Alone

My name’s Lauren, and i just read Solitaire. It made me feel like… i don’t know. It’s ok that you’re alone, just let people you love in sometimes. I don’t think i’m articulating that properly, but I’ve been going through a depression and your book just made me feel good. So, thanks!


And thank you. I really appreciate that you took the time to let me know, and I’m very glad that the book helped in any way.

I think the notion of alone has become so scary in our culture that people don’t really think about what it means. But alone isn’t an on/off switch. Part of the reason I wrote Solitaire was to explore what alone means to me, because I think that we are all alone inside our own skin regardless of our love life or family dynamic or social circle. And yes, I think that’s okay. I think that the whole spectrum is necessary to have a full human experience. There are things that we can only learn, do, be with other people; and there are things we can only learn, do, be with ourselves.

I can be lonely with other people. I can be all by myself and feel like the world in my head and heart are the best possible place that any human could be at that moment. Being afraid makes me feel alone even if I’m surrounded by people who love me. Those people help me look at my fear from a place of relative safety, and help me understand it better sometimes. If I can’t face my fear, then people I love carry me until I can. But I still have to face it and overcome it on my own. I’m ultimately responsible for that. Every choice I make is mine, even the ones that work out badly. If that isn’t alone, I don’t know what is. It can be frightening and debilitating beyond belief. But it is also the source of so much power…. *shakes head*. This is one of the Big Questions, and I’m still working on it.

I do know that the power of being alone only ever really comes into its full strength when one who is able to be alone is also able to connect with others. Love matters. And the real power is not being able to get love, it’s being able to give it. Part of giving love is letting other people in. Other people don’t get inside us because they love us — they get inside us because we love them. Isn’t it a funny old world?

I hope you’re feeling better every day.

—–

If you’d like to start a conversation, please follow Lauren’s lead and use the Talk to Me link on the sidebar.

Sharing

Saw your Write-o-Rama post. Great talking to you and fun class. Thought I’d share the results of our class exercise.


Thank you for sharing!

I really enjoyed the class, and I like what you wrote, especially how you’ve captured the way that people break off in the middle of important moments to eat bread or pour beer; and the way we use these things sometimes to gather our thoughts, or to express them.

And as I told you that day, I very much enjoy Heidi, Geek Girl Detective!

Thanks for helping make my day at Hugo House a lot of fun.

Liberation

Via “Want to talk?” on October 17.

Hi Kelley,

I did not know your birthday until this moment. September 21 was just a few days earlier. My warm thought goes your way for a happy 49 – I was there almost 100 years ago or so it seems. But It gets better when you actually reach the milestone 50 – suddenly everything falls in place, one understands the riddle of life (i.e., why certain things work and others don’t) and one is liberated (just like Spinoza says,”… the more the mind knows, the better it understands the natural forces. And the more it understands life, the easier it is to get rid of useless things..”)!

Enjoy this and the coming years. I will be sure to remember your birthday next year. You are sweet, warm, and wonderful. My best.

Amit

Thanks for your good thoughts on the common cure for the seasonal cold. But this year it seemed to last forever. Anyhow, I am on the mend now, I will regain my full strength in about 37.74 more hours.


Hello, Amit, and thank you for the warm wishes.

All my decades have been interesting and full of growth, and so far I find that I enjoy myself and other people and life in general more as I get older. My 40’s have certainly been a wild ride… but more than that too. I’ve come to a deeper sense of myself and my place in the world. And I am trying to learn (again!) the best balance for me between doing and being. I feel as though there is progress there.

And so I hope that my 50’s will keep me on this path. It would be lovely to understand everything and feel liberated from the false constraints! It’s interesting to understand more and more on a gut level (not just an intellectual level) how many of those constraints are only there because I allow it.

Nicola said to me the other day that the 50’s are the decade when women become invisible, before emerging again in their later decades as streamlined, focused, clearly themselves (I am paraphrasing now, but that’s how I heard it). I don’t know if this is true, but I am certainly feeling resistant to it. I don’t want to be invisible. I’m finally seeing myself; I want other people to see me too.

I guess I’ll find out. Perhaps part of the liberation is that such things no longer apply to us unless we apply them to ourselves. Perhaps I will find they are some of Spinoza’s useless things that I may get rid of. I hope so.

I’m glad you are feeling better.

Best,

Kelley

100 days of photos

Photo by Callie Shell

photo by Callie Shell

Last October, I talked about a photo essay by Callie Shell that I really enjoyed, chronicling the Obama campaign. Well, she’s done it again. TIME magazine has just published Shell’s series of photos of President Obama’s first 100 days in office.

