Little Words & Zed

I've worked many years as a copy editor and have a fairly good memory for spelling. It's amazing really that we ever standardized the English language, if you take into account that there's British English, American English and the bastard child of both, Canadian English. AE and CE say "synchronize" instead of "synchronise", but BE and CE say "neighbour" instead of "neighbor" and "travelled" instead of "traveled." There are a few other odd words such as "jewellery" vs "jewelry." But mostly we can understand each other even if Canadians say "zed" and Americans, "zee." I'm an adamant proponent of continuing the "zed" pronunciation (being Canadian) and when some little tads corrected me with saying, "It's zee." I pretty much bit my lip and corrected them since they're Canadian. Alas the invasion continues.

So is it any wonder that there are so many misspelled words considering that Shakespear spelled his name so many different ways? Of course a lot of this had to to with relative illiteracy. If you didn't write regularly, even if you knew the rudiments, you weren't very likely to spell things correctly.

As an editor, sometimes words are so often misspelled the same way that I start to doubt my own senses and look up words that I know are spelled incorrectly. Here are a few words of the modern age that are mispelled frequently:

• burgundy (not burgandy for colour or wine)
• indefinitely (not indefinately, received three times last week) if it's not finite then it's indefinite like infinity .
• no one (not no-one nor noone)
• its (the most misused word ever: if it is blue then it's blue. If something belongs to it, then it is its.
• twenty, thirty-something (twenty-two not twenty two)

I find it particularly bad when I read books that have many misspellings but it all depends on how good the publishers are at maintaining quality and if they care. Many small publishing houses do not even have copy editors and depend on (demand) the authors to proofread their work. Of course everyone should always do that and hand in relatively clean copies. Still when you're looking at a story over and over again you are bound to miss some of your own typos. A second set of eyes is always best.

Musings From Tibet III

This is the last part of Angela's email on Tibet:

There are many arts that come out of Tibetan monasteries, some of which I have pictures of here. Some of my pictures are from Rekong which is actually thought of as the art capitol of Amdo (this upper region of Tibet), possibly even of all Tibet. Mostly they are famous for their thangka painting, which unfortunately I didn't get to photograph, I only have pictures of the buildings and stupas there, but they are pretty amazing, intricately painted and carved, etc. From Labrang monastery I again have many pictures of the buildings, but I also have some pictures of cham dancing, and the butter sculptures which are both really fascinating art forms. The cham dancing is done by the monks, and it portrays stories of great events in the history of Buddhism. Sometimes it's the lives of the great masters, or sometimes the bringing of scriptures from India, mythical tales, etc.

The butter sculptures are incredibly intricate and colorful, in this case mostly of great Buddhist masters such as Tsongkaba (founder of the Gelukpa sect), Shakyamuni Buddha, etc., also lots of flowers, and other ritual shapes. The amazing thing about these is that they really are constructed from butter (in case you couldn't guess that from the name). They make these once a year just before Losar, then keep them throughout the year.
Speaking of butter, food in general seems to be a central theme in Tibetan culture, more so than most other places I've seen. The second you enter a house you are offered (practically forced) tea, and bread or whatever other food is sitting around. To refuse is not rude, but it is not really accepted. No matter how full you are, it's near impossible to get by without at least drinking a cup of tea. This became an entire art form for me, and a very difficult one at that - the art of refusing food. But another thing that I noticed was the fact that whenever I was taking pictures, having food around was essential. If I took a picture of a single person, they usually needed to have a full cup of tea in their hand, and at least a bowl overflowing with bread in front. When I was taking pictures of Jinpa and Gonpu's (Shedhe's cousins) homes, they made sure that they moved the bowls of food around so that they were in the picture. After all, if I brought pictures of their homes back to India and there was no food around, they might get worried that their families didn't have enough to eat. Food heaping is an art for them as it isn't enough to just fill a bowl with fruit or bread, it has to be heaping so high that it looks ready to collapse if you so much as speak next to it. But alas, after years of practice, it is actually very stable.

