Callie Leuck | Write On!

#IWSG: 5 ways I've learned about writing in the last 10 years

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 01 May 2013 16:01:00 +0000

My last post was probably premature. I should have saved it for today. Instead, we'll call this Part Two. Real quick, check out my last post. As you can see, I have nothing to be insecure about whatsoever.

Well, maybe just a little. Luckily, I can laugh at myself.

I'd like to provide a caveat to that graph. Yes, I have technically been working on that same novel for the past ten years. I have also worked on other stories in that time period. I also completed all of high school, a 4-year bachelor degree, and a master's degree in that time period. So it's not as though my work on that particular story is anything near being constant.

But also, nearly everything I currently know about writing was learned in these last 10 years.

5 Ways I've Learned About Writing in the Last 10 Years

1. Writing.

Journals, short stories, nonfiction articles, memoir essays, I can't even remember what all else. Just writing a lot, a lot of the time.

2. Reading.

Everything I can get my hands on: fiction, short stories, novels, romance, fantasy, biographies, memoirs, history, science, magazines, journals, fanfiction, half of the internet. I'm currently focusing on my Read More Classics project.

3. Befriending Writers.

Most of them are friendly and most of the time reading their writing and talking with them about the same problems I have is immensely useful. Also writers seem to make good friends. They tend to be able to consider things from multiple perspectives, which is good in a friend and which I believe to be intimately connected with a certain power of imagination.

4. Writing to Writers.

This one is under-utilized, in my opinion. Like a book? Write the author and tell them so. Ask them a question. Nearly every time I have written to someone whose work I enjoyed, they have written me back. They answer my questions. They have to be smart questions though, not questions that are answered by, oh, say reading the book. I shouldn't have to say that.

But seriously, I have a response rate of over 75%. I have written to authors and said "I love this character. How did you develop him?" or "The structure of this book works so well! What made you decided to do it this way instead of another way?" And I have gotten answers.

5. Taking classes.

I'm putting this one last because it encompasses all of the above. I now have two degrees in writing. (I know; what was I thinking.) And the programs were amazing; I would not hesitate to recommend the Purdue Professional Writing program or the Johns Hopkins Masters in Writing program to anybody.

But basically what they did was make or teach me to do the above items. I was doing a lot of writing a lot of the time; a lot of reading and critical analysis of writing; befriending my fellow writers and forming connections I expect to, in most cases, be lifelong friendships; and learning how to write from excellent writers.

So that's what I've been doing the last ten years while I was repeatedly failing to finish my novel. Oh, and also? My degrees aren't even in creative writing or fiction. But you know what is totally crazy?

Writing is writing.

Everything I learned can be applied to any type of story. I happened to choose to focus on nonfiction and science-medical writing because I like the idea of finding real-life stories and telling them. And hell, science is so nuts already that you don't even need to make anything up. (Not that I don't love you, sci-fi writers; you're my favorite.)

Maybe nonfiction comes at it a slightly different way that fiction, but I don't think that writing the two are really that different. Ultimately, it's narrative and character and tension and boom! story.

Progress on my novel project over the last 10 years

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 23:21:00 +0000

I think I've got it this time. No, really! Wait. Wait. wait. Nope, it's all crap. What am I even doing.

Owning Writer: Thoughts from Conversations & Connections

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 19:47:00 +0000

The writing conference was hosted at my alma mater — have realized recently that I can now call Johns Hopkins my alma mater, just like Purdue, which boggles my mind — and so for the first time as an alum, I stepped into the building where I took classes as a graduate student. And that means I finally picked up this baby:

My first bound book. (Hopefully not the last!) Technically a vanity publication, but I'll take it!

Yes, that is my copy of my bound thesis. I am somewhat miffed that my full name was not on the spine — after all, it does not look like my name to me; I do not associate myself with the name C. Leuck, as that is also the first initial and last name of both of my siblings; we used to get magazines addressed to C., C., and C. Leuck — but I am so excited to have a copy of my writing all done up like a real ~~boy~~ book. Sorry, had a Pinocchio moment there.

The conference, Conversations & Connections, was hosted by Barrelhouse Magazine, in what I believe to be some kind of partnership with the Johns Hopkins writing program and perhaps some other area literary organizations. And while they did a top-notch job on putting together a great line-up of events, the parts I enjoyed the most and were perhaps the most valuable to me were simply the, uh, well the conversations and the connections.

One of my favorite conversations was over lunch with a group of writers who I mostly knew at least a little. The experience ranged from no publication to a journalist who recently won a journalism award, but we all had pretty nearly the same insecurities, doubts, fears about writing. The interesting thing to me was that the "I was afraid to own the title of 'writer'" conversation came up. This is a reoccurring conversation among writers. It is, in a way, your origin story, or at least the interesting story. How did you first begin calling yourself a writer?

For me, it was maybe a little easy because when I was in high school, the Lord of the Rings movies were coming out. This was a Big Deal and a Hot Topic around the lunch table, particularly as all of my friends were enormous geeks and nerds. (Hi, guys!) At that point, I had been writing short fiction stories for a while — to the extent that I wanted a laptop for the sole purpose of having MS Word all to myself, although I never shared that desire with anybody — and suddenly, fanfiction was in. And I mean, it was in. People would print out their favorite stories off the internet (give us a break, we had only gotten email addresses the year before, and we all shared one computer with an entire family, so screen time was limited) and pass them around the lunch table. So it somehow became natural that I began writing my own LOTR fanfiction that was passed around the lunch table. I ran across one of those folders in my old closet at my parents' house, and I have to tell you it is one of the most terrible things I believe I have ever written. But it was fun, and I had an audience, and people were encouraging and always wanted to know when the next chapter would be done. One friend and I wrote collaborative stories over AIM. Another friend and I worked for some time on a story based on two Italian young ladies who wrote letters back and forth to each other, mostly by writing the letters back and forth to each other as these ladies.

I wanted to be a writer, but I didn't know what I would do with a degree in English. I did not think I wanted to teach. So instead I went into the sciences, which made sense as I loved science and thought it was fascinating. But I kept writing — mostly poetry and short fiction. I submitted a story to a competition for the first time and got an honorable mention, which I now realize was probably more of a completion award than anything else. I continued writing fanfiction. Eventually, I decided to double-major in Professional Writing, encouraged by my mom, and later dropped the science major altogether.

I already thought of myself as a writer. I write, therefore I am a writer. In the Purdue Professional Writing program, the first question you are asked is "What is a Professional Writer?" (I address that question in a guest post on Arlee Bird's blog.) And right out of the gate you are thinking of yourself as a writer and trying to say what it is that you do, and owning it.

At this point, I've introduced myself as a writer so many times, that I sometimes have a difficult time grasping what it is like to not own the title, to feel like an impostor. But boy-o, other times I really do feel like an imposter. I haven't had anything published with my byline, unless you count the high school student-run paper, so sometimes I do question myself. Am I a real writer? Or am I no more than a child playing make-believe?

After the conference, we retire to The Big Hunt for drinks and readings.
A poet from Pennsylvania introduced me to the Manhattan, so you can bet that's my new favorite.

Then I hear published, lauded authors (ooh la la!) at panels at Conversations & Connections talking about how they doubt themselves and how they question what they are doing. And I sit down to lunch with people whose writing I've read and who I've taken classes with and I will swear they must have a dictionary of beautiful language hidden in the neurons of their brains because everything they write is so damn beautiful I cannot even stand it — and they say they feel like posers and like they have to defend their time and their work, as though it's not real work and doesn't take time and effort and sometimes loss of sleep and hair-pulling-out and tears and the disappearance of entire bottles of wine and other assorted spirits and lamentation and wailing and woe!

But seriously, that these people have these insecurities, these fears and doubts, when they clearly ought not to because their work is so amazing and they've been published and sometimes even won freaking awards — well, maybe it's okay that I sometimes think that way, too.

Then I go home and listen to Neil Gaiman's Make Good Art speech. And then I write.

Living in the Future

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Sat, 06 Apr 2013 19:44:00 +0000

I got a smartphone, and I'm not sure how I lived before it. (i.e., last week) The touchscreen aspect isn't difficult, as I feared it would be. The apps were easy to download and set up. It was a bit of fiddling to figure out how to port my email onto the mail function of my phone, but I was absurdly pleased with myself to have achieved it. So now I send emails with that self-important little "Sent from my iPhone" tag on the bottom because I forget to delete it every time and have not yet figured out how to disable it. It is not, as Jonathan pointed out to me, as charmingly ironic as my usual email tagline: "Sent from my freeze ray." [With my freeze ray I will / stop the world.]