Here’s the thing: these are good photos, but they are not telling a hugely emotional story. They show the President and his people mostly at work, occasionally at rest. And yet, looking through them made me cry. Good cry or bad cry? Nicola asked when I told her. This was good cry, definitely.

I spent eight years believing to my core that there was not a single human being in the White House who was interested in understanding who I am and what I might need (not even as a citizen, never mind as one human being to another). I felt completely invisible to my government, except in all the let-me-monitor-your-email ways. And that was fine: I didn’t want to come to the attention of those folks, because no good ever came of that for most of us.

But I look at these photos, and I don’t feel that way now. I feel like smart people are working long hours to do their best for me. For me. I feel like it would be a pleasure and a privilege to sit with these people at dinner and talk about life, love, art, science, history, the beauty of the world and the people in it. I just like them, you know?

And I think this makes me cry because I had given up hope of ever feeling this way about government of any kind, ever again. The City of Seattle and the State of Washington take pretty good care of me; but suddenly, unexpectedly, I feel closer to these strangers in D.C. than I do to people running things in my own back yard. And it feels good.

(If you’re interested in an overview of the key events of the first 100 days, TIME also offers this very cool interactive guide.)

City Life

I’ve been dancing with your spam filter for some unknown reason…hopefully, this will go through, and hopefully you haven’t been copied this five times over. : D

Yours are among my few most beloved, formative books and stories, inspiring in my writing and my life. My experience of Solitaire‘s climaxes is imprinted thoroughly in my mind, and I am so grateful for it.

Is “The Hum of Human Cities” available outside of (the scarce, grr-expensive) Pulphouse 9 / are you planning to republish it? I thought it best to ask you, conveniently giving me an excuse to attack you with fan-mail. : )

Adrian


Hello, Adrian, and thank you for being stubborn with the form. You’re not the first person to have trouble. I have to get a different plug-in. In the meantime, if anyone wants to start a conversation here and has trouble with the form, please feel free to email me at contact at kelleyeskridge dot com (although I don’t know why I bother to stretch the address, the spammers-boils-be-upon-them found me long ago). Please say that you are submitting a “Talk To Me” post if you use email.

Thank you so much for these kind words, I’m honored. It is always my hope as a writer to touch other human beings in some way with my work, to make a connection… it means a lot to me when someone takes the time to tell me that has happened.

“The Hum of Human Cities” is indeed available in my recent collection Dangerous Space, under its original title “City Life.” It was my first sale (wow, what a feeling that was…). Kris Rusch, the editor of Pulphouse (bows in Kris’ direction in gratitude), didn’t like the title. So I found “Hum,” and like it well enough, but I’ve never stopped thinking of the story as “City Life.” I can be pretty stubborn myself sometimes (grin). So I returned to that title for the collection.

I don’t know if you’ve read all my stories: if not, there are three free here on the site: “Strings”, “And Salome Danced“, and “Dangerous Space“.

Fan mail is never an attack. Come back anytime.

Buster, life coach

I flounced over from a link on Booksquare. Had to comment on the cat — with four of my own acting as miscellaneous muses, masters and subjects of devious deeds in fiction and fact — I relate to Buster.

Cheers,

Pat Harrington
http://patriciaharrington.com


Isn’t Buster awesome? Let’s not even bother with a link, let’s just present him again in all his glory:

I discovered Buster when I was first putting together the project management team at Wizards of the Coast. I’d been facilitating for years (I’ve led meetings from 2 people to 250 people), and I was very glad I had those skills. I wasn’t expecting all the negotiating I had to do with other executives, my own team, and other teams that we worked with.

The thing is, all the facilitation skills in the world don’t stop other people from being defensive, uncommunicative, frightened or angered by change, or from hijacking the conversation onto another track. They just give me more tools with which to respond. And so sometimes I felt overwhelmed or stressed. And then I would return to my desk, look at Buster, nod in silent acknowledgment of our common impulse, and then go back out and start trying to hammer out more agreements.

Buster reminds me that good managers don’t eat the mice. And even though I’m not a direct manager in a corporate job right now, the fact is that we all “manage” relationships with each other every day, in large and small ways. So please don’t eat the mice.

Thanks, Pat, for bringing Buster back to the conversation today.

And a note: the Booksquare link Pat is referring to was a Twitter tweet… Yep, I’m on Twitter now. So is Nicola. Come join us in the twitterverse anytime.

And another note: I’m now moved to cross-post a version of this to Humans At Work. Come on over and have a look — there’s also a post about diversity that features a rockin’ Evanescence video, and a look at a recent interview about trust and social connection in every aspect of our lives — family, work, and community. If you enjoy the conversations here, please join me for more at Humans At Work.