You will notice that in the pictures, most of the women wear long strings of red beads around their necks. These are traditional for nomad women, especially in Amdo. They are made out of red coral which is becoming more and more rare in Tibet, and I was surprised to find out that each bead costs between 100-400 Chinese yuen (there are about 7.7 yuen to one US dollar right now). As there are often a hundred or two of these beads on a necklace, the price is oftens imilar to buying a house. This is the way that women literally wear their wealth around their necks as a status symbol. Gold is also very popular, though I recently found out from one of my friends here that gold is a new thing, probably brought in by the Chinese. Apparently at least in some places 10 years ago people only had silver but now gold has become the big thing. Obviously its much more expensive, so again a status symbol. I'm not sure when this came in, as Shedhe values gold much more than silver (we argue about that often as I don't particularly like gold, but he doesn't like silver, he thinks it looks cheap) and he's been here for around 7 years, but one of my friends here said that in her village (which is only a few hours from Labrang) she never even saw gold and she's been here for around 12 years. Fashion amongst the nomads is very important, and they use it as an opportunity to display their wealth. I was also intrigued to find out that each different village, even if they are only an hour apart from each other have their own distinct fashion. To my eyes it mostly looked the same, but everywhere I went people were telling me that I looked just like a Senko nomad (Senko being the place where Shedhe's family is from) even when they had no idea who I was staying with. Not only the style of sewing the clothes was different from village to village, but also the way that you tie the chupa/tsarer is different. I not only learned to tie mine from mother, but the ones that I wore were also hers, thus why people recognized the area I was living in. 4 hours away, in the town of Rekong the chupas looked very different, even to my untrained eyes.

I was amazed just how different Tibet was from Dharamshala. Being in India I thought that I was learning a lot about Tibet, and though I was, it was nothing compared to actually being there. I could go on for hours about Dharamshala and how/why the people there have changed, but that is an entirely different paper.

The thing that I noticed most about Tibet was just how Chinese it had become, and how much it will continue to do so. In Tibet, I had to be careful to even mention the Dalai Lama, and certainly did not dare to utter the words "Free Tibet." But while in Dharamshala, I went to many protests for Tibetan freedom, and lived in a city of people who every day fight for it with every fiber of their being and live every day of their lives for the news that they and their families are free at last. After so much of that, I started to believe that it was a possibility. How could it be possible that so many people around the world were fighting for something so noble, and have it not come to fruition? It just didn't seem possible.

I remember walking home from teaching one day in Tibet, seeing all the Chinese signs painted on walls, the kids in Chinese clothes, all the modern technology and the food wrappers strewn on the side of the street. I started thinking about it, and realized that no matter how much I did not want to admit it, I think Tibet will never really be free from its Chinese colonizer. Though Tibetans work hard to preserve their culture, it is dying out with every new generation, becoming more and more Chinese practically by the minute. China has invested a lot into making Tibet what it is; they just built a new railroad all the way to Lhasa, have set up a huge tourist industry, recently discovered some sort of large Ore or Iron deposit and have made a lot of money out of the natural resources there. China is an incredibly powerful country, so powerful that nobody in the world, including the US will stand up to them. To them, there is no reason to give up Tibet, but there is lots of reason to keep it. Upon this realization a very strong sense of grief flew through me, and as I walked into our home to see this old conservative nomad family that I loved so dearly, I nearly wept for the loss that they have to endure every day. Not only have they lost their son Shedhe to exile, but every day they have to watch the destruction of their culture and religion, and live in terrible fear of the people who have surrounded them. I've heard stories of the things his parents had to endure after the Chinese occupation (they were relatively young when it happened, but the brutality lasted for a long time), and I see the physical scars and deformities from it on their bodies. I see it in their faces and hear it in their voices. Though conditions there are much better now than they were for a long time after the Chinese first came in, it is still a daily struggle. Already they live in a climate which itself makes living difficult, but now they are prisoners in their own lands.

