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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Author Archives: petersironwood

Critters

07 Wednesday Feb 2024

Posted by petersironwood in family, nature, Walkabout Diaries

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animals, life, nature, photography, story, trees, truth, walk

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

Life on planet earth is over 4 billion years old. There are also no known “skips” in life. In other words, each generation of life, N comes from the previous generation N-1 and generates the next generation N+1. Every living thing on earth today, so far as we know, has the same unbroken line of ancestry dating back 4 billion years. We all share ancestors. 

Vertebrates appeared about 500 million years ago. This means that we humans share 7/8 of our heritage with every living fish, bird, reptile, amphibian, and mammal. Indeed, fish have a heart, a brain; they mate; they eat; they have blood; they move; they learn. They flee danger. If someplace is a good source of food, they hang out there. 

Early humans must have intuited that they were very like (as well as somewhat unlike) other animals. Otherwise, they would not have learned how to track them and hunt them, let alone train them. In the last few hundred years, however, we have learned much more about how similar we are to other animals anatomically, physiologically, and behaviorally. 

If you’re interested in delving a little more deeply into the science, I recommend the books by Stephen Jay Gould. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Jay_Gould

I happen to think this branch of science is fascinating. 

But it’s more than that. To me, it’s also heart-warming. It’s comforting in many ways. 

First of all, I am in awe of our extended family. Life has survived for over four billion years! It hasn’t just survived; it has evolved in a million different directions. Our family includes trees that live thousands of years and grow hundreds of feet tall. Our family includes animals and plants too small to be seen by the naked eye; birds that migrate thousands of miles; whales that weigh 300,000 pounds.  

Second, it is comforting to me to know that the Tree of Life is secure against the short-sighted greed of a small number of humans. Ecological disaster, atomic war, pandemics are certainly damaging human life and comfort as well as destroying whole species. But the Tree of Life is vast and more importantly, incredibly diverse. The self-destruction of humanity is possible and would be incredibly sad. But the Tree of Life? We won’t destroy that. 

Third, it is comforting to see, hear, and interact with the biome. The way that life interacts with other life is beautiful to observe. I view it as a drama, a symphony, a tapestry, all rolled into one. When I go for a walk, I walk through life; I walk through my family; I walk through a work of art and become reminded that I am one with it. 

Birth and death become the same: turning a page in a marvelous and endless story. That’s not to trivialize or belittle it. Turing the page of a story is actually a big deal! Pages make chapters. And chapters make books. 

Happy reading.

—————

Author Page on Amazon

Math Class: Who are you?

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

A Cat’s a Cat and That’s That

The Forest

The Dance of Billions

The Gods of Old

30 Tuesday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

art, Democracy, inspirational, life, love, poem, poetry, politics, USA

The gods of old had seemed to lurk and shirk.

The people bowed instead to cons who screamed:

“To solve your problems won’t take thought or work!

King ME and you’ll have all you ever dreamed!”

“For ME you kill and die! I never lie!”

So many played the stupid game of crime.

So many named the crime ‘a loving sigh.’

So many ate the fearful hate filled chyme.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

And when (as always) karma killed them dead,

They had a glimpse (but far too late) that hate

Can never plant a flower bed; instead,

It opens wide a hellish galling gate

It tears apart the bonds of love and life;

It teaches each that no-one dared or cared.

Like ravenous wolves in endless strife that’s rife

With treason, lies and dead-eyed stares; teeth bared. 

Photo by bigworldinalens on Pexels.com

Yet far in the distance a different song wafts on the wind.

The sigh of the evergreens sings from the souls of the dead:

“Oh, please don’t be fooled yet again by the lies that are ginned.

Don’t feed on the meat of the losers who lie and instead:

“Join up with the legions of peace and of love and of light.  

Regain your adulthood and hold with the healers of hearts;

With rainbows and those who are weaving a world of delight;

Just love those around you; surround you with builders and arts.”

