5 Graphic (Nonfiction) Books September 16, 2015Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science, Writing, 5 Things.
Tags: WWII, Art & Science, Books, Nobel Prize, Nuclear Weapons, Physics, Radioactivity, Science Writing
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What It Is: the formless thing which gives things form (2008)
By Lynda Barry
Lynda Barry’s What It Is is a book like none other we’ve seen. It’s part stories, part memoir about her life, and part creativity workbook for the reader. It’s nonlinear; it poses questions; it’s fun. One of our favorite bits of wisdom:
To be able to stand not knowing long enough to let something alive take shape!
Fallout: J. Robert Oppenehimer, Leo Szilard, and the Political Science of the Atomic Bomb (2001)
By Jim Ottaviani, Janine Johnston, Steve Lieber, Vince Locke, Bernie Mireault, Jeff Parker
The other four books in today’s list circle around nuclear history. A wee bit is fabricated, so Fallout isn’t really nonfiction, but a lot of what happens and what is said in this book really did happen and was said. For instance, early on in the book, Leo Szilard takes a bath and reads H.G. Wells’s The World Is Set Free. Szilard is thought to have enjoyed taking baths and credited that book as one of the two that shaped his thinking.
Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie—A Tale of Love and Fallout (2010)
By Lauren Redniss
This book is gorgeous. The other three nuclear history books are told in panels of comic strips, but Radioactive plays with images in different ways, with maps, diagrams, drawings, photographs, lots of shapes and colors. The author even created her own typeface and named it after the spiritualist medium the Curies visited. This book is especially interested in Marie Curie’s relationships, with Pierre, of course, but also with others, including her lover Paul Langevin. The personal story, though, is always woven into history and science, as we see in the early passage that introduces Marie Curie:
Three times before her death, Marya Sklodowska would find, then swiftly lose, a cherished lover. The gray-eyed girl was born in Warsaw on November 7, 1867, the year chemist and orchid cultivator Alfred Nobel patented dynamite. She would become famous as Marie Curie, twice winning the prize Nobel established with his explosive fortune.
By Jim Ottaviani, Leland Myrick, Hilary Sycamore
This book is fun. Well, it’s Richard Feynman, and he was a character, and it’s in color. Feynman gives readers Los Alamos, his later lectures, and his role in the Challenger accident investigation, and it also tells of Feynman’s eye for the ladies and his illness. It’s a sweeping biography of a charismatic scientist. One of the most captivating aspects of this book is that Feynman narrates in first person, using boxed voiceovers. In the section about Arline and her diagnosis with tuberculosis, for instance, Feynman reveals his unspoken responses and emotions, eventually concluding:
So we knew we could face things together, and after going through that we had no difficulty facing other problems.
Trinity: A Graphic History of the First Atomic Bomb (2012)
By Jonathan Fetter-Vorm
Trinity is in the same vein as Fallout, though it uses more whole-page and double-page spreads that are visually striking and allow for explanation of concepts, such as everything you need to know about uranium. In the end, this book looks beyond the Trinity test to Mutually Assured Destruction and “Duck and Cover,” to the risks with which we’ve lived since 1945. The afterword concludes:
We would see that the secret of atomic power was stolen not from the gods, but simply from the earth.
And we would remember that this atomic force is a force of nature.
As innocent as an earthquake.
As oblivious as the sun.
It will outlast our dreams.
RIP Leonard Nimoy March 4, 2015Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Space Exploration.
Tags: Art & Science, Movies & TV, Music, Space Shuttle
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Last Friday, actor Leonard Nimoy died. The New York Times reported, “the sonorous, gaunt-faced actor who won a worshipful global following as Mr. Spock, the resolutely logical human-alien first officer of the Starship Enterprise in the television and movie juggernaut ‘Star Trek,’ died on Friday morning at his home in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles. He was 83.”
As Anna drove around town that morning, KUSC played the Star Trek theme in Nimoy’s honor, for he was a long-time supporter of that classical music station and a musician himself. Long before Peter Jackson brought J. R. R. Tolkein’s hobbits to the screen, Nimoy performed “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.” though that didn’t do justice to his talent. He was also a photographer, and The Independent has just pulled together and shared some of his striking work.