Musings From Tibet II

Earlier, I posted excerpts with permission about Angela McDonald's time living in Tibet. This is another installment of her journey, which she wrote after returning to India. It's especially apropos after the students who were arrested in Bejing for unveiling a flag that said "Free Tibet" on the Great Wall:

I was living in a village called Tanauk which is abouta 15 minute walk away from Labrang Monastery, and beyond the monastery is the city of Labrang or Xiahe(Chinese name, probably spelled it wrong). Shedhe'sbrothers still live in Senko, the nomad grassland which is about 20 minutes from Tanauk. He grew up there, but his parents moved into the city maybe 10 years ago so that they could take care of their grandkids while they were in school. Labrang monastery is enormous, with nearly 2,000 monks studying there (though the Chinese technically put a 1,000 cap on the admittance.....the people have to come up with interesting tricks to try and hide that one). Though largely destroyed during the cultural revolution, it has been mostly rebuilt and is considered to be one of the greatest monasteries in Tibet. I helped Jinpa write a brief history of the monastery so learned a lot about it, but I will spare all the details. Basically, it is a really huge and important Gelukpa (one of the 4 major sects of Tibetan Buddhism, the sect the Dalai Lama also belongs to) monastery which is also the central monastery for the surrounding area.

Most of the houses (including the one this familylived in) were are made out of what appeared to be mudcovered wood. The Tibetans are famous for buildings made out of pounded mud. Some newer buildings are now made out of bricks in the Chinese style, but most were still mud, especially for Tibetan families. The mud seemed to take fairly constant upkeep, and many mornings I would see mother or our neighbor dragging a big stone wheel across the roof to further compact the mud (it looked like a primitive steam roller), and take more mud to fill in cracks or damaged spots. When they were doing this, pieces of mud would fall in from the chimney holes in the roof or through the wood planks on the ceiling. Inside, the walls, ceiling and floors were solid wood. It was really beautiful, but I would often worry as the wood didn't appear to really be treated (with anything other than dirt), and Shedhe explained that often the wood rots and needs to be replaced. Water is constantly poured on the floor to keep down the dust (especially in the winter, homes for the nomads as the floors were just dirt, so it was constantly wetted to keep the persistent dust down)and the floors were also very uneven, the boards raising up in one spot and flat down in other places. It was easy to stumble when you awoke in the night drowsily stumbling to the toilet. There were several rooms in our house built around a central courtyard; one was used as a small apartment which another man and his son lived in, one was the room with a hole in the ground serving as a toilet (mostly I used it; usually the others just went outside) and also held all the dried sheep and yak dung (which fueled the cooking stove), one room was for storage, one had a stove especially for roasting tsampa, and then ourf amily lived in three of the rooms. In the courtyard of every home is at least one ferocious dog which acts as the doorbell (built in with person recognition, a different bark tone for every call at no extra charge), home security system, compost, and garbage disposal. In all the rooms which people lived in there is what looks like a standard wood stove but is fed with animal dung, and is used for cooking and heating the house. Sometimes the stoves are also made out of pounded mud, and those are only used for cooking, but others were made of metal and used also for heating, with a tea pot of boiling water or tea constantly on top.

The Tibetan people are incredibly religious, especially the older families such as the nomads. I found it interesting that the lay people actually knew very little about Buddhism, but they know that they have to go by the ceremonies, holidays, and rituals, etc. that were tradition for the religion. Lamas (similar to priests or monks for Christians) are consulted to do mo (a form of divination or fortunetelling) for everything in life from marriages to debating about going to a hospital or not, which business opportunity to take, etc... Every morning some form of prayer and offering is done at home as every home has its own small altar inside (including a picture of the Dalai Lama which surprised me), and during the day at any free moment, the older people have prayer beads in their hands (similar to a rosary) and are chanting mantras or going gorah(circumambulation - prayer by walking clockwise around a monastery, temple, or stupa). Everything in their lives has to do with Buddhism. I read in "My Land MyPeople" by H.H., the Dalai Lama that around 10 percent of the Tibetan population are monks or nuns. A large percentage of families have at least one member living in a monastery/nunnery. When a monk comes to your home special food is made, they are given the highest seat in the house, and every demand is served with care. Some of my friends who were monks avoided going to other peoples' homes very often because too much of a fuss was made over their presence.

