Category: Thoughts

I have the picture, but not the location

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts

I’m planning to get a second tattoo in the semi-near future. It took me a while to settle on a design. I’ve wanted more ink since I got my first piece years ago, and it’s been an ongoing dance of choices and passing fancies. I don’t get tattoos without a very long decision period. I was drawing my first tattoo on myself for months before I got the permanent copy. I still love my tattoo.

There are two images that I am very fond of as tattoos. One is a picture of an owl, which I would get on the inside of my right forearm, at the widest point near my elbow. It would be a brown-dominant tattoo rather than black, as they usually are. But it’s not my immediate choice, because I’ve drawn myself another picture.

It’s a compass. As in, directional. In the centre is a tree, shaped like an aged bonsai, with leaves trailing away, changing from a vibrant, flourishing green into the beautiful yellow, orange, red of autumn. At the cardinal and intermediate directions spread the symbols of the Vegvísir, the traditional Icelandic runic compass.

I took inspiration from other images and drew the complete design by hand. It contains images of things that I have great respect for, or just resonate with me. Every time I look at the picture, I still love it. Love, love, love it. But I have a problem… I don’t know where I want it.

I don’t often have trouble deciding things like the ideal location of a tattoo if I think something would be awesome. The two notions tend to go hand in hand: “If I wanted this as a tat, I’d get it on this part of my body”. Not so with my compass. It’s definitely a larger image, so I’ve considered my thigh, or my stomach. I don’t like the idea of ink on my back, because I wouldn’t be able to see my own tattoo! It wouldn’t fit nicely on my arms, or lower on my legs. I don’t think I’m a chest, collarbone or neck tattoo kind of person unless I went straight for the manubrium, and that would still leave me with the trouble of not seeing it well. I would be in front of a mirror an awful lot!

I guess you understand my trouble.

My only reasonable solution to this problem is to buy some of that print-you-own temporary tattoo paper and trial the locations I’m interested in. My husband is doing his illustrator thing and creating a finalised design for me where everything’s meticulously measured out and uniform (rather than my rough hand drawn version). Then, we will just have to see.

~A

Just half of a fully forgotten memory

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Other Writers, Thoughts

I collect things. Anyone who knows me in person can probably tell you something I collect. Ask ten different people, and they probably tell you I collect ten different things. The truth is, I just keep stuff, not in a deadly-hoarder kind of fashion, but in the “this is useful or interesting or taught me something valuable and I must retain it until it no longer serves that purpose to me” kind of way.

Books, and video games (spanning well over two decades of production), DVDs and CDs flow out of a dozen shelves in my house. I have small wooden boxes and large vintage suitcases, collections of wool, yarn, thread, and scraps of fabric for sewing and creating. Tumbled gemstones, Tarot decks, notebooks and little paper and fabric gift baggies that I usually find another great purpose for.

I also collect quotes and inspiring stories. My favourite is collecting writing advice that doesn’t tell you any of the specific things, but rings that clear, pealing bell inside me, the one that says, “TRUTH!”.

Now, I don’t have the best functioning memory in the world. I usually attribute that to replacing memories too frequently with new information, new ideas. I don’t recall specifics of things I’ve read very well, and that is a kind of blessing. Some days when I’m feeling really lost or uninspired, I might decide to browse through my interesting writing file. Just see if I’ve got anything in there that will remind me why I should do any of it.

I’ll usually find something. Rather, I usually find this blog post by Merlin Mann: Making the Clackity Noise. I can’t remember where I first found this article, or why I read it. It came from somewhere.

It rang true to me in all the right ways. And even if I don’t always end up writing something significant afterwards, I’m happy, because just a little bit of a story fell out of me. I think we get way too caught up trying to do it “right”. There isn’t a right. There is, however, a write. That’s what I’m going to briefly remember to do.

~A

Congratulations, Amazon

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts

The newest Kindle iteration has come just in time. I was already considering an e-reader for my birthday this November, but hadn’t quite been convinced of what I wanted. The announcement of a smaller, simpler Kindle has sealed the deal for me. It’s cheaper, and doesn’t have unnecessary bells and whistles that I really don’t want on a device used for reading books.

My primary purpose for ever wanting an e-reader has been to carry a selection of texts with me in a lightweight and ultra-portable device. The opportunity to download all those free books is just a delight for me, because while I love real books and always will, I usually can’t justify buying many of them with my budget. There’s an entire library worth of old books that are now free to acquire, and I will finally get a chance to read, or re-read the “classics”.

I find it a real chore to read novel-length works on my computer screens, and indeed, I still haven’t finished reading a small handful of e-books I’ve already bought/downloaded because it’s just uncomfortable and inconvenient. I want to be able to read in bed, or at the park, or in the car.

Of course, I doubt I’ll ever use an e-reader as my primary reading source. Books have too many things that you can’t recreate electronically. They feel good, and have textured pages. They smell of paper and ink and other books. There’s the sound of turning the page, and the satisfying faint clomp of closing the book when you’ve finished a great story. The cover art, and browsing the spines, and the small details like publisher logos…

One thing I definitely won’t mind is a lack of dust covers! I always take them off my hardcover books when reading, since I tend to tear them otherwise. But I really do hope my eventual experience with the newest Kindle exceeds my expectations. Even if I resent the idea that my books can run out of battery. 😉

~A

It’s the Spring thing

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts

I am currently mad about growing plants. Fresh produce from my own garden would be so nice, and keeping ferns, growing perennial flowers and generally having a garden that is rewarding.