Four years ago this month, Lofty Ambitions wrote a happy-birthday post for Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner. Read that tribute HERE.
Reportedly, Nimoy’s last tweet was “A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.”
One of our favorite and nerdiest NASA astronauts Mike Fincke and ESA astronaut Luca Parmitano spoke of Nimoy’s influence, as the character Spock, on space exploration, science, and their generation. And astronauts in space exchanged the Vulcan salute last week.
Rolling Stone gathered numerous tributes. President Obama wrote, “Long before being nerdy was cool, there was Leonard Nimoy. Leonard was a lifelong lover of the arts and humanities, a supporter of the sciences, generous with his talent and his time. And of course, Leonard was Spock. Cool, logical, big-eared and level-headed, the center of Star Trek‘s optimistic, inclusive vision of humanity’s future.”
Zachary Quinto, the new Spock, wrote, “My heart is broken. I love you profoundly my dear friend.”
George Takei remembered Nimoy at MSNBC. Takei called Nimoy “extraordinary” and explains why Nimoy deserves that adjective.
William Shatner kept his commitment to a Red Cross fundraiser in Florida instead of attending the funeral, according to CNN, but had good things to say about Nimoy.
In TIME, Martin Landau remembered Nimoy, writing, “Leonard Nimoy was a mensch! Mensch is a word which in Yiddish means ‘a particularly good person’ with the qualities one would hope for in a dear friend or trusted colleague.”
As academics ourselves, we appreciate a good commencement speech. In his at Boston University in 2012, at the age of 81, Nimoy said, “I have three words for you. Persistence, persistence…persistence.” We write about that here at Lofty Ambitions, and Anna’s chapter in a forthcoming pedagogy book talks about the importance of perseverance. In that speech, Nimoy quotes President Kennedy, “We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda. It is truth.” That’s sometimes difficult to remember these days, but it’s one of the principles that drives our own writing here and elsewhere. So we end with Nimoy’s wisdom and a video clip that may be familiar and newly meaningful:
You are the curators of your own lives.
You create your own life and work.
Writing Residencies: Five Weeks on the Side of a Mountain October 30, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Writing.
Tags: Art & Science, Writing Retreats
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DOUG’S OVERVIEW (PART 1)
Warning—this post uses a bit of profanity. It’s so commonplace in the adult world that most of us take in for granted. That said, Lofty Ambitions has some younger readers. In fact, Anna and I have received email from some parents indicating that they read our blog with their children. We love that part of our audience, and it’s garnered some of our favorite anecdotes over the years.
Just before I went to Dorland Mountain Arts Colony at the end of the summer, I saw the following quote in my Twitter stream:
Novelist’s prime rule: Shitty first drafts. The need for perfection has killed more novels than N.Y. editors.
I’ve left the name of the Twitter user off of the tweet because that person didn’t acknowledge the origin of the quote. It comes from Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.
Besides the beautiful serendipity of being reminded of Bird by Bird in a tweet (rimshot!), Lamott’s book often comes up when writers discussed their favorite books on writing. In fact, I’ve heard more than one writer express that it’s their absolute favorite book on craft. Here’s the full quote, which I find to be very instructive.
Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.
Although I had never been completely paralyzed by an abject pursuit of perfection, I have on occasion hindered my own progress through attempts to get everything just right before being able to move on. This quote and the intention behind it had arrived at just the right moment. I adopted it as a mantra for my recent stay at Dorland. I vowed that I would move continuously forward on my novel project and that I would worry about making things better—less shitty—in revision.
Some of this was a practical necessity. My sabbatical (or, in the parlance of the library where I work, a professional development leave) was extensive but not endless. The deadline imposed by the end of my leave was looming six weeks in the future, and if I was going to get a complete draft of my novel, something was going to have to fall by the wayside. The pursuit of perfection—a doomed folly in the first place—seemed a perfectly logical thing to give up.