I did finish Jurgen and I believe I'll listen to it again. And perhaps read some more books by Cabell. He has a very strange sense of humor and I'm not entirely sure I caught all his jokes. But the ones I did catch were quite dirty. And again I remind myself I must reread Dante's Divine Comedy. As soon as I figure out where I put it.

Jurgen is part of my read more classics goal this year.
If you follow me on Goodreads*, you may see my slow but steady progress. I've been averaging about two classics a month, which is pretty good progress in my opinion. Some are faster reads than others; I'm currently wading through Charles Dickens' David Copperfield, which so far has been enjoyable although I'm just waiting for some awful thing to happen to Little Em'ly. (Thanks so much for the foreshadowing, Mr. Dickens.)

*If I might not recognize your name offhand, mention you saw this post

or I might not approve your friend request.

Some news:
A photostory of my photographs has been published by Outside In Literary and Travel Magazine. You can see it here, although I caution you to click on one of the photographs to scroll through and see them all because only portions of them appear on the page. Also in this issue are works by my fellow Johns Hopkins writers: a photostory by the talented Vicki Valosik and an amazing nonfiction personal essay by Jean Kim.

I'm looking forward to a conference next Saturday, April 13 in Washington DC: Conversations and Connections. I'm particularly interested in the sessions on rejection and on freelancing. Writers in the DC area may be interested in snagging one of the few remaining tickets.

I leave you with a piece of art I did this week, because, as Neil Gaiman says, the thing to do is to make good art. I suppose "Make Art" is good enough. And with the whole de-evolution thing going on lately, this may even be what living in the future now looks like.** So you can see, I brought it back around to my professed topic.

**This statement is extremely tongue-in-cheek. Disclaimer for those who think I'm serious.

(Callie raises an eyebrow at you.)

More weird computer art from the MS Paint palette of Callie Leuck.

"Jurgen" and Limbo

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 23:18:00 +0000

That my life here in Virginia can be reduced to a 5"-by-10"-by-8" storage unit and a small sedan is, on reflection, rather humbling. I'm moving out of the house I've been renting with three other young women while I was pushing through grad school and had no life and few cares about my living situation, and into a storage unit. I mean my furniture is in the storage unit, and a lot of other assorted things, while I am going to be renting a room from a nearby family friend.

I'm buying time, entering a limbo stage of life. I am not sure what I am going to be doing next, where I am going to be living. I would like to get my own place. In the meantime, I am here in Limbo.

I wish I had my copy of Dante's Divine Comedy. Thinking about Limbo has me thinking about the old classics, and their heaven/hell fascination. This may also be because while packing and moving the pieces of my life, I have been listening to Jurgen by James Branch Cabell on the iPod. It was part of Audible's section "Neil Gaiman Presents," which are books chosen and produced by Neil Gaiman. I must say Mr. Gaiman has impeccable taste, and I bought the book with little else to recommend it. While returning from a friend's Welcome Spring party one evening recently (where we appear to have welcomed spring incorrectly as the clouds dropped enormous damp flakes of snow the following day) I listened to Jurgen* travel from Hell, where he married and set up home with a vampire and lectured Grandfather Satan on the appropriate behavior of a democratic leader in wartime, to Heaven, where he argued with The God Of His Grandmother and made a strangely conflicting discovery.

*pronounced "Yurgen"

I still have a little ways to go to complete the story, but it seems to me that Jurgen, who thinks himself a monstrous clever fellow and always treats the ladies in a manner that seems to him to be right, may be living a life whose default is a Limbo. His wife, Dame Lisa...no, not the vampire! Jurgen marries in nearly every "realm" that he passes through on his search to "do the manly thing" and rescue -- not Lisa! but Lisa's abductor, poor fellow. At any rate, Jurgen's wife does not understand him. And it turns out that none of his wives understand him. And everywhere he goes, people are forever saying that their husband or their wife does not understand them.

I admit I'm still working on figuring this story out. And I suspect that Mr. James Branch Cabell may well have been much cleverer than I, so perhaps I well never figure out exactly what means what. At any rate, I am enjoying the puzzle and doing some thinking about -- what else? -- the meaning of life.

Dear Google, I am not pregnant.

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 23:49:00 +0000

It's been quite a week, friends. The Catholic Church elected a new pope, with all the associated brouhaha there.* Google decided to kill Google Reader, with all that associated "do no evil" brouhaha.** Oh, and I spent most of the week pretty sick,*** and Google kept suggesting that my symptoms were those of pregnancy.

*I am still surprised at how prevalent and frequent updates on the papal conclave were.

**Preliminary auditions suggest I will be taking up with Feedly.

***I am so behind on blogs from packing and being ill;

my most profuse, sincere apologies to anyone

languishing from lack of my comments.

I've noticed a very strange trend when it comes to Googling symptoms of illness: it seems everything is a symptom of pregnancy. And that doesn't really say much encouraging about pregnancy, does it?

It's somewhat reminiscent of my sex education in health class, which can be boiled down to: if you have sex, you will get pregnant and die. From the STDs. Or STIs if you want to be politically correct. But you'll still die, probably. Or at least it will be very embarrassing and probably nobody will want to marry you (because you have an STD) and you might become infertile.*

*At this point, infertility is sounding pretty good because of the way they already

terrified us about pregnancy ruining our lives and apparently being torture,

given the inhuman screaming of the woman in the video.

Note: the above paragraph was sarcastic. Having an STD/STI does not automatically mean that nobody will want to marry you or that you should be embarrassed. That was merely an exaggeration of the message I felt I received in health classes.

"You might have a cold. Or it could
be cancer! Hard to tell, really."

Googling symptoms of what is, let's face it, likely no more than a very bad cold, and having pregnancy come up as a result reminds me of sex ed. It's PROBABLY a cold, but also you might be PREGNANT. And honestly, when the internet tells you that you might be pregnant, it's hard to immediately dismiss it, even when you know that's ridiculous. (Especially when your early education about pregnancy was focused on how it will ruin your life.)

That's one of the big problems with looking up health-related things on the internet. My mind fixates on the worst possible suggested outcome, even if it doesn't make any sense. (Brown recluse spiders aren't even native to Virginia, Callie!) It's a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it's always useful to be better-informed. Maybe one of your symptoms is a real red-flag. For example, I simply wanted to check up on at what point I should become concerned about bronchitis or strep throat or something worse than a cold. But there's always the chance that Doctor Google will suggest you have a brain parasite or prostate cancer or are pregnant.

I'm not really picking on Google. Any search of symptoms on pretty much any website is likely to turn up a few real zingers. This is likely because most of the really serious things cause such a wide variety of symptoms that happen to also be symptoms of quite common, relatively mundane conditions. The weird effect, however, is that the hardcore things come up with only a few hits that are honestly unlikely to equate to those things. The combination of chills, fever, and weakness is much more likely to indicate sunburn or flu than it is to indicate the plague.

Of course, it's all in context. We probably all know that self-diagnosing via the internet is likely not the best or most reliable thing to do, especially if the serious things that are likely to come up tend to freak us out. But I would guess that many of you, like me, do it anyway. But no, Google, I am not pregnant. Thanks for the horrifying flashbacks of middle school health class, though. That was awesome.

What has been your most-horrifying Internet diagnosis? Seriously, have any of you wondered if you had the plague? Any guys worry about being pregnant? Bring the stories! Don't leave me hanging here!

#IWSG: Lies and Lying Liars

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 06:24:00 +0000

This post is late. It should have been posted on Wednesday. I almost skipped this month's Insecure Writer's Support Group post because -- get this -- I felt insecure about it.

The irony. It's killing me.

I was going to try to write about the Jonah Lehrer scandal. For those of you who aren't science writers, let me just say the Jonah Lehrer scandal is a Big Flippin' Deal in the world of science journalism right now. (Well, journalism in general, but particularly science journalism.) And this has been an ongoing saga for over six months. In a nutshell: he lied. He made up quotes. He plagiarized He failed to be properly apologetic. He broke the honor code of journalism. And recently, a big science journalism foundation paid him to give a speech about plagiarism (I suppose he's the expert?) -- paid him a sum of money that would cover my rent for the past two years.

It's quite depressing. And I'd firmly resolved to write about it, to explain the whole thing, all the details (insofar as they are known) so that at least people would know what I was talking about when I'd exclaim "If I hear one more thing about Jonah Lehrer! It's all Jonah Lehrer or alligator penises!"* On the whole, I prefer the alligator penises.**

*My religious stalking of science writer's blogs has led me to the conclusion

that most science writers love any excuse to write about animal sex.

This is partly because it's apparently fun to write about penises

and partly because it's just so freaking weird.

**Link is probably NSFW due to Mr. Ed Yong embedding a video.

But I didn't do that because I couldn't work myself up to go through the whole litany of crimes. I just couldn't do it. I feel so depressed about the whole thing, as a young science writer and as a reader.

