Category Archives: Creativity

Degenerate Dictionary Giveaway – Arsenic: A cut on the bum

Let’s have a bit of fun!
Enter for a chance to win a $20 Amazon gift card + more!

Degenerate Dictionary stemmed from a party game Jessica Bell’s parents used to play when she was a kid. Her mother and her best friend had so much fun thinking of funny definitions to regular words that they began to write them down. Unfortunately, that little maroon notebook got lost.

But Jessica remembered a couple:

ARSENIC: A cut on the bum.
PROPAGANDA: Having a good look.

In 2013, she began posting these quirky, idiosyncratic, new definitions of familiar words on Twitter and Facebook with the hash tag #Jessicasdictionary.

I  soon chimed in with some of my own:

QUOTIDIAN: one who exclusively uses sayings, proverbs & maxims to update social media status
DIPTHONG: putting your toe into a pool or other body of water to test its temperature

The exchange went back and forth over a few days until Jessica emailed me. The gist of the message was: Would you like to write a dictionary with me?

Me: *brief pause* Yeah!

And so, what once was a party game played by Jessica’s muso parents in the 80s, then became #Jessicasdictionary almost 35 years later, and is now called Degenerate Dictionary and will soon become a BOOK.

Perfect for every school *cough* classroom *cough*. (I am so giving away a class set to my senior English class).

So what’s the GIVEAWAY?

The launch of this project is going great. So Jessica Bell and I are celebrating the speedy progress of Degenerate Dictionary. And we are giving away TWO $20 Amazon gift cards.

Jessica is also throwing in any eBook of hers that you wish to have (i.e. ALL of them if you want them.)
 
There are two ways you can enter:
 
The FUN way:
Write an example sentence using one of our Degenerate Dictionary words and tweet it to @DegDic. The author of the sentence we like best will win a $20 gift card + my books. With your permission, we will also include it in the book when it’s published. With credit of course!
 
Example tweet:
Everyone saw my sparkly string while waiting in the *stationary*. @DegDic Join in to win here: http://ow.ly/uEvA8 #giveaway
 
Note: When you tweet your example sentence, make sure the word in question is inside two asterisks, that the link is included, the #giveaway hash tag is included, and that the @DegDic handle is included. Otherwise we won’t see it. Don’t forget to replace the sentence with your own!
 
The CLINICAL way:
Enter the contest via the rafflecopter below. The winner selected via the rafflecopter will also win a $20 gift card + Jessica’s books.

CLICK HERE TO ENTER THE RAFFLECOPTER.

You may enter both ways to double your chances.

Good luck! Please spread the word!

Sense of Wonder – Micropoetry

Sense of Wonder

should I ever lose
my sense of wonder
at the occurrence
of the everyday:
a pencil, socks, books, hugs
the child in me
is lost

The Only Proof – Micropoetry

The Only Proof

the only proof
I ever existed
was meeting
a stranger’s eyes
acknowledgment of
another presence
for the length
of a heartbeat

The Act of Creation – Micropoetry

The Act of Creation

When I create
I destroy
The pencil dulls
The paper soiled
What I have destroyed
Is a crucible
For the phoenix
To live again

The Piano Accordion – Micropoetry

The Piano Accordion

The wheezy rattle
Of the squeezebox
Amused us
When we played it as kids
In my grandfather’s hands
It sang love songs

Capes and Undies – Micropoetry

Capes and Undies

It’s hard to be a superhero
When your cape is caught
On the door handle
And you’re left outside
The door in
Only your undies

Why Are Creative People Afraid of Failure?

I am going to say the F-word. It’s not a word we like to hear, nor is it a word we like to use. It exists in our vocabulary but it is very rarely used.

I’m going to say it. Ready?

Failure.

Now, tell me, how do you feel? And remember, this is for posterity, so please, be honest (Thank you, Count Rugen, you six-fingered man of wisdom).

A recurrent refrain is, “I feel like I failed,” said with the tone of negativity intimating it has the finality of death.

I feel like I have failed. I look back over the last year and the first few months of this year and I have failed. I have failed in achieving what I wanted to achieve. I did not meet my writing goals. I did not meet my reading goals. I look over recent writing and now think it stinks worse than the night after a hotdog and baked bean eating contest.

The stereotype of the artistic person as a neurotic, shambolic, ridden-with-fear and afraid of being called a fraud is prevalent in my social media feeds. I see many writers and creative people who declare their insecurities and fears, and I’m no different.

We are afraid of failing.

For example, my collaborative writing partner, Jodi Cleghorn, spoke at her editing workshop, and elaborated on by Delia Strange (How To Stop Hating Your Manuscript) that when you’re editing, you are looking for the faults and problems. It does make you feel like your work is something filthy you’ve stepped in and fit only to be scraped from the bottom of a shoe and discarded. It feels like failure.

The attitude must change.

Recognise the positive attributes of your work, and be aware that you are there to fix the negatives, not be defined by them.