Anna and I are starting to feel a significant connection to Dorland. Like most of us, I grow attached to places. In a midlife discovery that continues to surprise me, the desert has become an important place for me. Years ago, I took a sunrise horseback ride in the desert near Wickenburg, Arizona. For me, during that first desert foray on the back of the horse, it was the colors and the clarity of the light. I later tried to describe the experience to Anna in a phone call. She laughed at me then. Now, Anna and I have both grown fond of the landscape of New Mexico’s high desert near Los Alamos and Santa Fe as well as at Dorland. It’s quiet, hot, dry, removed somehow from the world with which we’re more familiar. The desert reminds us that only certain types of plants and creatures survive in certain environments.
Our stays at Dorland have often included surprises. During my recent stay, an enormous thunderstorm swept over the Palomar Mountains, and it rained. Hard. The hard rain was followed by an even harder hailstorm. Did I mention that it hit 107 F that day? Two of my lizard friends took shelter on the porch of my cabin during the storm. Growing up in Illinois didn’t prepare me to write those words in a single sentence: desert, hailstorm, lizard.
Even though it happened little more than a year ago, one of our Dorland surprises has made into my family lore. This is, of course, the story of the tarantula who came to dinner. My father particularly likes this story. He’s asked me to retell it each time I’ve seen him over the past year. He likes it best of all when Anna is there to add the part that I’ve been accused of leaving out. It seems that my version doesn’t include a supposed squeal that I purportedly emitted upon seeing the tarantula. I have no memory of this scream. I don’t normally doubt the veracity of my wife’s claims, but hers is the only testimony of this event. When Anna chimes in with her bit, my father chuckles loudly. It’s almost a guffaw. I think he likes it that someone is able to keep my ego in check.
If you can’t already tell, I thoroughly enjoyed my most recent stay at Dorland. With five weeks on the side of Palomar Mountain at my disposal, I even managed to learn a few things about my self and about writing. I’ll cover those things in next week’s post.
The Academic Minute: Science Meets Poetry October 20, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science, Writing.
Tags: Art & Science, Books, Radioactivity
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On Saturday, Anna was featured on The Academic Minute, an NPR show out of WAMC that airs on stations nationwide, mostly in university towns. Her subject was the intersection of science and poetry. What’s great is that her segment–both audio and transcript–are now in the archives at The Academic Minute, and the page also includes tidbits about some of Anna’s poems that incorporate scientific terminology and concepts.
LISTEN/READ: ANNA ON THE ACADEMIC MINUTE
One of the recurring goals of both artists and scientists is to explain the universe. A poem can offer a particularized truth: a perspective that, because it is embodied in language that engages the intellect, senses, and emotions, offers knowledge of our world. Similarly, both poets and scientists are limited by the constraints of their respective disciplines, but the methodology and priorities of each are quite distinct.
On Traveling: NASM & Other Serendipity August 13, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Collaboration, Space Exploration.
Tags: Art & Science, ISS, Mars, Museums & Archives, Serendipity, Space Shuttle
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Last week, we were back at the University of Maryland. We lived in College Park, Maryland, in the early 1990s while Anna was earning her MFA and working at the Entomological Society of America and Doug was working for NASA at the Center for AeroSpace Information as an abstractor and indexer. The University of Maryland and the surrounding communities have changed in twenty years, with lots more housing and restaurants (we went to Ledo first).
This time around, Doug was participating in a workshop hosted by HILT, or Humanities Intensive Learning and Teaching. As part of that program, we had the opportunity to choose among several Wednesday field trips. Of course, you know which one we chose: National Air and Space Museum!
The special event focused on a behind-the-scenes look at the new NASM crowdsourcing project called “My Space Shuttle Memories.” Margaret Weitekamp, the Curator of the Social and Cultural Dimensions of Spaceflight Collection at NASM, wanted something engaging for the new “Moving Beyond Earth” exhibit, and she wanted to reflect the ways in which real people interacted with and reacted to the space shuttle program. She worked with Sarah Banks, NASM’s Social Media Manager, to develop a photo crowdsourcing project that culminates in a slideshow display now in the exhibit.