I bought one of Lehrer's books last summer -- How Creativity Works -- and had read about half a chapter before it came out that he'd fabricated quotes in the first chapter: the very section where I happened to set the book down. I could have returned the book to the publisher for a refund, but I didn't.

About once a week, I'd look at that book on my bookcase and think about it and wonder if I could read the rest of it or if it was all a lying lie-book of lies.

I'd think about how angry and betrayed I felt when, after reading Farley Mowat's Never Cry Wolf, I learned that Mowat had made up practically the entire story...which would be fine if it was fiction. It would be fine, if it wasn't still being sold as nonfiction, nearly thirty years later. And still getting rave reviews on Amazon, I might add.

I was angry. Mowat had taken my trust and had betrayed it. He lied to me. And he's not the slightest bit apologetic about it. To my knowledge, Mowat has never apologized. I'm not sure if he ever acknowledged that he enhanced the facts.

Never Cry Wolf was the first book that I have ever thrown away. I couldn't bring myself to resell it or donate it, to allow that lying book of lies to pass on to some other unsuspecting reader with that bold "THE INCREDIBLE TRUE STORY" emblazoned across the cover.

But Lehrer's book haunts me. On the one hand, I'm glad that I hadn't read the whole thing before the fabrications came to light. On the other hand, he lied to me.

You could say I'm taking it personally.

But still, when I was packing my books today (our lease ends this month) I ended up putting How Creativity Works in one of the boxes instead of in the "get-rid-of" pile.

Apparently I'm keeping it. For now. I'm not exactly sure why, but I think it has something to do with lying.

I couldn't write the post I meant to write because I was too angry, too angry and bitter. Angry and bitter isn't very professional, is it? I felt very insecure about that. I still feel very insecure about publishing this post. Like it's not okay to have feelings like this, or at least it's not okay to talk about it publicly. As though it's somehow dirty to show that I am outraged at something that is outrageous. Because I don't write about things that I am angry about. I don't write about things that I am depressed about -- if you think I did, I was making a joke about it, minimizing it and ridiculing it.

This is a lot of insecurity to drop on you. But really, the irony of not writing a post for the Insecure Writer's Support Group because I was insecure about writing it was just too much damn irony for me.

The Story of Graces

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 12:00:00 +0000

It's no secret that I love games. I think I love games because I love stories and games are a kind of interactive story, even the simplest ones. Many of my fondest memories involve games, from video games to board games to the games that most of the world calls, in a very serious manner, sports.

And I have to admit I've never been particularly engaged in sports enthusiasm when I didn't have some personal connection to the game, such as personally being on the team or having a sibling on a team. I was more engaged in my brother's little league team or my sister's middle school basketball team than I've ever been able to be in any university or professional game. I'm consistent about it, too; I may enjoy playing video games sometimes, but I'm nearly always bored to tears watching someone else play.

But when I consider what are my favorite games, a list emerges too long to list here. Did I mention that I love games? I want to PLAY ALL THE GAMES. The only reason I haven't gotten into computer games and role-playing games is lack of sufficient equipment or lack of opportunity, combined with fear of my life being sucked out of my eyeballs and completely into a game world. At least books eventually end. Some of those online games appear to be constantly updated. And I have no self-control when it comes to stories.

I tend to be a board-games kinda gal, but I'm mentioning role-playing games because I suspect that the years I spent volunteering at a living history museum was satisfying a kind of role-playing desire I didn't realize I had at the time. And because I want to tell you about Graces.

Left: The author, approximately 12 or 13 years of age, as Lezolitta Rothentropp
Right: The Game of Graces. Image from Wikimedia Commons

The game of graces involved, like many games in the 1800s, very little actual items: a wooden circle, and a set of two sticks for each player. It's difficult to explain without demonstrating, so here is the description of the game from the website of the museum where I used to volunteer:

"It derives its name from the graceful attitudes which it occasions. Two sticks are held in the hands, across each other, like open scissors: the object is to throw and catch a small hoop upon these sticks. The hoop to be bound with silk, or ribbon, according to fancy. The game is played by two persons. The sticks are held straight about four inches apart, when trying to catch the hoop; and when the hoop is thrown, they are crossed like a pair of scissors. In this country it is called The Graces, or The Flying Circle.

Two people play this game. Each girl holds one stick in each hand. One girl crosses her sticks so they look like an open pair of scissors, and she put the hoop over the sticks. This girl flings the hoop toward her partner, and the partner tries to catch the hoop with her sticks. Play continues back and forth. The object of the game is to toss the hoop back and forth without letting it fall to the ground. This game is designed to teach young ladies graceful movements."

Basically it's "Catch" with a hoop that you toss back and forth by pulling apart your two sticks at a smooth and even pace and aiming such that your partner can catch the launched hoop on her sticks and shoot it back at you.

It's simple, but once you get the hang of how to launch and aim the silly thing, it can be quite a lot of fun. I suppose it may have been even more fun because when I was playing it, I was also playing at being 1830s farmgirl Lezolitta Rothentropp. Maybe it was particularly fun because it was a kind of game-within-a-game. But I have to say the kids that came through the village enjoyed it too, so perhaps it is truly fun on its own merits.

I can't say I obtained any particular grace from playing graces, which is presumably the story of the game of graces. But maybe the story of graces is actually about how pretty colorful ribbon is when flying through the air attached to a wooden circle, or about how enjoyable it is to spend an afternoon in the sun tossing something back and forth with someone else. Maybe graces is the story of frisbee and catch and every other game played in the backyard or meadow with family or friends.

This post is in participation with the Level Up! Blogfest organized by Jamie Gibbs of Mithril Wisdom and Allison of Geek Banter.
"Games are an important part of living; otherwise life would be boring as hell. You might be a fan of video games, card or dice games, board games or even games you used to play on the playground as a kid. There's always a game that holds a special place with us."

See the list of participants here.

Science Roundup 1

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 12:00:00 +0000

The following are some science stories that I found particularly interesting recently, whether for reported science or for particularly compelling writing or for something just plain interesting. This may become a continuing feature.

The Imperfect Myth of the Female Poisoner. Deborah Blum explains why, despite the continuing myth of poison being a "woman's weapon," it is actually a gender-neutral weapon; historically, the population of poisoners has been divided nearly equally between men and women -- although a larger percentage of female murderers do chose poison.

"In the 1945 Sherlock Holmes movie, Pursuit to Algiers, Holmes (Basil Rathbone) considers it obvious: 'Poison is a woman’s weapon.' And you hear that same thought echoing down the decades, surfacing, for instance, in George Martin’s Game of Thrones in which poison is described, as the preferred weapon of women, craven and eunuchs."

When Experts Go Blind. Virginia Hughes writes about a study in which radiologists focused on looking for cancer nodules failed to see a humorous addition to the scans.

"'It’s a vivid example that looking at something and seeing it are different,' says Drew, a postdoctoral fellow in Jeremy Wolf’s lab. 'You can put your eyes on something, but if you’re not looking for it, then you’re functionally blind to it.'"

Every tooth is correct. Every whisker is correct. Ed Yong featured a new image last week that portrayed the last ancestor of all placential mammals. This week, he talks a little bit about what the team of paleoartists put into this fantastic image. Also new this week: a link to a really big version of the image, in which you can see every single correct detail.

"Palaeoartists—those who reconstruct dinosaurs and other prehistoric beasties—need to create vivid, evocative portraits that are still technically true to the creatures they are trying to depict. The latter task must have been especially demanding when a team of scientists spent 5 years reconstructing every single facet of that creature’s body."

Walnut the True Measure of a Dinosaur's Brain. Brian Switek covers the delightfully silly story of a paleontologist who set out to correct a journalist who compared a dinosaur's brain to the size of a tennis ball. A tennis ball, of course, is much too large to be an accurate comparison for an Ampelosaurus brain.

"In the post, Witmer wrote that he and his colleagues were 'proposing the walnut as the new official unit of measure of dinosaur brain size, based on our microCT-scanned 26.2 cc walnut as the standard.' Of course, this was just some playful paleontology."

Rosemary Learns Hearing. Again. Ann Finkbeiner tells the lovely tale of Rosemary Pryde, who lost her hearing when she was four years old and had to learn to hear with a hearing aid. Over the years it got more and more difficult. Now in her late sixties, Rosemary recently had a cochlear implant and has to learn to hear again.

"The first time Rosemary’s implant is activated, she turns off the hearing aid in her left ear, and hears an angry buzz, then low sounds with pauses – buzz, pause, buzz buzz, pause – then sounds she thinks might be words. Her audiologist is talking to her, so she lip reads and then thinks she really is hearing words, though her audiologist sounds like Darth Vader, a deep, robotic monotone, with the middles of the words fuzzy and the edges of the words somehow frayed."