Shooing the plot

Just wanted to say I enjoyed reading Solitaire. It kept me entertained with an intriguing plotline that led to a satisfying ending. The writing style really drew me into the story. I appreciate a book that gives elaborate yet consistent descriptions of its imaginary locales, and Solitaire delivered beautifully with its portrayals of Ko Island and NNA Zone 17.

I especially liked the subtle humor sprinkled throughout the novel. I got a kick out of the map-dispensing pillar that mixed courtesy with dire warnings about failure to recycle. The rejection e-mail from the art gallery was a scream. My favorite character (after Frankenbear of course) was Crichton. She really had a way with words (“He’s not talking to me”).

I winced at this depiction of the Garbo team: “All of them except the designer were typical R&D types — blindingly smart, highly verbal, suspicious of non-technical language, critical of new ideas, desperate for credit, and terminally rude.” Ouch! Does that describe the R&D staff at Wizards of the Coast?

Just a few criticisms. First, the basic premise was really hard to believe: that a world government would choose its future leaders based on the second they were born. Civilizations have been known to choose their chiefs in some pretty bizarre ways, but that way takes the prize for sheer irrelevance and lack of enforceability. Perhaps some further background on the history of EarthGov’s formation would help.

Why is Ko Island so cold in the winter that people put on a hundred layers of clothes and drink hot soup all the time? It’s close to Hong Kong, so it should have the same subtropical climate.

I didn’t quite understand Tiger’s behavior on Halloween and afterward. Presumably he knew about Jackal and Snow, and he was their web mate, so his actions seemed rather odd. Maybe a little more development of Tiger’s character would help.

The events at Mirabile really strained credibility, even allowing for the numerous coincidences involved. Why would the elevator control console have a “disengage backup system” command that instantly lets all three elevators drop? Backup brakes for an elevator ought to remain engaged until manually disengaged. Why did the second attendant leave the room? What eventually happened to the two attendants? “One … had been found dead; the other, not at all.” Did Ko executives have them iced or something?

Despite these issues, I enjoyed the book a lot. I look forward to your next novel. In the meantime, maybe I’ll check out some of Nicola’s writings. Do you have a favorite work of hers that you’d recommend?

Steve


Hi, Steve, and I apologize about 400 times, one for every day your email went unread (aside to the rest of the internet — yep, Steve’s message found its way into a corner of my computer and I only just discovered it a couple weeks ago. And we went to high school together, so it’s not like I’m just any old rude person, I’m a rude person he actually knows. Color me embarrassed.)

I’m glad you liked Solitaire overall, although I do get a chuckle from the idea that the plotline works at any point. Plot is not my strength; really I just want to wave my hands at it in a particular cliched Southern girl fashion, as if shooing it off into a corner. But I have learned that readers expect it.

Endings, however, are important to me, and I’ve certainly gotten enough grief from people about the “neatly wrapped up ending” that it’s nice to have someone find it satisfying. It satisfies me too, but I’ve never thought of it as neatly wrapped up. Mostly, I think of it as one part of Jackal’s life being irrevocably over… and that’s bittersweet for me, and (I’ve always imagined) for her as well.

And thank you for loving Crichton. I just adore her — all those years of being in and out of her head when I was wrestling with the novel, and when I read Solitaire she still makes me laugh out loud. I’d love to have her as a friend, not just for her charm — it would get old if that was all there was to her — but for her vast intelligence and her absolutely realistic take on things. I think she’s the smartest person in the book, except for maybe Neill. Or maybe it’s just that Crichton doesn’t quite have his experience yet, and one day she will give him a run for his money.

Hah. If there were ever going to be a “sequel” to Solitaire, maybe that would have to be it.

So, you are the first person in all these years who has asked me directly if that sentence about R&D was based on my experience at Wizards. Why, yes, it was, and is as precise a description as I could create of the folks I knew there (I didn’t know them all, so the rest may have been as sweet as pie). The exception was always Richard, the original designer of Magic, who was very nice to deal with, and was so smart that he never had to prove a thing to anyone.

I don’t blame you for arguing with the Hopes premise (shoo, plot, shoo!), although perhaps it wasn’t clear that the Hope was an honorary/PR designation — none of them were growing up to be the presidents of their nations. Jackal was being groomed for behind-the-scenes work in EarthGov, an actual position of power and influence, but still not leadership. The primary purposes of the Hopes was to take up highly visible “feel good” roles on the world stage, to be someone that a citizen of a participating nation could point to as a role model. As the Hopes are successful, so EarthGov takes on a certain credibility and “success” by association. It’s essentially celebrity politics turned about 30 degrees on its head. As carefree as I may be with plot sometimes, even I would not see the actual leaders of the near future world chosen quite so randomly.