We were disappointed that we hadn’t known about the initial call for photographs, but the museum plans to update the slideshow periodically. So, of course, we uploaded five of our own space shuttle photographs to the “My Space Shuttle Memories” Flickr group as soon as we returned home. We encourage others to do the same!
Based on our discussions with Weitekamp and Banks, we encourage you to follow the guidelines so that your photograph is seriously considered. Even if your photograph doesn’t become part of the slideshow in the museum, it’ll remain part of the collection of “My Shuttle Memories” at Flickr. Here are some things to consider before you upload any Shuttle photos to the Flickr page:
- The photograph MUST include people. Photographs of the space shuttle or of the plume won’t be considered for inclusion in the museum slideshow.
- The photograph must NOT anyone under the age of 18, unless you can provide permission from a parent or legal guardian for all children in the photograph.
- Photographs should focus on space shuttle launches and landings. Generally, very insider photographs won’t be seriously considered for inclusion in the slideshow.
- Photographs of space shuttle launches in the 1980s and 1990s are especially welcome. Many of us went to the last three launches with digital cameras, so those photographs dominate submissions. If you take the time to scan and submit an older photograph, you may have better odds.
- You MUST hold copyright on the photograph and be willing to give NASM permission to use the photograph. If they’re interested in including your photograph in the slideshow, they’ll contact you about that process. (In fact, after you submit photos, you should check the email account associated with your Flickr registration at least every ten days.) Copyright holders of selected photographs may also contribute those images to the NASM Archives, but that’s a different, follow-on process.
NASM is open until 7:30pm over the summer, so we also had plenty of time to traipse about one of our favorites spaces in the world. In addition to the new “Moving Beyond Earth” exhibit, we took a look at “Sprit and Opportunity: 10 Years Roving Across Mars,” which runs through September 15, and the new-to-us “Time and Navigation.” We couldn’t leave without breezing through “Apollo to the Moon.”
Sated with our visit to NASM, we headed home from our cross-country jaunt on Saturday. We returned our rental car, boarded the shuttle bus back to the airport, and heard the doors whoosh shut on our journey. But wait! As we peered out the bus’s window, we saw a spry, white-haired man exit the rental car facility and head behind to the next bus.
We had missed meeting Gene Cernan, the last man to walk on the Moon! Or did we?
We never use curbside check-in, but there was no one in line, and that vantage allowed us to watch for the next bus from the rental car facility. We didn’t see Gene Cernan get off the bus, but Doug headed one way and I headed the other to check the adjacent terminal stops.
There he was!
Apollo 17 Astronaut Gene Cernan, waiting in line to check in for his flight just like everybody else.
We approached. Doug said, “Mr. Cernan.” His daughter nudged him in our direction. “Could we take your photograph?” Doug asked. We thought he might be bothered, feel interrupted
Instead, he came right over to the rope, grabbed Anna’s hand, and said, “How about two?” Cernan and Anna chatted briefly about their flying plans that day, and Anna thanked him for going to the Moon for all of us. When he showed up in the security area, Anna wished him a good flight just before he entered the body scanner.
We’ve written about serendipity before here at Lofty Ambitions. Meeting Gene Cernan was indeed a happy accident. But it happened because we recognized someone who matters to us and were willing to take a little risk to seek out his company for a couple of minutes. As we continue to focus on The Cold War, cancer, and space exploration over this next year, we know we have to look for the unanticipated. Gene Cernan reminded us of that need both for immersion in our interests and for openness to what we can’t possibly predict will happen.
Santa Fe Retreat: Judy Chicago July 23, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science.
Tags: Apollo, Art & Science, Biology, Books, Cancer, Museums & Archives, Nuclear Weapons
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Shortly after we arrived in Santa Fe, Anna leafed through a free tabloid and discovered that the visual artist Judy Chicago was giving a gallery talk at the opening of her new show at the David Richard Gallery. Anna had first come across Chicago’s work in a women’s studies class taught by Penny Gold at Knox College.