And thus at long last, world peace came to pass on this earth;

The days routinely filled with joy and mirth. 

The people felt a planetary birth.

The water flowed in bubbling crystal streams.

The air smelled clean and fresh and filled with dreams.

The dancers danced; a million hugs it seems

Went round this green and loving earth that teems

With trout and robin, spruce and sparkling gleams.

Photo by Trace Hudson on Pexels.com

The Dance of Billions

All we Stand to Lose

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Only Them that Counts

Life Will Find a Way

After All

Math Class

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Forest

The Crows and Me

So Much More

Guernica

Who Can Tell The Dancer from the Dance

Author Page on Amazon

Tennis Upside Down

24 Wednesday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in poetry, sports

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

AustralianOpen, chaos, nintendo, noise, pickleball, poem, poetry, sport, sports, Tennis

Preamble: We’ve been watching and enjoying the Australian Open. We both play tennis and enjoy watching good play. I might mention that I also enjoy rock concerts. In general, I have no philosophical problem with mixing genres. It was worth a try to mix rock concert with tennis coverage. For me, it utterly failed. The hype spoils the game for me. I want the loudest voice on the tennis coverage to be the Thwack of a well-hit shot. To contextualize the game of tennis (a game of centimeters) with giant dimensions does not serve it well. And, it certainly doesn’t serve me well. I want to skip over all that part and get to the tennis.

It’s a Hoopla, and Koopla, and WOWness and Feel!

A Laser of Rainbows and Medleys of Steel! 

Australian regalia and Wimbledon shouts

It’s jeering and cheering and drunken old louts! 

It’s Fireworks a Poppin’ and the Gonging of Gongs!

It’s screaming the dreaming and shouting of songs! 

It’s Christmas and New Year and Eastertime crosses!

We’ve Icons and Symbols and Cherrypicked Glosses! 

Each Shot is aMAZing and Dazing and Crazily Fine! 

Each Sigh is a Feast that’s complete with red Wine!

The voices grow louder and that’s how we know!

We’re watching the Best of the Best Picture Show! 

Though…

I do recall more measured ways to speak.

Announcers gave analyses and spoke

Like normal human beings; they did not shriek. 

They did not sound as though they’d surely choke.  

Or drown in all that hype and ooze and swill.

They got excited when a shot was great. 

As folks will do for plays that truly thrill. 

But not like furry apes about to mate.

Photo by Jo Kassis on Pexels.com

They say it’s all about the clicks and gate.

So everyone must bow to flash and bang.

When everything’s a jarring lure to bait,

I long for times without explosive clang. 

I find the athletes and their stellar play

Enjoyable enough without the hype. 

My dog cannot abide; will not stay.

I think perhaps, the time is finally ripe

For entertainment of a gentler sort.

The stats are fine; insightful words are wise.

My soul would see the beauty of the court.

My mind would find, define my own surprise. 


Author Page on Amazon

Sports Fans Only

Wimbeldon

US Open Closed

You make the call

Somewhere a Bird Cries

20 Saturday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 63 Comments

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, general, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, USA, war, writing

Somewhere a bird cries. 

Perhaps it is a lonely crow. 

Though, in truth, a cawing crow most often brings more crows. 

To scare away a screeching hawk, 

Or share to feast on bits of broken life 

Scattered willy-nilly on the rocks of a crumpled building. 

Stone quarried and hauled and put in place and now in ruin.

Now in ruin.

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Somewhere a baby cries. 

Trapped beneath the rubble. 

The baby does not know; cannot know

What happened to mommy and her warm milk. 

The She of all that warmth and smile and love 

Inexplicably gone forever. 

Gone forever.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Somewhere an old man dies, 

Perhaps of sepsis from the jutting bone 

No-one left to help him hobble to nowhere

For nowhere is exactly where the care he needs persists

Just as likely, he dies of a broken heart; he had hoped

Hoped for a better life for his children and his grandchildren

But he sees that is not to be. 