Every one of these stories gave me pause. I found myself reading them over again more slowly, sometimes a couple times. Which, if any, of these stories appealed to you? Tell me in the comments.

Mustachioed Mania

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Decorating trends amuse me. A LOT. I was pretty amused by Portlandia's "Put A Bird On It" while, at the same time, unashamedly enjoying things with birds on.

Anyway, I've noticed lately that the trend has shifted toward owls* and, mysteriously, mustaches. Personally, I find mustaches somewhat strange. Movember, the month in which men grow mustaches to raise awareness and/or funds for men's health issues (specifically testicular and prostate cancer), always makes me feel slightly as though I've done the Time Warp into the seventies. Or any decade that isn't this one.

*Why? I don't know and I don't care; they're adorable. I hope frogs are next.

And there isn't really a modern mustache, is there? They're either retro, dapper, or redneck.** However, as a silhouette to decorate items, they're certainly making a comeback. I've seen mustachioed mugs, mustachioed fingers, and even mustachioed walls. At a nearby art gallery, one item was simply an enormous burnished metal mustache, in case you needed to dapper up your wall.

**If you're not sure what category your mustache falls into, it is redneck.

In fact, it's probably redneck anyway, unless you actually lived

through a decade in which mustaches were legitimate fashion.

Honestly, the thing I love most about the mustachioed mania is the ever-increasing opportunity to use the word mustachioed. I began to seriously consider obtaining a mustachioed item such as a mug in order to increase my personal opportunities to use the word mustachioed.

In my search for mustachioed mugs, I came across this gem on the Wikimedia Commons.

Picture from Wikimedia Commons. The cup on the right practically screams "Put your mustache here" with its mustachioed mustache guard.

Look at it. JUST LOOK AT IT. Isn't that glorious?

According to Wikipedia, mustachioed gents used to have a problem with their hot beverages staining their mustaches. Also, the steam melted the wax in the mustaches and sent it -- you guessed it: right into your nice hot tea! (Who's gagging now? Be honest.)

Is it true? I'm not sure. It's only a stub on Wikipedia and one has to have a certain amount of skepticism about crowdsourced encyclopedias at any rate. Nevertheless, it's an excellent story which I hope to someday see incorporated into steampunk novels.

Maybe we will see the original mustachioed mug with the mustachiod mustache shield make a comeback if mustaches themselves continue to make a comeback with the dapper young men. They're already wearing bow ties (which I admit do look pretty stylish) and suspenders (which are merely a temptation to snap, lads).

In closing I leave you with this rather wonderful acapella artist Peter Hollins, who sportingly grew a Freddie Mercury mustache to really get in character for his Queen tribute video.

What do you think of the mustachioed mania? Would you buy mustache decals to mustachio everything? (That does sounds like something I would do.) Let me know in the comments!

It's my entertainment, I'll spoiler myself if I want to

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 02:44:00 +0000

"If you read a walkthrough (or get spoilers from a forum), you can never un-read it. You can never un-spoiler yourself! So don't spoiler yourself."

These words of wisdom were imparted unto me by the official walkthrough of a game I was trying to play. I say "trying" because there was some craaaaazy smackdown happening in the particular level I was attempting to play. The rules kept changing, I had no idea what was going on, and I was being mauled by herds of killer bunnies! It wasn't fun anymore, which is why I was on the internet looking for a guide to tell me what was going on in the level. Usually I'd end up in a forum but this time the first result was a link to the "Official Walkthrough." An official walkthrough? I thought. Huh, that sounds ideal.

Of course it was just an opportunity to chide frustrated players for looking for tips.

I found a less-preachy unofficial walkthrough, but I haven't been able to kick the indignation. Something about people getting worked up at me about spoilers has always irritated me on a fundamental level.

Promotional image from BBC America. You wouldn't want to spoil somebody's life for them, which is why

Doctor Who character River Song says "spoilers" when conversations creep into areas where she knows things

about another person's future that she can't reveal. This is a reasonable use of the cry of "Spoilers!"

Here's the thing: If I'm asking you what happens, you can tell me. With rare exception, this has never ruined my enjoyment of anything. If someone had told me that Snape kills Dumbledore* I still would have enjoyed the story because (1) that person might have been lying and (2) I still don't know HOW it happens or WHY or how the story gets to the point where that would ever happen.

*If you didn't know that fact, I have zero sympathy for you.

The book has been out since 2005.

"Snape kills Dumbledore" was an internet meme.

Have you been living under a rock for the past seven years?

Tell me which Game of Thrones characters die? Oh come on, at this point I assume George R.R. Martin will kill all of his characters and the series will end with an epic bloodbath. (An epic bloodbath with dragons.) Please tell me Joffrey dies! I hate that guy! I don't even care if all my favorite characters die as long as Joffrey is bumped off, too! Honestly, the only story I'm actually trying to avoid "spoilers" for is Doctor Who, because I like watching those episodes in order, but even if someone had told me the Big Secret About River Song, I doubt I'd have been terribly upset.

What I'm driving toward here, in a roundabout way, is that I'm not that worried about spoilers. If the story is good, I'll enjoy it anyway. If it's "ruined" by knowing the "twist" ahead of time, then I don't think it's a very good story. (Of course I try to respect other people's preference to not reveal plot twists and surprises, which makes for very difficult book reviews and is why I don't review books very often here.)

I often read the last page of a book first, as well as flipping around and reading scenes here and there. I find that it gives me a good idea of (1) if the book actually ends at the end or if it's a set-up for an unwritten sequel and (2) if the writing style is something I would like. What it almost never does is ruin the book for me.

So I don't need condescending lectures about how I shouldn't spoiler myself, thankyouverymuch. I can make my own spoiler decisions for myself. If your story is so shoddy that me seeing "answers" or "future information" about it will completely and utterly ruin the experience, then maybe you don't have a very good story. Personally, I think the best stories don't rely wholly on trick endings. They are, I suppose, spoiler-proof.

Of course that's just my opinion. Tell me in the comments what you think about spoilers: should stories be able to withstand advance knowledge, or should all people always avoid exposing themselves to advance information?

#IWSG: Revelations Regarding Some Misconceptions About Good Stories

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Last month I shared with you my writing resolutions for 2013. While I won't go into detailed updates on each point, I'm happy to share that I've been making progress in every major area. Particularly, you may notice a new tab I've created here called "Read More Classics 2013" which explains one of my projects for the year. It's linked to my Goodreads account so that my classic reads update here. I also have a list of classics to read which have been recommended to me. If you let me know your favorite classic, I'll put it on the list if I haven't read it yet.

Up In A Heaval could hide inside Anna Karenina
& nobody would notice!
Photo by Nicholas.

I managed to get through Anna Karenina, which was a beast -- a BEAST, I tell you! I read it as an ebook, which is deceptive as to length, so Nicholas kindly took a comparison picture to demonstrate how "a regular book could be hiding inside of it and we would not even notice."

I was not kidding in my Goodreads review when I said I thought it was over at one point and then discovered I was only 40% of the way through the book. I'm still trying to figure out why I kept reading it. I finished it over a month ago and my mind still keeps wandering back to it. I wasn't reading it for a class or a book club or any other group. I had no obligation to continue reading the novel. I've put novels down before when I felt done with them, and it couldn't be a literary-snob-book-reader point of pride -- I walked away from Moby Dick half-read, for goodness' sake! Why didn't I walk away from Anna Karenina?

Because, okay, here's the thing about Anna: about 40% of the way through, everybody is mostly happy. All the characters you like the best are pretty much in fortune's favor, and you just know that if more than twice that amount is left, then terrible, horrible things are going to happen. If you're a writer, you're even more certain that something more horrible than the relatively-minor trials your favorites have thus far overcome is lurking off-stage ready to pile sorrow upon sorrow on their now-happy selves...because we who write know all-too-well the advice to writers to be cruel to one's characters, to make them walk through the flames -- because it is more interesting. Because a character's, well, character is revealed in the face of adversity, and it makes for compelling movement forward.

Since I read Patrick Rothfuss's The Name of The Wind, I've been pondering what it is about a book that could make me so engaged in it to continue to read the entire book, rooting for the main character in spite of finding him arrogant, depressing, and generally unlikable. Now I'm wondering what it is about a book like Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina that would keep me reading it in spite of knowing bad things were going to happen and that it wouldn't end happily.

I'm not sure why these ideas are revelations to me, but they are. The main character doesn't have to be likable and the book doesn't have to end happily for me to read (and enjoy) the story.

Now I'm wondering what other incorrect assumptions I have that I'm not currently aware of. Help me find out! Tell me in the comments what your favorite book is that you would consider to be a classic.