It sounds like a simple enough process. Collect appropriate planters or prepare the garden beds, ensure the soil is good with compost, mulch, and natural seaweed fertiliser, then plant away! Seeds, seedlings, and larger plants, depending on what’s available, what I want, and what suits the season. I know what I need to for keeping a garden, but I must admit, I’m really bad at it. The knowledge and theory is all there, but something I do in practice has ended in ruin every time.

I have killed dozens of plants, maybe even hundreds. Sometimes there’s a sad couple of cherry tomatoes harvested. I once managed to grow a horribly bitter and stunted carrot, and while totally thrilling to dig it up, it was a disappointment.

It would be easy to joke that instead of having a green thumb, I have the dead and crispy thumb of a failed garden. I can get self-sowing plants to go wild, and there are plenty of flowering bushes in the yard that do fine with absolutely no input from me (except the occasional watering when it’s dry out). Once it comes down to something that I should be involved in maintaining, there’s not much success.

This isn’t too off-putting to me. As the Spring Equinox approaches, I definitely feel the subtle call of nature to celebrate Ostara by planting and growing and tending the garden. I have enthusiasm that this time will be different, and the blueberry bushes with thrive and produce berries. At least this time, I don’t have chickens, as chickens love EVERY part of a blueberry bush (I swear they developed a taste for it).

I look ahead, hopeful that what I’m planting will survive. My ferns haven’t turned crispy yet, and my European Ash bonsai tree is looking ridiculously healthy! The strawberry plants have their first tiny strawberries on them, and the new mulberry tree is suddenly covered in long green berries! This is all a great sign. Maybe my mysterious gardening inability has passed and I will be able to fulfill all my planting urges.

~A

Complicated types of taste

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts, Writing

I don’t pretend to be very widely read anymore, because there are just SO MANY books out there, and I don’t have the time or inclination to consume them the way many others do. I don’t read books that are outside of my normal tastes very frequently, and even in some genres I only read a specific author. This doesn’t really bother me, though I do try to keep up with what’s new and interesting (or old and interesting!), because I have a certain responsibility to know what my chosen profession is doing, right?

So in my quest to remain somewhat attached to the comings and goings of the writing world, I still read books, and sometimes just for the sake of seeing what all the fuss is about. Occasionally, this means I read a really incredible book that is well worth the time and effort, and sometimes this means I am left in a state of wonderment that there should be anything considered remarkable about a book.

There isn’t a simple way to divide and define these books. What makes a person enjoy one story over another? It can be a case of fantastic characters, epic storytelling, or just a universal concept delivered in an accessible format. Maybe they are believable scenarios, or deep truths, or a subject you’re already passionate about. These traits don’t serve as a defining point, though. There are books that people love with honestly one-dimensional characters, then books that the same people will reject for having that flaw. I know this, because I make frank comparisons in my reading and I see myself doing it.

What makes a problem become a fatal flaw in one work, when it can be overlooked in others? Is it the cumulative quality that actually spurs our decisions, and we just put it down to the first simplified answer we come across? What’s worse, we learn all these rules about writing (that are surely for breaking!) and we appreciate why they are important, yet a book can come along and seemingly disregard all the important things you’ve ever learnt, and still be a good book.

I suppose the quest to understand what makes a story good is one of those endless, unanswerable things. Not just because everyone has their own personal taste, but because sometimes the things we love in one instance are the things we hate at other times. People are uniquely capable of these amazing contradictions. At the end of the day, there probably isn’t an answer at all. Not even to ourselves.

~A

Re-reading

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts

I haven’t been reading very many new books recently. I’ve just been way more interested in revisiting stories I’ve already read through. I’ve acquired new books (or as is more likely the case, second-hand books which I haven’t read before), and just not found much reason to delve into them.

I try and analyse why I feel this way. There’s a lot to be said for already knowing I enjoy a story. I guess as I feel like reading time is some pretty prime real estate in my daily life, I don’t always want to use that time on a book that I may not love at the end of it all. When I re-read a story, it’s because I remember just enough of it that I know I will feel great about it afterwards.

I’ve never been one of those people who remembers a book really thoroughly, and that serves me extra well when I take to re-reading. I know the general gist of the story, but there are still parts that I don’t remember until I’m reading it again. Even in my most favourite book, which has been given well over twenty read-throughs, still gives me entertainment from my poor memory for details.

Of the new books I have read, I’ve enjoyed all of them. They’ve all been awesome, so the investment was well worth it. I don’t know why I am so hesitant to give the other books a chance, since there have been very few books in my life that I have actively disliked.

I think part of it, too, is that I love to re-read stories and see what makes them work. Why do I like it, how does the writer do it, what makes this story successful? Re-reading gives me new perspectives on books, because the first read-through is almost entirely for my enjoyment of a story. I don’t tear them apart until I already know what happens. So maybe my desire to read old books stems more from a desire to learn about the craft, even when that isn’t my total conscious decision.

Whatever the case, it’s always nice to meet up with old friends in good stories, and enjoy their tale once more.

~A