We don’t usually write about art at Lofty Ambitions, but we do when there’s a connection to science or to aviation and space exploration. The new work at the gallery demonstrates Chicago’s recent interests in the human body and especially the surface and underlying bones and muscles of the head and face. She became interested in the tradition of anatomical drawings, like those by Leonardo DaVinci. This focus rose earlier in Chicago’s work, when she made three-dimensional cast sculptures of a woman undergoing cancer treatment—that series is casually referred to as the Toby heads. The more recent work, including paintings on glass, explores the relationship of the anatomy and physiology of the face to the expression or emotion that is presented or feigned. As she put it, “I’m interested in what’s under the skin.”
This exhibit and event are part of the year-long celebration of Judy Chicago’s 75th birthday, which also includes exhibits around the country. So a few days after seeing Judy Chicago in the flesh, Anna visited the New Mexico Museum of Art to see the exhibit there and get an overview from docent Meriom Kastner. That exhibit included Grand Toby Head with Copper Eye, 2010 and also several pieces that addressed nuclear science and industry. One of the pieces in the Holocaust Project, which was part of a series that could be viewed from different angles to different effects, offered commentary on the Apollo Moon landings (see the end of this post for photographs of that piece).
So, if all you’ve seen of Judy Chicago’s work are photographs of The Dinner Party, we suggest you look again. Her range of subject matter and artistic media is amazing. When she needed to do watercolors for a project, she learned how to do watercolors. When she became interested in glass and translucency in painting–or when the watercolor medium and techniques couldn’t support her vision for a piece–she took a workshop in glasswork. She even worked with a foundry to figure out how to cast paper as a large three-dimensional sculpture.
Her new book, Institutional Time, is now on Anna’s reading list in hopes that Chicago’s critique of visual art education in universities might shed some light on creative writing education as well. In fact, Anna published a conversation essay with graphic designer Claudine Jaenichen and visual artist Lia Halloran in New Writing and is very interested in connections across different artistic fields.
Of course, we were in Santa Fe to write. And several of our recent posts have offered ways to turn our attention toward writing. Though Judy Chicago talked about visual art and her own artistic practices, much of what she said in her gallery talk applies to writing and to collaboration. Her attitude is one of adventure, of trying new things, of pushing yourself beyond what you can already do comfortably.
We share some of her words of wisdom here:
What isn’t imaged can’t become part of the cultural discourse.
New forms allow new content.
Every failure is an important success—a step in success.
I was interested in how a gesture could mean a variety of things.
I do like to play with details.
For me, art is about discovery. It’s about discovering what different techniques allow me to express.
Judy Chicago explained that Disappointed Head was inspired by a disappointed artist she knew who, in his fifties, thought getting into a particular gallery would change his life. He went into debt, got into that gallery, and nothing changed.
Finally, Judy Chicago’s comment about tattoos (and her use of tattoo-like techniques on porcelain heads) because who doesn’t wonder: I’m not doing that on my ass, I can tell you that!
Santa Fe Retreat (2) July 16, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science, Writing.
Tags: Art & Science, In the Footsteps, Nuclear Weapons, Physics, Radioactivity, Writing Retreats
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Recently, we spent eleven days in Santa Fe on our very own self-made writing retreat. Writing was our goal, but we also recommend Santa Fe as a great getaway even if getting away from your routine is your only goal. You can read about lodging, food, and shopping in our first Santa Fe Retreat post. But wait, there’s more!
MUSEUMS & GALLERIES
Santa Fe is a hub of galleries and has several good art and history museums. When we took a loop around the Plaza, many of the passers-by were chatting about their own art practices or exhibits they had seen. Santa Fe’s Society of Artists features 44 artists, and the city boasts several art schools.
When Anna discovered that the David Richard Gallery was hosting an opening for Judy Chicago’s newest work and that she and art historian Kathy Battista would be giving a gallery talk, she rushed over to the Railyard. During that talk, Anna learned that an exhibit of Judy Chicago’s work since The Dinner Party was on display at the New Mexico Museum of Art. A lovely docent named Miriom Kastner offered an overview of the exhibit, the progression of Chicago’s themes, and the various media Chicago has learned and used in her work over the last several decades.
Some of Judy Chicago’s work fits the subject matter we cover at Lofty Ambitions, and she had some great things to say about the creative process, so we’ll have a separate post focusing on her work and ideas.