The fear of failure needs to be put to pasture with the myth of the muse.

I see in the students I teach a distinct fear of failure. They would rather not complete a task, therefore failing, rather than attempt the task and risk knowing their work is only worth a Pass. It reinforces their sense of self worth and perception of their ability.

The issue for my students is they cannot see how disciplined effort, feedback and commitment to learning can improve the quality of their work, improve their sense of self worth and individuality.

What constitutes ‘failure’?

Every writer and creative person will define it differently but at the core is a sense of inability to reconcile the imagined world and the real world, seeing the shortfall between the expectation and reality.

Whatever measure you have used against yourself, whether it’s word count, project completion, editing, planning, plotting, the discrepancy between “achieved” and “not achieved” will be interpreted as failure.

What do you do when you feel like you have failed?

Rethink the definition and the perception of what failure is.

When I look at business people and entrepreneurs, their definition of failure is different to that of a stereotypical creative person. They see failure not as an absolute, but as an opportunity.

Failure is always an option. I love seeing it on the Mythbusters t-shirts. Failure is an opportunity for teaching (if you are willing to be taught).

As writers, our characters are faced with failure and disappointment but they learn, or fail to learn from their experience. It is what makes a narrative engaging. Why can’t we learn from our characters and look at our creative endeavours as learning experiences?

Failure is not an absolute.

Failure is teaching and learning process.

Failure is a creative tool.

Let’s start speaking positively about ourselves and understand our failures do not define who we are.

Our perceived failures help us to refine our work, develop our creative skills and in the words of Neil Gaiman, “Create good art.”

It is not our failures that will speak for us but the quality of our creativity.

Fear not.

Barred Vision – Micropoetry

Barred Vision

Standing at the kitchen window
The cross beam of the pane
Demarcates sand/ocean
Standing back the beam
Separates ocean/horizon

The Murraya Hedge – Micropoetry

The Murraya Hedge

the cloying scent of murraya
thick like syrup
in the morning stillness
waiting for the bus and
gagging on last night’s
argument

A Creative Person Teaches People to Listen

Dame Evelyn Glennie is an extraordinary percussionist and gave this insightful TED talk in 2003 (I only came across it recently) in Monterey, California. And she has a beautiful Scottish lilt in her voice.

It has been sitting in the back of my head, slowly composting. As a writer and a drummer, I wanted to find the connection between music and writing, to apply the principles of music to that of writing and creativity, and what it takes for a creative person to teach others to listen.

It’s a long presentation (just over half an hour) so here is the TL;DR version of highlights I picked out.

Evelyn Glennie – How to Truly Listen

One of the first comments she makes is that her job as a musician is all about listening. It is foundational. And it is the same for the writer and the creative person. We listen to stories, to the world around us to inspire and teach us. To teach to listen is to teach people to translate the meaning from their heads and hearts.

I see it as having two parts. The first part is listening as a creative person, listening to the world around you in order that you can create. The second part is the listening by the audience and receivers of your work. We have control over the first part, but not the second.

As a creative person a translation is reading the given text as it is, without adding your own personality to it. It is the technical aspect of reading a piece of music, a novel, a piece of art or film. It is absorbed as data, fact, neutral information.

Evelyn points out that the literal translation of the music will only take you so far. It requires an interpretation.

For a creative person to interpret we assimilate the raw data and begin to synthesise it through the lens of our values and beliefs, gender, perspectives to create. We assimilate and synthesise through listening. Listening to ourselves.

But how do we listen?

Evelyn is profoundly deaf, and has written about her deafness. She says, “I hear it thr0ugh my ears. And through my hands, feet, stomach, cheeks, every part of my body. Listening through the walls; listening far more broadly than simply the ears.”

She goes on to ask the audience, “When you clap, what do you use? Just your hands? How about your body, the floor, thighs, jewellery? Experimentation = improvisation.”

It is about learning how to listen with a different set of “ears.”

As a percussionist, Evelyn uses a range of different sticks. They produce different sound colours. It depends on the weight of the stick, the type of head (rubber, woollen, wooden) and produce different sound colours. They are the tools to allow her to interpret the music and can be likened to our own likes, dislikes, personality, temperament, culture.

As the percussionist uses drumsticks as a tool, what tools do we use to produce our art? How do we use them? To what effect?

Performing a piece on the glockenspiel, Evelyn points out the resonators beneath the instrument. Their purpose is to amplify the sound made. She comments that we are all connected to sound and become a participator in the sound. What the eye sees, sound is happening, being imagined. We are all participators of sound. When we listen, listen carefully, we become the resonators and participators.

As writers or creative people we listen to be able to say something through our creativity. To create a piece of art where the reader and participator experiences the whole of the sound, in the entirety of the journey from the breath to the striking or plucking of the instrument to make sound; in the reading of a novel, watching of a film, appreciating a piece of art.

A creative person teaches someone to listen. First they listen to the text they are reading before it is internalised and filtered. Then they can hear what we are saying through our art.