The climate of Hong Kong: you’re right, of course, but they do have outlier days in the winter months where temperatures can get down into the 40’s or even 30’s. This may not seem particularly arduous to you, but I gave Jackal my response to cold — and I grew up in Florida, fer gosh sakes. There’s always a few days in Florida where the temperature gets into the 30’s or 40’s, and when I was growing up, whap, the mercury hit the magic number of 49 or below and women would pull out their fur coats and wear them to the gas station, the grocery store, wherever they could, just to get some use out of them.

As you may imagine, the weather at St. Paul’s was a revelation to me. I was cold all the time there.

As for Tiger, we can agree that mileage varies. I don’t need him to be reasonable or rational: young people in love so rarely are, in my experience.

You’re right about the elevator mechanics in Mirabile, that’s an example of me scratching my head and trying to plot. I needed a way for Jackal to directly interact with the crash — a way for her to have some responsibility for what happened. That’s the best I could come up with at the time. One of my writing teachers used to say that the best thing a writer can do when she finds herself on thin ice is move fast and point in the other direction (grin).

If you’re interested, there’s a very long and thoughtful conversation in the comments here about both Tiger and the intersection of accident and responsibility in the Mirabile scene.

As for Nicola’s books, well, read them all (another grin). Try Slow River — it’s an elegant book in both structure and in sheer writing, and there’s a reason it won the Nebula (beams with pride at Nicola through the internet).

Steve, thanks so much for hanging in there! And thanks for the thoughtful response to Solitaire.

Enjoy your day.

Shirley Jackson

I just read the post from Venetian Vampire in response to your blog on Oct. 20 about Shirley Jackson. I have always been drawn to her writing and wonder if you care to comment further about her. Thanks either way.


I think Jackson is a wonderful writer. I admire greatly her spareness of language, and the simplicity with which she describes complex, fragile moments between human beings. And she wrote some very shocking things for a mainstream middle-class white woman of her time — “The Lottery” was an absolute scandal, go read the Wikipedia article about it.

I think The Haunting of Hill House is a masterpiece, and I also like We Have Always Lived in the Castle, although that book seems to be more of a particular taste (sort of like artichokes or anchovies, I suppose). It fascinates and delights me that she wrote stories that were so unabashedly strange and frightening and shocking without having to get all bohemian about it. She lived an apparently satisfying life with her husband and kids and all the responsibilities of a 1940’s/50’s wife and mother, and then she went into her room and wrote Hill House… I would love to have had dinner with this woman.

And you know what else I love about Jackson? She was funny. I’m currently reading her essay collection Life Among the Savages, and there ought to be a tea-snorting warning on the book.

Those essays did for me what perhaps these days blogs do for us: they made Jackson human for me. They showed me the woman behind the marvelous creepy words I have loved for so long. I don’t always like what I learn about artists as people: but I like the sound of Jackson, I like the way she feels in her essays. I like her curiosity and her amusement at the wackiness of the world, and her clear love for her husband and children, and her bemusement at the response to her work.

Maybe it’s naive to say that I think she was a cool person, but I do; and maybe it’s evidence of my own lack of literary rigor that it matters to me, but it does. I would still love her work if I didn’t know anything about her: but knowing a bit of her personal life, and liking what I know, enriches the reading experience somehow for me. I don’t know if it works that way for others, but it’s always been like that for me. I’ve always been fascinated by the person behind the words.

I remember reading Hill House for the first time: the absolute confidence of Jackson’s prose, the small details of Eleanor’s life that told me everything about the howling wind that must live inside her, how glad I was when she escaped in the car and made her bid for freedom… and then the absolute horror of watching it all play out. Theo’s lesbian history revealed with nothing ever said about it, masterful writing. That Jackson is brave enough as a writer to show us the haunting but not the ghost. The effortless way she takes us into people’s heads. And the book scared the bejeepers out of me. That was a great afternoon.

You can start your own conversation now or anytime — just use the “Want to talk?” link on the sidebar or email me.

Friday pint

Every Friday I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

  • Lindsey’s mom (April 2003) — Because sometimes the most human thing you can do is buy vaseline for a hurt snake.
  • The men of Solitaire (April 2003) — Are the men in the book weak? Mileage varies… Plus, wars stories of Life In Television.
  • I believe in stories (May 2003) — More on Bonnie Main, the power of story, and my impending high school reunion.

Have a lovely day.

Friday pint

Every Friday I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

A couple of tall drinks and one half-pint today. Clearly I was in a thoughtful mood in March 2003…

Enjoy your Friday.