Not to be.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Somewhere a young woman sighs, 

The gray day’s rain runs in rivers through the ruins 

Of her village and her dreams in streams and she sees 

In the screen behind her eyes the soldiers laughing as they

Ravage her too young body her too raw love that now

Will never come again no more dreams 

Only nightmares.

Only nightmares.

Somewhere a so-called ‘Strong man’ does not cry;

Does not sigh. His fingers sport a manicure.

He merely issues orders; plans another massacure. 

He spouts his lies and promises and promises and lies

He terrifies the people and the people will believe

He enrages the people and the people scream their hate

He has them rushing headlong into yet another turn 

Of the Wheel of War and the people attack the people

And the game of checks and slays continues on and on and on and on.

On and on and on and on.

It is indeed a wondrous game, the Wheel of War.

It crushes old and young. 

It crushes hopes and dreams. 

It blackens every sky and even flowers die. 

It fouls the crystal water and the air that people breathe. 

It is indeed a wondrous game, the Wheel of War. 

The Wheel of War. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

For everyone loses and no-one wins. 

Except for the manicured man with plastered hair.

Except for the man with the painted face. 

Who crushed the dreams and spun the Wheel of War. 

His victory is gray and shallow and he knows he’s lost 

He’s harmed the very Tree of Life

Because he could not win the game of Love

Because he could not win the game of Life

He chose instead to spin the Wheel of War

That spills and kills; undermines; explodes; crushes. 

He destroys in minutes what took centuries to build. 

What took centuries to build. 

Long after the ‘strong man’ is dead:

Beneath the orchard burned to char,

In broken buildings near and far, 

The Tree of Life sends shoots of spring.

And birds again will take to wing. 

And hope and love will rule the day. 

And no-one, no-one wants to play

The dumbest game—the warring way. 

Photo by Lucas Pezeta on Pexels.com

The parasites who prey on fear

Who ruin the rainbow with a jeer

Inside their weakness gnaws and grows.

They cannot see the glow of rose. 

They cannot feel love’s warm embrace. 

They truly fear and hate it all. 

They’re too afraid to play fair ball. 

The only game for them is hate.  

They long ago locked every gate. 

They want to kindle fear in you.

And train you up to hate the few.

Somewhere a joyous chorus sings. 

All the bombs and guns are ground to dust. 

All the people finally feel the shame. 

All the people finally see the sham.

All the people finally know 

What is weak and what is truly strong. 

And the giant Wheel of War 

Falls to shards, never to be spun again.

Never to be spun again. 

Never to be spun again.


The Dance of Billions

All we stand to lose

The Only Them that counts

After all

Only the Crows

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Essays on America: The Game

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-Taters

Life is a Dance

Life Will Find a Way

Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries: Levels of Beauty

14 Sunday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Walkabout Diaries

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

beauty, flowers, life, nature, peace, poetry, rose, roses, truth

Christopher Alexander was an architect who wrote much about architecture, including the well-known book, A Pattern Language. Later, he also wrote about “The Nature of Order.” He posits 15 properties of natural beauty and good design, the first of which is “Levels of Scale.” I was thinking about that today as I admired our Jacob’s Coat Rose bush which blooms about 3-4 times a year here in San Diego.

Most of us see the flowers of the rose as beautiful. And indeed they are. They are beautiful from afar. They are beautiful up close. But so too are the other parts of the rose plant. At least, sometimes, the leaves are also quite beautiful.

Even the thorns are beautiful.

Beyond this surface level, the rose, like all living things, is beautiful inside. Like all living things, it’s survived four billion years of evolutionary time. The way cells are arranged and the way they work–this is beautiful as well. Moreover, the relationship that roses have to humans and bees are also beautiful. Imagine having the faith and hope to depend on a completely different species to reproduce. Imagine being so beautiful that human being across the globe spend their time and money to keep you thriving.