Vanity Searches

I spent a couple of hours this week searching myself out. Why? To fluff up my ego? Hardly likely. A vanity search will often reveal how insignificant we are in terms of the Google world. At least I'm on the first google page but not so much for my published stories as for this blog.

But still, I thought I better find what's listed about me before it all disappears. Should there come a day for me to prove I published something or to apply for a grant, then in some cases this may be the only published proof, such as my online flash fiction "On Wings of Angels" in Vestal Review 7. I found that still up and printed the page since I didn't have a "published" copy, it being only internet published.

It's also, partially, how I found out I had received two honorable mentions for my story "Hold Back the Night," which had appeared in the Red Deer Press Open Space anthology. I'd known I had received an honorable mention in Gardner Dozois' Year's Best SF, but only a few years later did I find out the story had received the same in Datlow and Windling's Year's Best Fantasy and Horror. One story, both SF and Fantasy when there was no SF I know of in it. :) But who's complaining: not me. Still, the vanity search has shown what few reviews of my work are still out there and though none scream that my work is stellar, most don't say it sucks either. And I do have the distinction of Hold Back the Night being the only story in the anthology to receive two honorable mentions, plus having been shortlisted for the Gaylactic Spectrum award (a gay character in speculative fiction), which I only ever found on the net.

But still, I'm a small pea in a large pod and there are a lot of Colleen Andersons, some 80 google pages in fact. There is a songwriter and poet (Mother Wit) who seems to have the most hits, plus another writer with the same name. There's a minister, a scientist, a professor, a real estate agent, a tax assessor, a nurse, etc. Of course I'm some of these things too. But I'm certainly not the only Colleen Anderson and perhaps I'm not the real one. I've run into a couple others in this city alone.

Still, a vanity search can be enlightening in just how many of your posts or even how your address ends up on the internet. I can't help but think of my childhood nemesis Laura Morse who lived two doors down from me. We met at the age of 4 and never liked each other, and had the dubious pleasure of spending grades 1-12 together, going to the same schools. Her younger brother and mine were the best of friends. We were barely playmates. She used to say she would only read books that had her name in them.

Searching for Laura Morse today doesn't turn up her name but then she married and changed her last name. Yet, google might still be useful to her if she has to find books with Laura in them (more by authors though, than characters). One can only hope her horizons have broadened.

And we, that fill one page in 8o, hope that some day there may be many pages, indicating perhaps a rise in pay for being a writer. Of course, one could always do something notorious and then your name would rise on the google listings. In the meantime, I now have printed copies of any reviews, should I decide to try and get a grant for writing speculative fiction. Hmm, I think I'll wait a bit longer.

The Romance of Personals

After listening to fellow writer and Canadian Jo Beverly's interview on CBC's Sounds Like Canada about the belittling of romance stories, you could say I've been inspired. http://www.cbc.ca/soundslikecanada/ (Friday Aug. 10, 2007) However truth is that I have been indulging in urban romance for a while.

Now it's not my romance but more that I'm a voyeur hanging from the ropes that dangle above the tangled hearts. I love reading the Georgia Straight's "I Saw You" personals. Some entries are always bland, but some are cryptic, mysterious, romantic, kooky. Someone recently posted about their sunglasses and how no one else would want them but how she missed them. Once in a while someone leaves an entry about finding something, or the jerk that stole their wallet. But most are about missed connections. There was the orange week, which had these two entries:

Blonde Guy on Main Bus -Sunday July 8, 1pm
You: Dark green cargo shorts, pale blue shirt? Blonde hair under a cap listening to headphones. You got off at Terminal skytrain. Me: Bright orange tank top, light blue jeans. I couldn't stop staring at you from behind my glasses. Wanted to grab you right there. Are you down for a bit of rough and tumble?? physicalfighter@hotmail.com

Bright Orange and inked at McDonald's
You were sitting in McDonald's on Robson and Bidwell on July 11th, wearing a bright orange shirt. I stumbled past, waterlogged, melting and awestruck. All I could manage to think was, "Who looks like that?" You gave a cigarette to a homeless man and vanished with your bike and Starbucks. Obviously, I do not know who you are or what your story is, I simply wanted to tell you that I'm glad you exsist. And I dig your watch.