When September Ends

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 02:56:00 +0000

In September of 2005, I drove home from flag-football practice in tears. I was seventeen, a senior at my Indiana high school, driving my little old red car with the PURDUE window-cling clearly legible every time I glanced in the rear-view mirror, and Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" was playing on the radio.

It was a new song, having only been released that June. It felt like it had been written just for me. All of the elements of that afternoon together had given me, for the first time, an intensely overwhelming sense of lastness. This will be the last time I practice flag football with my classmates before the big Powderpuff game against the juniors. This is our last year in high school. This is the last time I'll go to homecoming events. And it just got worse from there, turning into one of those little cartoon devils that ride around on people's shoulders, whispering, whispering horrible doubts and fears into frightened ears. The angel of the set wasn't particularly loud, when he even bothered to show up.

Lastness isn't necessarily a bad thing, however, but it is a delicate balancing act. Be unaware of it, and you may miss its specialness. Be overwhelmed by it, and you can't enjoy it.

I suppose I've been thinking about this because I've just finished another period of life, but also because "Wake Me Up When September Ends" was playing on one of my Pandora stations the other day and all the feelings of that drive home in September of 2005 came washing over me in a particularly emotionally-vivid memory. Many of my memories are more scent-based, but some are song-based. (I previously wrote about my attachment to "As Long As You Love Me.")

Today's particular memory of my first experience with lastness is all tied up in this one particular song. Sometimes it feels as though the memory was experienced by an entirely different person and not by me at all. The interesting thing about that is that it's sort of true. PsyBlog discusses how memory works -- what I'm talking about is "4. Recalling Memories Alters Them."

"This raises the fascinating idea that effectively we create ourselves by choosing which memories to recall."

How actively do I choose to recall this particularly poignant moment whenever this Green Day song comes on? Did I at some point assign this memory meaning to my personal internal narrative? Was it because it was a significant experience of lastness that I remember it? Or was it because I was inexplicably in tears that I have such a strong memory of the event? What I do know is that I've remembered it so often that I'm not sure anymore if I'm remembering what actually happened or remembering a memory of a memory of a memory.

Memory is a strange odd thing.

MacGyver Style: Scientists rock it with #OverlyHonestMethods

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 06:05:00 +0000

There are three basic groups of people I follow on Twitter: fiction writers, science journalists, and scientists.* Usually it's the science journalists I like the best because they share all the oh-so-clickable links to hot science stories, and sharing science stories with an aspiring science writer is, I assume, exactly like offering crack to a warlock from Mars. And, yes --Yes, I do have a Mars obsession right now, which is why that comparison cracks me up.**

*OK, and comedians; I like to laugh, so sue me.***

**Get it? Cracks me up? Oh, I slay myself.

***Don't sue me.

But today--TODAY THE SCIENTISTS WIN.

I want you to understand why this is funny, so here's the quick 411: in properly prim and academic scientific research papers, there's a section called "Methods" where you have to explain, specifically, the procedures you followed to obtain the data and results you are reporting in this paper. (You've either seen something happen or seen something not happen; either of those things could be ~~significant~~ ~~important~~ ~~meaningful~~ worth reporting.) You have to specify how you did the experiment so that other scientists can replicate it. (Or not replicate it, which can also be ~~important~~ ~~meaningful~~ ~~oh crap well it might mean something~~ problematic.)

The Huffington Post has already jumped on reporting this story of the Twitter science community spoofing the methods section. #OverlyHonestMethods is one of the funnier things I've seen lately. Here are the ones that made me literally laugh aloud:

Ya gotta love a scientist with a sense of humor. Thank all that is good for scientific satire.

IWSG: Writing Resolutions for 2013

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 05:32:00 +0000

I've certainly made personal-life goals for the year, but in lieu of sharing those (publicly sharing personal-life goals always feels to me like a set-up for failure) I offer this list of my writing resolutions for 2013.

Write at least three times a week. (Any genre.)
Write at least one short science-related piece a month.
Create a list of publications that might be interested in my nonfiction science articles.
Continue submitting my nonfiction articles.
Get enough nonfiction pieces published to qualify for full membership in the National Association of Science Writers. (As my student membership is expiring soon.)
Submit short stories to literary magazines.
Finish another draft of my fiction story.
Read more classics.

Some of those goals are related; I broke some up into smaller goals to make individual steps more easily apparent. Also, I'll likely write quite a bit more than three times a week, but I wanted a goal I could meet even on particularly hectic weeks.

Number eight (Read more classics.) is because I tend to not read the classics; given the choice of an entire library, I gravitate toward YA or humor. There is a reason the classics are classic, and when I do read them I learn more about writing. It would be worthwhile to make a concerted effort to read more classics. Also, they tend to be rather enjoyable. (Surprise!)

Now You!
What is something you hope to achieve in 2013?

Dear diary, am I going crazy?

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 00:12:00 +0000

Well friends, 2012 has been a lovely long year, indeed, but it's high time for it to be over. I'll be ringing in the new year with some new friends, after a restful visit with my family that included visits with high school and college friends. All in all, it's been a very enjoyable month post-thesis!

With so many writing-related goals met this year, it seems relevant to reflect on myself as a much younger aspiring writer. The following quotes are pulled from my high school diaries, which are overall extremely terrible reads that belong in a bonfire, but that is another matter entirely. These excerpts are all related to writing and amused me, so perhaps they will amuse you.

"We have also talked about semicolons; Mr. Richards is encouraging us to use them more often. If I am using them correctly is a different story."

"I’m sorry for writing so much about my writings, but it’s what I do. Granted, I haven’t gotten much done recently, but I think about it often."

"Also, now I have to read 'A Portrait of Dorian Grey' because I promised an imaginary person I’d read it. Am I going crazy? I don’t think so, because I know he’s not real, but still..."

"I think I am in love with Christopher Paolini. Kidding, kidding!"

"I had been toying with the idea of applying a lunar calendar rather than a solar calendar but I think I would confuse myself too much. It would be way too much effort with no real result."

"Well, it’s time to switch pens – green journal pen for black writing pen. I think I’m becoming obsessive about pen colors. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t even write in this journal until I found this green pen. Does that make me crazy?"

Yes, as a teenager I spent a lot of time wondering if I was crazy. I don't wonder anymore; I know.

Book Review: Oculus

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Mon, 17 Dec 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Oculus is a captivating second installment in speculative fiction writer Michael Offutt's series A Crisis of Two Worlds, which blends theoretical science with British mythology and religious concepts.

In the first book, Slipstream, we learned that main character Jordan Pendragon, an orphan from Salt Lake City, Utah, and his twin sister Kathy are critical players to solve a complex problem that threatens the existence of two worlds: Earth and a parallel sister-world called Avalon. Using the power of a phenomenon of speculative physics called "the slipstream," Jordan was able to move between Earth and Avalon, taking his sister with him. There, the siblings hooked up with an underground "rebel alliance" group that is trying to help the side of good to overcome the evil currently running Avalon.

In Oculus, the Pendragon twins and each of their Avalon boyfriends are back on Earth working to find the Black Tower, which houses something that defines the nature of the universe. To do this, Jordan and Kathy have enrolled as freshmen at Cornell, which has a machine Jordan plans to use to help him identify the location of the Black Tower.

Because he has gained admission to Cornell on a hockey scholarship, Jordan's life also includes a lot of hockey, in addition to a lot of theoretical physics, and sexytimes with his boyfriend. Jordan's sexual orientation becomes more contentious in this book, whereas it was not treated as important or even particularly relevant in Avalon. Additionally, apparently due to his hockey-player physique and darn good looks, it begins to seem that everybody has the hots for Jordan Pendragon. However, his boyfriend Kolin is more worried about Jordan's immature nature and tendency to go off on his own to try to save the world, in complete disregard for his own safety or the concerns of his friends and sister.

Readers who wondered about the Pendragon's parents will be pleased to learn more about the mystery barely touched upon in Slipstream, as Offutt reveals in Oculus the fate of their father -- a particularly poignant point in the book which drives Jordan to use the power of the slipstream in a new and terrifying way -- as well as some information about their mother.

Disclaimer: I wrote this review as part of the author's online book tour. I volunteered to do this because I enjoyed the first book and I enjoyed Oculus. I bought my own books; nothing was given to me to share this review.

If this book interests you
If you think this review describes the kind of story you would enjoy, you should start by reading the free e-book called The Insanity of Zero, which is a prequel short story that provides background to the series A Crisis of Two Worlds. It doesn't feature the Pendragon siblings, but it gives you a pretty accurate idea of Offutt's writing style. You can find the free e-book of The Insanity of Zero on Amazon. (If you don't have a Kindle, you can send it to the Kindle Cloud Reader and read it online or get the free Kindle download to read on your computer. Or you can get a PDF download at Smashreads.)