FIELD TRIP: LOS ALAMOS
Doug’s writing time in Santa Fe was devoted to his novel-in-progress, The Chief and the Gadget. The Chief is the passenger train between Chicago and Los Angeles, and The Gadget refers to the first atomic weapon, which was developed in Los Alamos. Of course, though we’d been there before, we had to spend a day on The Hill, at Los Alamos. Our two destinations were The Los Alamos Historical Museum and the Bradbury Science Museum, both of which are free.
We hung out at Fuller Lodge, where scientists like J. Robert Oppenheimer, Neils Bohr, and Enrico Fermi socialized. We drove by Oppenheimer’s house on Bathtub Row, now a private residence. The property used for the Manhattan Project had been a boys’ boarding school when the government bought it in 1942, so Fuller Lodge is also where William S. Burroughs and Gore Vidal ate meals as teenagers.
The Bradbury Science Museum is run by the Los Alamos National Laboratory so it covers the history of the Manhattan Project and also the lab’s research projects since then. We watched a short version of the documentary The Town That Never Was and perused the exhibit about some of the individuals who had lived on The Hill as part of the Manhattan Project.
Yerkes Observatory (Photos!) July 9, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science, Space Exploration.
Tags: Art & Science, Palomar Observatory
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This past weekend, we visited Yerkes Observatory in Williams Bay, Wisconsin, near where we each vacationed as children, long before we knew each other. This University of Chicago observatory was funded by Charles Tyson Yerkes, but the 40-inch refracting telescope and the building that houses it are the result of George Ellery Hale’s first grand vision to build the largest telescope in the world. If you haven’t read our posts about Hale that emerged from our visit to Palomar Observatory, you might want to browse that series after this post.
Richard and Dan were the docents on Saturday, and they ran extra tours, back to back for several hours because hundreds of people opted for a trip to the observatory after a round of golf or before an afternoon on the lake during this beautiful holiday weekend. In fact, we were impressed by the level of interest in the observatory and the range of ages of visitors, which reminded us that people think space is cool.
Yerkes Observatory was dedicated in October 1897. The telescope was designed especially to use the spectroheliograph, an instrument Hale had invented himself to study gases in the Sun. He used this instrument to detect carbon in an outer layer of the Sun even before the observatory was officially dedicated. Some of the glass plates from observations of days of yore are now displayed as window panes. Gerard Kuiper, who would go on in his career to discover atmosphere on Titan as well as moons circling outer planets, started his work as an astronomer at Yerkes Observatory.
Though Hale went on to best this once-largest telescope and though subsequent advances, including the Hubble Space Telescope, now reveal parts of the universe farther than this 40-incher can see, Yerkes Observatory remains an active research center. Researchers here are building the HAWC—High-resolution Airborne Wideband Camera—for NASA’s SOFIA project, a Boeing 747 modified to be an airborne observatory. The observatory hosts several educational outreach programs too, in which students can visit the grounds for observations or can operate smaller telescopes by remote control over the internet to conduct observations.
Even if you’re not particularly interested in space, Yerkes Observatory is an architectural marvel, boasting gothic images of satyrs that might be Yerkes himself and three domes. Take a look here at Yerkes Observatory through Lofty Ambitions’ eyes.
Writing Process Blog Hop (Anna) April 23, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Science, Space Exploration, Writing.
Tags: Art & Science, Books, Nuclear Weapons, Radioactivity, Science Writing, Serendipity
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NOTE: Anna also has a recent piece at The Huffington Post about writers’ schedules. Read that by clicking HERE.
We’ve participated in a blog hop before, and we were happy to be tagged for a new one—twice. Because we’ve been tagged by two different writers, we’re doing two different posts as part of My Writing Process, one today and the other, next Wednesday. While we write together a lot, we also each have individual writing projects. So two posts allows us, for a change, to each to have our separate say at Lofty Ambitions.
Patricia Grace King tagged us. She is the author of two award-winning fiction chapbooks, The Death of Carrie Bradshaw and Rubia, both of which we saw in draft as part of our writing group. You can find Patricia’s post about her writing process on her Facebook page or at Paulette Livers‘s website HERE.