So I decided that every two weeks I would add my own cryptic, romantic notes, written by the gods, so to speak. One is in there now and the other will appear next week. Why not, where else can you have your piece read and puzzled over, probably increasing readership to a higher level than you'd get for a poem? I wouldn't call these poems but I might start that next.

Flight of Fancy
You: a penchant for disquise, those long white quills, a golden beak. Me: I was just a Spartan girl, already married, but that didn't stop you. I've heard you never stick around. Who will help with the children whether good eggs or not? You could send some support to xxx@hotmail.com.

My Cupid
I know you never were a little cherub, just a god. My love for you still burns brighter than the lantern that illuminated what you never wanted me to see. Your mother may have a great power but still she manipulated me. Will you forgive my error, rescue me from this island. Undyingly, your Psyche.

Summer Slowdown

There have just been too many things going on. Summer becomes busy with the usual work but all the sun worshipping going on. That and some extra work and going away for this weekend has made everything woodgy. Next week, I will hopefully figure out a way just to list the titles of past entries so it's easier to find things here. So, even though I could go on about all sorts of topics I'm just going to post the continuing summer submission challenge that we do over at the Twilight Tales group.

SUBMITTED IN July: Spec fiction: 7 submissions
“Ice Queen” Speculative Realm
“Highest Price” Glimmertrain
“Unpacking Boxes” Super-Sexy Short Story
“Werewolf,” “Pumpkin’s Watch”, Lycanthrope anthology
“Ice Queen” Speculative Realms
“Highest Price” Glimmertrain

ACCEPTED: 1
“Strict Management” by Cleis Press

REJECTED: 8 submissions
“Hidden Diaries” Fantasy
“The Strip” Ruins
“What Strange Fruite” Aeon
“Bite Me” Strange Horizons
“House of Cards” Prairie Fire
“A Book by its Cover” Noctem Aeternus
“Nick of Time” Weird Tales”Flight” Clarkesworld

STORIES STILL OUT from January on: 17 & poemsSpec Fiction: 11 sumbissions
“Serpent’s Mouth” Pagan Fiction Award
“Timebubbles” Withersin
“Changes” IGMS
“Safe Sex” New Genre
“Cold Bones” Story Station
“Amuse-Bouche” Deathlings
“Lady Lazarus” Interzone
“In the High Tower” On Spec
“An Ill Wind” Talebones
“The Brown Woman” All Possible Worlds
"Rites of Passage” Dark Discoveries
Erotic fiction: 1 submission
“Pearls and Swine” Fishnet
Fiction: 5 submissions
“No Place to Go” American Short Fiction
“Bird in the Hand” Pulpnet
“Sackcloth and Ashes” Fog City Review
“Slow Burn” Cincinnati Review
“Elastic” The Sun
Poems: 5 submissions
“Secrets of Trees”, “Garuda’s Folly”, “Negotiating the Power that Drives Me Round,” “Dark Side,” “A Match for Nostradamus” Strong Verse
“Courtship,” “Whole World,” “What Goldilocks Learned” Going Down Swinging
“Persephone Dreams,” “Finding Dionysus,” “The Traveler,” “Geomystica,” “Of the Corn” Tin House
”Talesen’s Traps:” poems 1-4, From the Asylum
“Sweat Lodge,” “Between the Lines,” “Dust,” “Evidence,” “In the Garden” Agni
Rewrite asked for on “Mermaid” Abyss & Apex