From there, you can get Slipstream and Oculus as e-books for $4.99 each. Two fascinating sci-fi books for under $10 seems like a pretty great deal to me! (Michael has noted that Oculus is on sale through his publisher in December 2012 for $1.99 -- I highly recommend you all jump on that!) They are also available in print.

Related Links
Michael Offutt's Blog: http://slckismet.blogspot.com
Art relating to books: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3099632.Michael_Offutt
Twitter: @MichaelOffutt

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Slipstream/164452693676933

Adventure-ing: Yoga

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 19:02:00 +0000

Getting my Laurenspiration on.

I've been consistently inspired by my blogger-writer friend Lauren's ongoing series on Adventure-ing. Sometimes she has adventures, and sometimes she posts guest blogs by other people who have been Adventure-ing. Seeing those posts every so often reminds me of my own adventures I've been meaning to adventure.

So I decided to try something new.

I decided to try yoga.

I know, gasp. Another twenty-something woman trying yoga. Cliche to the max! And that, I'm embarrassed to admit, is one of the reasons I hadn't tried it for so long. Other reasons include the fact that a lot of people I had previously heard talking about yoga seemed a bit woo-woo about it, in an eerie echo of the strangely unquestioning devotion* some show to homeopathy. I was also initially slightly put off by the question of cultural appropriation associated with yoga. Sensitivity to cultural appropriation is something I take seriously (Some might say too seriously, but that's a story for another day.) and I'd always felt a bit weird about the prevalence of white women turning another culture's spiritual practice into a hypersexualized fitness regime.

*Unquestioning devotion always freaks me out.

So yes, I'd kind of steered clear of yoga because it seemed like the perfect storm for me.

Here's what's changed in the past six months: many, many women who are very similar to me have recommended that I try yoga as a form of relaxation. One woman is one of my best friends: she is Indian (born and raised in America, both parents from India, and culture is extremely personally important to her) and her recommendation suggests that she at least doesn't find the studio she attends to be culturally offensive. The other suggestions come from newer friends who are not in the slightest way woo-woo.**

**Note: I've just read that "woo woo" can be considered derogatory term for anything related to spirituality. That's not how I mean it at all. I have no problem with spirituality -- I said that one of my concerns about yoga was taking another culture's spiritual practice and turning it into a fitness regime.

And one of these new friends is Kate. Kate used to be a Capitol Hill staffer and is now a yoga instructor in Alexandria. Here's a section from her instructor profile:

"Kate has always been inspired to help others and believes that she can do this in no better way than by sharing the peace, love and joy that is yoga."

So I decided I wanted to try yoga. I had never been to a session before and realized I had a lot of preconceived notions about it that likely weren't true -- or at least weren't true of Kate, so probably wouldn't be true of any studio where she taught. Kate invited me to attend one of her all-levels classes last week.

It was great! The studio smelled mildly of incense, but not in a cloying way.

This form of yoga was definitely the thing for me. Kate's instructions frequently reminded us to focus on our breath and being in the moment. Being in the moment is something that I think we frequently forget to do in today's fast-paced world, so simply relaxing and focusing on the pose and on the stretch or on my breath was quite a relaxing change.

Child's Pose

That one there is Child's Pose. I felt slightly ridiculous at first, then decided if I was going to feel ridiculous about doing yoga, I might as well give up. So I decided to stop feeling ridiculous. That worked out pretty well for me, which was good because I definitely ended up giving up on some of the more challenging poses later and just doing Child's Pose, because I needed a break and this one is actually pretty comfy.

You just lie there.

We did this pose after a bunch of complicated poses I apparently can't draw. They involved a lot of sweating, though, and a lot of balancing things I couldn't really do. This one was a nice relief after that lineup. I was really good at this one.


One of the few I could do that didn't just involve lying on the ground.

Now I'm just showing off. This is one of the more difficult poses (i.e. involved more than just lying on the ground) that I was actually any good at. This one was pretty easy for me, which surprised Kate. Whereas on the balancing poses on our feet, I was worried about falling out and taking out the rest of the class like dominoes.

Conclusion: It was a good time! I would do it again. I enjoyed the focus on the poses and on being in the moment. I left feeling better than I had in a long time. I hadn't realized how much tension I'd been carrying in my neck, for example.

I'm considering taking a yoga class in January at my town's community center, because yoga studios! Wow! I looked at the ones closer to me, and those prices are high!

So that's the adventure I adventured this month.

Now You!

Have you tried anything new?

IWSG: Master of the Arts

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 14:30:00 +0000

This post is in participation with hundreds of insecure writers who dedicate the first Wednesday of every month to post about insecurities: doubts and fears that we have or have conquered. Check out the Insecure Writer's Support Group for more information and a list of the other participating writers.

Those of you who have been following along are aware that I've spent the last several months working on my thesis toward an MA in science-medical writing at Johns Hopkins University in Washington, D.C.

Today I am pleased to share with you some good news: my thesis has been accepted (with revisions) and in a few short weeks I will officially be a Master of the Arts.

I have decided that this should involve some kind of secret ceremony possibly involving robes. My friend Sarah Eutsler suggested that the Old Masters of the Arts would bestow upon me a letter with which to fight crimes against grammar. I'm hoping for K, which is my spirit letter, but I'd settle for S or L.

In reality, there will be a thesis reading this Friday during which each member of the class will read an excerpt of his/her thesis, approximately six minutes. It should be awesome, and I am only a little nervous. (Another friend named Sarah has offered to bring "a little something to help me relax" beforehand, but I think I'm better off without, although I greatly appreciate the sentiment!) The worst thing that could happen is that I fall flat on my face in front of a hundred-odd people, but mostly a hundred-odd people who know me and/or will likely be doing the same one day.

And that's all she wrote!

It won't be all I wrote, though, because the thing about thesis is that it's not an end. It's just a milestone in the process. A few weeks ago I discovered that my student membership to the National Association of Science Writers is expiring at the end of February and in order to become a full member I have to submit five published pieces.

Considering I currently have zero published pieces, the solution is obvious: I have to start submitting.

I probably won't make the February deadline, but that's okay. I'm glad to have an impetus to move on to the next step. It seems wildly arrogant to say that I think my writing is ready to be published, but then I think probably a lot of you who are writers know all about how writing almost never seems "done."

At any rate, it's time to start submitting. So a new thing to be insecure about, my friends! And in the meantime, success with my thesis. It's always nice to have some success.

Watch This Space

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 06:57:00 +0000

It's the home stretch of thesis, so I'm running on terror and coffee, which is surprisingly efficient writerly fuel. Watch this space for future updates on my survival status and whether I have obtained Thanksgiving food. (Maybe pictures of food! I'd offer a picture of the fam, but they're a bit photo-shy. Nevertheless, I shall obtain some visiting-home-related photos.)

Where I've been

Last week, I was at the Last Word On Nothing, talking about zombies, ham radio, and emergency preparedness.

This week, I was at Allison Writes, where Allison asked me some questions about writing and science writing and stuff. Here's one of my favorites.

Allison: What are your quirks to get started writing, or to keep yourself writing, or reward yourself for finishing?

Callie: I guess I start writing either because it's fun & I'm inspired, or I have a deadline and I'm terrified. A lot more of the latter lately.

It's funny 'cause it's true. *womp womp*

In the meantime, what is the deal with the Christmas decorations? There were garlands and red bows up outside the Starbucks a few days ago when I stopped for a latte. I was excited about the Christmas lattes, but not so much about the Christmas music and the Christmas decorations. However, for the sake of my sanity, I've decided to embrace it.

Here's what the American collective psyche has felt like this year.

Oh, America. I really do love you. But you have GOT to take it DOWN a notch.

Now You!

How are you doing? What have you been up to?

IWSG: This is your mind on thesis

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 11:00:00 +0000

*Have you noticed I'm only doing one a week now?

How's that working out for you? I'm happy with it.

The first part is the reading and writing compulsion, then some things about thesis and what is currently hopping on my last strands of sanity, then we'll wrap up with the list of the two other places you can find me online this week. (Surprise!)

This is only sort of vaguely about insecure writing (so don't kick me off the island, Alex) but I think you'll see insecurity woven throughout.

The Reading & Writing Compulsion

I've been spending a lot of my writing time camped at the Starbucks. When things are moving along, I actually enjoy working on this thesis.

Emily Dickinson, American Poet
Image from: Wikimedia Commons

Thesis and I, we have a love/hate relationship. I'm starting to think maybe I just have a love/hate relationship with writing in general. It's some kind of compulsion. I used to have a compulsion about reading, but that's been somewhat supplanted by the writing compulsion. Still, I was extremely entertained last week by an NPR interview with Joe Queenan, who has apparently read 6,000-7,000 books.