Emily Gray Tedrowe also tagged us. She’s the author of the novel Commuters and the forthcoming Blue Stars. We met Emily during our Ragdale residency, and we’re represented by the same literary agent, Alice Tasman. Emily’s blog hop post is at Tumblr HERE.
Anna’s up first, with her thoughts on her poetry writing process.
What am I working on?
Since we started this blog in 2010, we’ve spent a lot of time on weekly posts and on nonfiction related to Lofty Ambitions. That slowed down my work on poems for a while, but I never stopped writing poetry. After a couple years of not paying attention to how many or few poems I was drafting and revising, I ended up with a bunch, some of which drew from subject matter we’ve also covered on the blog, including astronomy, space exploration, cancer, and nuclear weapons development.
Over the past year, we’ve had two residencies at the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony. While there, I carved out substantial time for poetry and focused on writing and revising poems at least loosely related to science. Since returning home in January, I’ve been honing a new poetry book manuscript.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I’ve been pegged as a science poet since Constituents of Matter was published. The science content in that book is not nearly as driving a force as the autobiographical content, but scientific terms and metaphors work as a frame—and maybe a deflection—that I found important. Readers find that layer distinctive and unifying, too.
Allison Hawthorne Deming wrote about the relationship of science to poetry in a way that meant a lot to me when I was thinking about these issues several years ago. My new book manuscript feels as if it does an even better job—more integral, more sweeping, more mature—than my first book in blending science, history, and personal experience. I’ve had a lot of fun figuring it out all over again.
Why do I write what I do?
In fourth grade, I wrote a haiku about a hamburger that was read on the radio. Maybe that first external validation nudged me toward poetry, but I continue to write in different genres and am delighted that my essay in The Pinch was a Notable in The Best American Essays 2013. That external validation makes me want to write more creative nonfiction, though that essay also does some blending of science, history, and memoir that I see in my newer poems.
When we first started writing Lofty Ambitions, I wanted to double-dip, to write blog posts and poems about the same stuff. I wanted a short cut or two-for-the-price-of-one, even though I know connections take time. It took me a couple of years and a couple of workshops—SciWrite and Launch Pad—for me to figure out which language, concepts, and metaphors from astronomy and nuclear science could help me say what I wanted to say as a poet.
How does my writing process work?
That question makes it seem as if a person’s writing process is akin to a recipe that can be followed exactly and come out pretty much the same every time. Instead, my process feels as if I’ve been craving asparagus all day, but I go to the kitchen and there’s none there. Or more likely, it’s become soft and smells, probably gone bad by just a day, because I had a late class last night and sustained myself with peanut butter on crackers between tasks. Will I savor the asparagus more if I have to wait and plan for it, or will I be craving something else tomorrow?
I write poem by poem, knowing that I’m often really interested in a few subject areas for a given stretch of time. Then, once I have a somewhat coherent critical mass—and numerous other poems that don’t belong—I focus and play off what I’ve accumulated. Once I’ve generated more than enough pages for a book (or chapbook) manuscript, I revise and order the poems, pushing some out of the way. The edited collection Ordering the Storm is a good reference for ways to order a poetry manuscript. Several weeks ago, I exchanged manuscripts with Nancy Kuhl; we’re good readers for each other at the manuscript stage. Shearsman has since accepted Nancy’s manuscript for publication, and I’m ready to test the waters myself.
Who’s next in My Writing Process blog hop?
Doug will be up next Wednesday right here at Lofty Ambitions! Then, the following week…
Amanda Niehaus at www.easypeasyorganic.com
Amanda Niehaus is a science writer, blogger, and mother. In 2008, she was diagnosed with breast cancer when her daughter was eight months old. She began “researching all the ways to make my family’s life healthier and happier” and began her blog as a result. She also contributes to magazines and other blogs.
Leslie Pietrzyk at www.workinprogressinprogress.com
Leslie Pietrzyk is the author of two novels (Pears on a Willow Tree and A Year and a Day) and has published short stories in many journals, including Gettysburg Review, Shenandoah, and The Sun. She teaches fiction in the graduate writing program at Johns Hopkins University and is on the core faculty at the Converse College Low-Residency MFA Program. You can read recent short fiction by her at http://rkvryquarterly.com/i-am-the-widow/.
