertainment.

Dance was an art; we didn’t submit ourselves to long hours in the studio to be graded and beat out others. (I lie: we did want to beat out others, but it was petty rivalries and jealousies.) We strove to perfect our art.

So why does writing feel different? Why do we submit ourselves to being judged, to hoping to win this or that? Literature is an art, not a sport. Why does the ranking of a few random judges feel necessary to determine our work’s worth?

And that’s what it is: the ranking of one or more judges. Winning a competition means you’ve pleased that set of judges at that particular time. It doesn’t speak to which piece of writing is better. It speaks only to the personal preferences of a limited set.

Will I keep submitting my writing to competitions? Most likely. Because—although I know it’s not a be-all and end-all judgment—winning still feels damn good.

(Read my CBC-winning creative non-fiction piece “A Marriage to Music”—which also happens to illustrate my life as a dancer.)

How do you feel about writing competitions?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

Hi, I’m Galadriel: blogger, author, reader and resident of a quaint small town in the breathtaking West Kootenay region of southeastern British Columbia. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

March 29, 2015

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Clothes? Who Needs Clothes? A Reader/Writer Goes on Vacation

If you’ve noticed I’ve been incommunicado for a while, it’s because I’ve been vacationing in the beautiful (but currently somewhat windy and rainy) Bermuda. (Conclusion: well worth it, super nice and polite people, safe atmosphere, gorgeous scenery, lovely pastel homes. I highly recommend it!)

Figuring out how to pack reading material was bumpier than the flights themselves:

Trying to keep down expenses and luggage weight, I decide not to buy a paper copy of a Bermuda travel guide, but download an ebook from the library. Once I have it, I realize it’s not the way to go. Although I can “bookmark” pages, I can’t use flaps of bright yellow sticky notes to mark interesting tidbits, nor place my finger in one spot while flipping to somewhere else.
At the same time, keeping in mind that being lightweight would be a benefit, I visit the BC libraries’ ereader website and discover all popular books are out. (Q: If it’s electronic, how can there be limited copies?) I download two older books that may keep me amused.
I then worry: how will my husband peruse the travel guide on the flight if I must use the same ereader to distract myself from near death? A hard-copy guide becomes a must.
I barrel through my current library book so I can return it before departure: Emily St. John Mandel’s Last Night in Montreal. (My one-word review: okay. But that could be because I rushed and didn’t give it the attention it deserves.)
The day before we leave, my ereader crashes! I decide it’s not reliable enough and ditch the idea altogether. I grab an unread book off my shelf, buy a Bermuda guide and additional novel at a bookstore en route to the airport and grab a magazine at the airport itself. I’m finally good to go!

In Bermuda I get the chance to visit two lovely bookshops: the Bermuda Book Store in Hamilton and the Book Cellar in St. George’s (plus a bizarre phone-booth-turned-used-book-exchange nearby). Not needing to buy anything, I come away empty handed.

However, I now realize there’s one book I should have tracked down—Shakespeare’s The Tempest—as they say it was inspired by a Bermudian shipwreck. I remember nothing about this play but tidbits from a high school performance. Can I decipher Shakespeare without being familiar with the story? This will be a good test.

As for writing on vacation, I ditch my blog (plus Twitter and Facebook)—how relaxing! I keep my novel in progress in the back of my mind, but do no active work on it. My only duty: a daily recap of life in Bermuda. I have neglected to keep such a record on past vacations and have regretted it, so do a great job this time capturing activities and impressions.

Now back at home, my mind is mush—a sign of a successful vacation. Little by little I’ll have to reintegrate myself to where I was. At least the time difference is working in my favour, and 5:30 a.m. (almost) feels like a lovely sleep-in. I just have to get my writing brain on board too.

How to you prepare for a vacation?

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About the Author

Posted by Galadriel

March 17, 2015

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When Everything Feels Like the Movies

I’ve been hesitating writing this post, not because I don’t have an opinion about Raziel Reid’s When Everything Feels Like the Movies, but because I feel like whatever I say, it may come out sounding wrong.

Yes, it’s an important book presenting a point of view that’s rarely heard in the mainstream. Yes, it’s a compelling read; I finished it within 24 hours. Yes, I would read it again.

And yet my deepest reaction was: Do people really live like this?

And when I say like this, I don’t mean the way the main character Jude is a cross-dressing teenager. I don’t care that he’s a flamboyant gay. What shocked me was the misery of Jude and everyone who surrounds him, living lives that don’t seem to stretch beyond swearing and violence and sex and alcohol and drugs.

For Jude’s part, I can understand his world may be reduced to these qualities because of the abuse he suffers. But what about his best friend Angela? What makes her life such a black hole? Why doesn’t she pull herself out?

In a recent interview with CBC, Reid said he was simply capturing how teenagers today speak and behave. I sorely hope he refers to the minority. My youth was nothing like that, and I’m pretty sure the daily interactions of my teenage children aren’t either.

It’s a sad existence for every character, and I root every inch of the way for Jude to rise above it, however unlikely his schemes. But my main takeaway is this: If that’s the way some teens actually live, thank god I and my family have lived sheltered lives.

What do you think about this book?

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