He's kind of a grump about libraries, bookstores, and book clubs -- but he clearly realizes he's a bit ridiculous and is completely unapologetic about it, which you have to respect. He obviously has a reading compulsion, and probably a writing compulsion too. My favorite line is when he's talking about the pointlessness of bothering to review the great classics:

"Someone once said about Emily Dickinson: The correct way to approach Emily Dickinson is on your knees."

Oh, I laughed and laughed! If nobody actually did say that (I can't find any evidence of it) then he's definitely said it now! What a line! But I understand where he's coming from. I used to feel the same way when every English class I ever took did the poetry unit and we inevitably had to analyze Robert Frost.

That's why I hated poetry in school: we weren't allowed to simply appreciate it or be awed by it. We had to somehow take it apart and reduce it to this negative; the answer we were inevitably expected to provide is that the poem (any Frost poem, take your pick) was about death. I once tried to argue that one was about life, the fragility of life, the preciousness of the moment. I was shot down.

Being forced to analyze something I adore is simply horrid. I've discovered recently that I don't care for other people's criticism of books I like. In the future, I'll be avoiding reading Amazon reviews of any book I've enjoyed. There is value in analyzing writing and in analyzing art, this is very true! But I do think that sometimes art should just be enjoyed. Sometimes I just want to stand in front of a Monet or a Van Gogh and appreciate that it is beautiful.

So I guess I get where Joe is coming from about Emily Dickinson.

The Cricket Wars

Thesis. I'm still well-entrenched in my thesis revision process, and with the exception of that time I was about to graduate from Purdue and spent two months without a job offer or acceptance to a graduate school, this is the most stressful period of my life so far. I'm breaking out like I'm fourteen again, and the latest wave of the cricket invasion is breaking across one of the last barriers of my sanity.

This is the sixth cricket that I've run across in the last week. This little bugger (below) was just chilling out in the hallway when I made a midnight bathroom trip. Compared to other ways I've run across these creeps, this is probably the best way. They look like some kind of alien parasite that rips out of someone's abdomen in a horror film, but they're basically harmless. They're a one-trick horse, and the one trick is to scare the shit out of you by being an unexpectedly enormous, multi-legged thing that leaps at you out of nowhere.

Picture by: Callie Leuck

I'm pretty sure they're completely blind. They don't react to me flipping the lights on, nor do they seem to react to my presence at all unless their freakishly long antennae touch me. I stomped around this guy for a while to see if I could get him to leap away, but he seemed quite happy to be chill. So I got the camera out so I could have a picture to refer to when I looked it up. Yup, camelback cricket, or camel cricket. Apparently they are common in Virginia and sometimes called spider crickets.*

*I can guess why.

It's been a cold war between me and the crickets.

Apparently they like damp places, which is why they ambush my roommates in the laundry room. They like to hang out in my bathroom and leap out from behind the toilet, or I'll find one stuck in the shower in the morning. Sometimes that's just too much to deal with in the morning before a coffee. And when you're trudging through the hallway in the middle of the night (and the stupid hallway light is on the fritz, so it's a hallway lit by a little nightlight) it's quite startling to have something suddenly bounce off your shin.

Two years ago it was ants. Last year it was the wolf spiders. (I never got a picture of those creepazoids because I killed them all to death with the softball bat. More on that later.) This year it's the crickets. I have to say I prefer the spider crickets to the wolf spiders, but I'd be happier if all the insects would please stop organizing and invading and trying to drive me insane.

I can drive myself insane without your help, insects.

Prescheduled Appearances

TUESDAY (Nov. 6)

Y'all remember when I said last week that I'll be doing a guest post this week over at the stellar science-writing blog The Last Word On Nothing? Yeah, that'll be up today. (I am ridiculously excited!) It's a silly little thing but hopefully fun, so please do click over there and check it out. I'm really thankful to Ann for asking me to do a post. I was indecisive about the silly thing I wrote for almost two months before deciding I obviously wasn't going to come up with anything better anytime soon (see above for thesis insanity explanation) and went ahead and sent it to Ann, who kindly said very nice things.

NEXT TUESDAY (Nov. 13)

Allison Renner is doing her inspiration series this month while she does NaNoWriMo (writing a novel in a month) and asked me to be the first interview/feature. That will be up next Tuesday. So thanks to Allison for giving me some really easy questions to answer when I took breaks to refill coffee and reset my mind.

That's all for this week!

Wish me luck for my sanity and in the continuing cricket wars. Please go over and check out my guest post on LWON. In the comments, please tell me: what sort of art have you found to be awe-inspiring? It could be a book, film, sculpture, poem, or practically anything I suppose!

Photo Essay and the Last Word on Nothing

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 00:52:00 +0000

Photo Essay: Life Lately, According to my Digital Camera Card

I'm mimicking the "Life Lately, According to Instagram" posts that have been floating around. This is great for me right now because I don't really have the time to write a whole post-thing, nor any topics worthy of it, as my life lately has been consumed by my thesis deadline in November. So you can probably expect more picture-posts and less writing-posts for the near future. In the meantime, these pictures pretty accurately capture my last week.

Top: Pile of research printed for reference for my thesis, in the event the hurricane was to knock out the power.

Bottom Left: Fresh espresso in an Abraham Lincoln shot glass. (The other side shows the first few words of the Gettysburg Address.)

Bottom Right: Hot vegetarian bean chili, with a roommate's Halloween decoration in the background.

Top: I've rediscovered the relaxing properties of coconut incense. (Background: an angel of reading who lost her wings. I'm not kidding. They fell off and I have no idea where they went. Someone ring a bell!)
Bottom Left: Pile of books accumulated by either referencing them in thesis revisions or reading in breaks.
Bottom Right: Post-hurricane, I finally dug my duck boots out for the first time in two years.

The Last Word on Nothing

The Last Word On Nothing is a joint blog by some extremely talented science writers: I can only hope to one day be as supercool and incredibly badass as this group of people. There are some pretty cool things that you'll probably never have heard of, and the writing is...just superb.

Some LOWN posts to check out:

Physicist Makes Movie (If you didn't hear about physicists finding "the God particle" then where were you living last summer?)
Buddha, Space, Meteorites, and Nazi Science
Everything in the Thank God It's Penis Friday series. I have laughed so hard I almost cried reading several of these posts.

One of the writers on LWON is Ann Finkbeiner, who wrote one of the books that got me excited about science writing in the first place: The Jason: The Secret History of Science's Postwar Elite. A few months ago, Ann asked if I'd be interested in writing a guest post for LWON. Obviously I said yes. Last week, I finally sent her a silly little thing I'd been toying with off-and-on for a few months, and apparently she doesn't hate it. I'll share a link when it is up. At any rate, please go check out some of those pieces linked above.

What do you think of this story idea?

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 21:37:00 +0000

Well I'm still swamped with revisions, but keeping in theme with Halloween, I'm sharing with you the only semi-creepy thing I've really ever written that isn't about zombies.(I wrote this in 2010, then I got busy with grad school.)

The concept is crime fiction. I thought I'd try writing fiction that wasn't fantasy.

Then I realized I knew next to nothing about criminal law and criminal investigations, so it's been sort of chilling out in my "miscellaneous writing" folder.

This is one I might be interested in actually pursuing, so I'd love to get some feedback and/or suggestions.

Axe: a crime fiction idea

“I kinda always wanted an axe,” she’d told him. They’d been sitting side by side on the edge of the bridge, arms through the metal bars of the barrier, bare feet dangling over the grey river. She was absentmindedly shredding a bright yellow dandelion, the petals staining her fingertips as she tore them from the flower and dropped them in fluttering clumps into the water below.

“There’s just somethin about it,” she‘d said, staring out over the horizon, “somethin kinda just basic, ya know? Like there could be a lotta things you didn’t have, but if you had an axe, you’d be set.”

Now, looking down at her in the coffin, Jake sighed. If only you’d had that axe, Mary.

“She sure was a pretty girl,” Donman said beside him. The big man shifted slightly, briefly printing his pistol against his sleek black jacket. As if anybody at the wake had any doubt hulky Les Donman was bodyguard for hotshot young criminal prosecutor Jacob Marten.

“She was beautiful,” Jake said. “The kind of girl who was beautiful even when she hadn’t washed her hair in days and was barefoot and sunburned and had a bit of dirt on her face.”

“Not the kind of girl who’d play the high society power game well,” Donman observed. “Shame about the eyes.”

Jake had been trying not to notice the eyes. The coroner had done his best making Mary look like she was merely asleep, but without eyes behind those closed lids, it was not quite right. Maybe a skilled coroner could do it, but not one who only cleans up old fogies who croaked in their sleep. Despite the makeup on Mary’s face, you could see where the eyelids had torn.