Stephanie Vanderslice at wordamour.wordpress.com
Stephanie Vanderslice, M.F.A., Ph.D., most recently published Rethinking Creative Writing. She writes fiction and creative nonfiction and directs the Arkansas Writers MFA Workshop at the University of Central Arkansas. She also writes “The Geek’s Guide to the Writing Life” column at The Huffington Post. Stephanie is represented by Anne Bohner at Pen and Ink Literary.
The Lunar Eclipse, Apollo 11, & Apollo 16 April 16, 2014Posted by Lofty Ambitions in Space Exploration.
Tags: Apollo, Art & Science, Space Shuttle
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On Monday evening, we stayed up a little late to catch the lunar eclipse. We popped outside, watched for a few minutes as it began. We went outside again twenty or thirty minutes later to watch it again. And then again, and so on.
Anna looked up the word umbra, which comes from a Latin word that means shadow or to be in the shade. Initially, to take umbrage was merely to go sit under a tree, in the shade and out of the sunshine, just as the Moon sits in the shade of the Earth during an eclipse. As we watched the shadow slip well past the midpoint of the Moon, Doug said, “No wonder people were afraid when they saw an eclipse.”
have two moons in my head. […E] every once in a while, I do think of a second moon, you know, the one that I recall from up close. And yeah, it is kind of hard to believe that I was actually up there.
We thought of the men who walked on the Moon and those who circled it alone, especially of Collins, who remained in the Apollo 11 capsule while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked across the orb’s surface and who has spoken and written about his adventures incredibly eloquently. Of his experience, Collins wrote:
Far from feeling lonely or abandoned, I feel very much a part of what is taking place on the lunar surface. I know that I would be a liar or a fool if I said that I have the best of the three Apollo 11 seats, but I can say with truth and equanimity that I am perfectly satisfied with the one I have. This venture has been structured for three men, and I consider my third to be as necessary as either of the other two. I don’t mean to deny a feeling of solitude. It is there, reinforced by the fact that radio contact with the Earth abruptly cuts off at the instant I disappear behind the moon, I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life.
Collins’s wife, Pat, died last Wednesday in Florida. They had married almost 57 years ago; their anniversary is April 28, Anna’s mother’s birthday. He is certainly alone in a new and unwelcome way, and we extend our sympathy to him and his children.
Today, we’re still thinking about the Moon, but we’re celebrating the anniversary of the beginning of the Apollo 16 mission that sent John Young and Charlie Duke to walk upon the lunar surface. Ken Mattingly was the third member of that crew, assigned to Apollo 16 only after being booted from the Apollo 13 crew when he was exposed to measles by one of Duke’s children.
Young had flown on Gemini 3 and Gemini 10 and also on Apollo 10. He would also go on to fly the first space shuttle mission and also STS-9. Mattingly would also go on to fly two space shuttle missions, STS-4 and STS-51-C. For Duke, Apollo 16 was his only spaceflight, and he remains grateful for the sole experience beyond Earth’s atmosphere. This disparate experience probably explains why Duke recounts that his heart was beating twice as fast as Young’s, though, from what we know about Young, no calmer, more collected astronaut ever flew.
In the film In the Shadow of the Moon, Duke recounts the following about his adventure through space:
I was able to look out the window to see this incredible sight of the whole circle of the Earth. Oceans were crystal blue, the land was brown, and the clouds and the snow were pure white. And that jewel of Earth was just hung up in the blackness of space.
When Duke stepped out of the Lunar Module (LM) and onto the Moon, he was 36 years old, the youngest man to walk on another celestial body. He and Young gathered more than 200 pounds of lunar dust and rocks during their more than 20 hours outside the LM. The men returned to the capsule on April 24 and to Earth three days later.
We’ve talked with Charlie Duke twice. As we’ve said before, he’s smart and charming. We’ll end our words at this point and offer you Duke’s own words about his life, career, and hopes for our collective future.