Did I mention that, like other green plants, roses remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and provide oxygen for animals like us?

Roses are so famous that they play a part in history and pageantry. The War of the Roses. The White House Rose garden. Destroying part of the Rose Garden is also symbolic. The Rose Parade. Individuals give each other roses. They are variously symbols of love, friendship, and peace. Roses appear in poetry, songs, paintings, and both first and last names.

“A Rose is a rose is a rose.”


Fifteen Properties

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

Author Page on Amazon

The Buzz of a Bee?

02 Tuesday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

book-reviews, books, fiction, negotiation, peace, reviews, Science fiction, story, war

Though she trained diligently for years to lead such a mission of mercy, Ptera-1-Hym felt a complex panoply of Arcturian chemotions. One of those chemotions hovered close to the human concept of pride but with none of the egotistical and hubristic accoutrements that often cloud human judgement and, according to the ancient Greeks of Earth, often lead to deadly divine interventions. Ptera-1-Hym, like nearly all her nano-horde, saw duty, pride, inevitability, fate, faith, and fastidiousness as six petals of the same cosmic flower. 

Another chemotion she felt: oscillations between droning fear on the one pincer and waxy determination on the other pincer. All this with an undertone vibration of vigilance along her ventral chitin. Obsessed, she checked and double-checked with her colleagues to make sure everyone was not only literally in their proper place on board their interstellar vessel but also “on board” with their role in the complex and well-planned Protocol of Peace. 

Sure enough, the TruthStone was polished and in place. The roles and responsibilities were crystal clear in the brains of the crew. They rehearsed and re-rehearsed the pictorial, narrative, and mathematical persuasions that would forever make war on earth literally unthinkable. There had not been much else to do during those hundreds of earth years the Arcturian spacecraft sped toward the third planet circling the small green star earthlings called “The Sun.” 

The xeno-psychologists had studied and re-studied primate psychology. Their on-board AI systems double-checked the pattern-growths and plasmic gambloids. Clear predictions emerged. Intervention was both necessary and would prove successful. After all, not only humans, but all the primates possessed the ability to solve simple logic puzzles. When presented with simple alternatives such as: “To be or not to be” most primates chose “To be.”

Among the many brilliant design innovations for the mercy mission to earth was the exterior design of the spaceship itself which greatly resembled a honeybee. Studies of earth’s ecosystems revealed that all of humanity depended on honeybees in order to feed earth’s blossoming population. This would ensure that none of the great apes would unwittingly destroy their ship. 

Completely unaware that an inter-galactic star ship sped toward their negotiating table, David Ibbar, Jamal Mami, and Epop Het, glared at each other. Each successive “communication” cycle resulted in increasing resentment and dislike. Not only did the three great apes become more and more frustrated with each other; they also became more frustrated with themselves because they couldn’t make an inch of progress. 

David ground his teeth so hard, the enamel was about to chip. Jamal gripped his hands so tightly around the arms of his chair, that two metacarpals were in danger of snapping. Epop Het bit his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. These injuries, of course, were trivial indeed compared with the destruction that could be caused by what each side was now threatening: an all-out thermo-nuclear war. 

The Arcturian ship flew in through a thin slit under the front door of the mansion where the hostile parties talked of preventing war. The Arcturians in general, and this crew in particular, had little interest per se in whether or not the great apes destroyed themselves. The problem for the Arcturians was that over the centuries, it became increasingly clear that the great apes would not only destroy themselves but the monstrous perversions of their mating rituals would also destroy a number of truly magnificent species including all the Cetaceans, Anisopteras, and Cryptodira. 