“They were brown,” Jake said. “Nothing special. And nobody would want to see her eyes right now anyway.”

That was a lie. They were special. C’mon, Jake, yull never guess what I found! Warm brown eyes sparkling with mischief. But Donman the suited tool didn’t need to know any more about Jacob Marten’s childhood sweetheart. As soon as the funeral was over, they’d be jetting back to the city and he’d never come back to this podunk town again.

“Good of ya ta come, Jake.” A big, sun browned hand clasped Jake’s pale one, and a large man in a worn suit pounded his shoulder in a half-hug.

“Joseph,” Jake said, recognizing the man as Mary’s older brother and only family. “Sorry for your loss.” The words were automatic and awkward. Joseph smiled mechanically and tugged a bit at the tie-knot at his neck.

“Thanks,” he said. Then softer, “It really means a lot ta me that ya came down, Jake. I mean, everybody loved ‘er, but the way I see it, you’re the only one loved Mary as much as I did.”

“I would have married her, Joseph,” Jake said, looking at the girl in the casket. “I would’ve married her seven years ago.”

“Aye,” he said, clasping Jake’s hands again with both of his and pressing a small velvet box into them. Joseph leaned in a bit so Donman, who was standing respectfully a few feet away, couldn’t see his lips moving. “Mary gave me this seven years ago ta put in the safe at the bank. Said ya’d given it to ‘er and told ‘er to hang onto it, in case she changed ‘er mind. Thought mebbe ya’d like it back.”

Jake smiled sadly and slipped the box into his pocket. “Thanks, Joseph.”

As he turned to leave Joseph to be consoled by the rest of the mourners, Joseph said quietly, “She’d been taking night classes for law at Saint Lucy’s.”

Jake froze, his back to Joseph. “And she had money saved up,” Joseph finished. “For a train ticket to the city.”

Jake nodded, unable to do more, and walked quickly towards the door. Donman fell in step as he passed.

“Done with this for the night?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Let’s go back to the hotel.” They were staying in a suite in an upscale hotel a forty minutes’ drive away. “I’m going to hit the bar.” And drown all my what-ifs and if-onlys.

From this scene, the story will go on to have Jake return to the big city and eventually become obsessed with the idea that the psychotic partner of a man Jake had recently put on death row is stalking Jake and is responsible for an increasingly-frequent series of tragic events befalling everyone in Jake's life.

No, I haven't decided yet where this town or "the big city" are exactly. Somewhere in America. And again, I don't know much about criminal prosecution, so....I could be completely off about basic things.

So are you interested? Is it worth me doing a ridiculous amount of research into criminal law and/or criminals? Or just stick to fantasy and nonfiction science writing? :D

10 Books That Will Make You Sexy and Rich*

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 03:14:00 +0000

I keep meaning to do a real review of a lot of books. Somehow, I keep not getting around to it. So today, I've gathered up ten books I have found awesome in some way. These ten books will make you sexy and rich.* Instead of a real review (which half of you probably wouldn't read anyway for fear of spoilers), I'm going to give you two brief pieces of information about each book: (1) a feature or two, and (2) a warning.

*no guarantees, no refunds

Picture by: Callie Leuck. 10 books that will make you sexy and rich.
Fun Fact: Each of these books has an interesting story about how/when/why I got it.

Ender's Game

Orson Scott Card

Features: genius children in space who are training to be military leaders when the aliens return

Warning: at least two instances of extreme violence against children, by children (not overly-dramatized)

Sunshine

Robin McKinley

Features: urban fantasy (but sort of small-town), baker girl with a special affinity for sunlight, vampires

Warning: no vampire smut (just in case you expect that in your vampire books)

Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation

Lynne Truss

Features: punctuation comedy

Warning: follows British punctuation rules (can be confusing at first to Americans)

Weird Things Customers Say In Bookshops

Jen Campbell

Features: what it promises in the title

Warning: can cause laughter (note: in American publication title, "bookshops" is changed to "bookstores")

Stardust

Neil Gaiman

Features: young man in ~1800s (maybe?) England goes to Faerie to retrieve a fallen star for his beloved

Warning: someone on Amazon was upset their child read a "soft-core sex scene" (I didn't remember this, first read it when I was a teenager and wasn't psychologically scarred)

The Alchemist

Paolo Coehlo

Features: a fable about following your dreams

Warning: might cause thinking (I reread this book once a year)

The Hollow Kingdom

Clare B. Dunkle

Features: strong female lead, fantastic goblin culture

Warning: brings up moral issues about cultural bride-stealing (some people seem upset this topic is included)

Wicked

Gregory Maguire

Features: awesome background story of the Wicked Witch of the West

Warning: adult content, reads like a life and not like a story with a plot (just be chill)

Bradbury Stories

Ray Bradbury

Features: 100 short stories by Ray Bradbury (author of Fahrenheit 451)

Warning: addictive (some more so than others)

Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary

Merriam-Webster

Features: definitions of words

Warning: arranged alphabetically, does not prompt with the correct spelling (however, 11th ed. includes CD-ROM and online subscription)

Now You!

Give me a feature and warning for a book YOU like that is not on this list.

IWSG: Reading to an audience as an editing tool

noreply@blogger.com (Callie Leuck) — Wed, 03 Oct 2012 04:14:00 +0000

This post is in participation with hundreds of insecure writers who dedicate the first Wednesday of every month to post about insecurities: doubts and fears that we have or have conquered. Check out the Insecure Writer's Support Group for more information and a list of the other participating writers.

One thing I wanted to discuss earlier, that I learned in the July writing conference in Maine, is reading writing aloud and how that can be used as an editing tool. Well a lot happened during that trip, and it was frankly difficult to try to cover even the highlights, so I think it's understandable that this part was abandoned until now.

This is relevant to IWSG because for me, editing = major insecurity. I kind of love-hate editing, and the more methods I have to choose from, the better the chance I'll figure it all out. So here's a newish approach for me.

What happened is that one evening at the conference featured a student reading. A reading is a pretty nice affair in which writers read selections of their work. I've attended many thesis readings at Johns Hopkins here in DC, in addition to graduate readings and instructor readings, as well as readings at book fairs and in bookstore/restaurants and bookstore/coffeehouses. (Hardly any are straight-up bookstores anymore. Apparently it's not exactly lucrative.) Anyway, readings are an enjoyable way to spend time as well as get a sample of a writer's voice (both literal and literary). And it's a pretty fun thing to do with literary-minded comrades.

Anyway. In preparation for the reading, we spent the afternoon practicing reading excerpts of our writing aloud to each other. Something amazing happened. People were suddenly extremely comfortable pointing out parts where the flow wasn't right, where the reader was losing the audience (it was boring), and where the phrasing was awkward. You could hear it. It was so easy to move things around because the goal was to make it sound good.

I was liberated. I cut whole sentences at a time, whole paragraphs! I moved paragraphs from top to bottom, chopped dialogue. Suddenly the 2.5 page excerpt I had started with -- the one that was sometimes dry and sometimes lagged -- had morphed into a lean one page that started right in the middle of the action.

It was so much better. I couldn't believe it.

Fast forward to this past Monday. My thesis class had our first practice reading. (Yes, I will be talking about thesis pretty much nonstop until December. Buckle up and settle in.) I had practiced reading my piece, but there's a distinct difference between reading aloud to yourself and reading to an audience. Reactions are oh so useful.

So yes, I will be cutting the parts where my classmates leaned forward on the table and put their heads down on their arms. I'll definitely be taking a hard look at the paragraph where I say 'ionosphere' twice, and the whole paragraph about the interaction between solar radiation and free electrons in the atmosphere. And yes I noticed a few people glance at the clock during a quote on the longish side.

I suspected the denser technical bits would be less interesting, but I hadn't realized the extent until I had a clearly-bored audience.

How my writing benefits from reading to an audience:

personal understanding -- where the writing is repetitive or unnecessarily verbose, where I stumble because of clunky phrasing
indirect feedback from the audience -- how they physically react (boredom, laughter, smiles, shock, etc.)
direct feedback from the audience -- comments afterward

Of course we also work on literal voice, vocal variation, reading speed, emphasis, and all that.

The point of this post is merely to explain how I have identified writing weaknesses through preparing to read my writing aloud. Not all writing is going to be great read aloud -- most of my writing in the science-medical writing concentration isn't the type of thing you read aloud to an audience -- and that's OK. But it's still something to consider, especially for problems related to pacing. I was amazed at how helpful it is, so perhaps other IWSG participants will also find it useful if they get stuck with a piece.

Now You!

Do you have any techniques that help you make your writing stronger?

Bonus (totally unrelated) question:

Fill in the blank with the word or phrase you would use:
There's a car rolling down the road with dents, the fender hanging off, chipped paint.
That car is a real __________.