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

Ptera-1-Hym checked the scanners and announced to her crew: “We’re here in the nick of time! Prepare the Truthstone!” Moments later, the Arcturian ship skidded to a stop atop the negotiating table in clear sight of the three human “Ambassadors of Peace.” Epop-Het noticed the annoying intrusion first, and picked up a nearby copy of what he considered to be The One True Holy Book. Jamal and David noticed the sudden gesture, and, not to be outdone, even in so small a matter as swatting an insect, grabbed their own Holy Books. Their younger hands compensated for their slower wits and all three Holy Books came crashing down together on the Arcturian ship, smashing it to smithereens. 

Ptera-1-Hym and all her crew mates died instantly. The blow pulverized the centuries old Truthstone. One of the smithereens, a particularly jagged shard of adamantine hypermetal, flew into the eyeball of Epop-Het. Unsure which of his two antagonists had attacked, he, or more accurately, his chemotions, ordered an all-out attack on both their kingdoms.

The mathematical projections of the Arcturians proved correct. The heat and radiation of the thermonuclear blasts destroyed all the Cetaceans, Anisopteras, and Cryptodira within days. A few of the great naked apes survived in their underground bunkers for months. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And wished they hadn’t. Their only remaining “pleasure”? 

To blame each other for their preventable and common fate.


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares: short stories about AI

Tales from an American Childhood – recounts early experiences and relates them to contemporary issues

Fit in Bits suggests ways to inject more fitness into daily activities

The Winning Weekend Warrior treats the Psychology of Sports

The Walkabout Diaries: Natural Variations

20 Wednesday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in design rationale, nature, science

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Democracy, flowers, life, nature, photography, plants, trees, truth, Walkabout Diaries

Weather in San Diego is typically nice almost every day. Today is no exception, but that doesn’t mean that the weather is boring. There is a lot of natural variation. There is variation in the humidity, in the wind, in the position of the sun, in the heat, in the (fairly rare) precipitation.

Reflecting on this reminded me of another kind of natural variation: the variation in organisms of the same species. Without that variation, evolution would be far less effective.

It also reminds me of several of the characteristics of natural beauty and good design that Christopher Alexander writes about.

Things that have zero variation are mechanical, predictable, repetitive, and generally not very pleasing aesthetically. Mindless, endless repetition is aligned with death. Variation is aligned with life, freedom, creativity, growth, and joy.

Among things that are non-living artifacts, there is still a variation in how variable they are. Walls made of stone, are by their nature, “rougher” and more variable (and more beautiful) than walls made of bricks. Walls made of bricks are more irregular and beautiful than one made of solid steel. Similarly, at least to me, fences made of wood are more variable and beautiful than fences made of metal.

Building elements that make up a wooden deck show grain and irregularities in the surface of the deck. In addition, however, they even have interesting variability below the deck as shown here.

You can also see in this photo below a variety of materials. The stucco, by its very nature, more interesting and variable than steel or plaster.

In these photos, you can see variation within leaves, among the leaves of a particular plant, and also among the plants themselves. Each plant and each part of the plant grows in accordance to its genetic blueprint. Except a “blueprint” is itself too fixed and unbending to be an appropriate metaphor. The growth will depend on the context–water sources, light sources, nutrients in the soil, other nearby plants and rocks will all play a part in how, precisely, a particular plant grows.

It would be absurd for one plant to say to itself: “Every plant should be just like me! I have a plan based on what works for me and everyone should do exactly what I do!”

Fifteen Properties of Beauty

Absolute is not just a vodka

Life is a dance

The Orange Man

Three Blind Mice

The Walkabout Diaries, symphony

The Walkabout Diaries, how beautiful

The Walkabout Diaries the life of the party

Author Page on Amazon

All We Stand to Lose

13 Wednesday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics

≈ 62 Comments

Tags

Democracy, fascism, history, holocaust, poetry, politics, truth, USA, world-war-ii

Before we bought a new dishwasher, a new deodorant, or a new doodad, most of us would want to read some opinions from others about the dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads we were interested in. We would want to talk to some folks who had first hand experience with those dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads. 

That makes sense. 

We certainly wouldn’t buy a new dishwasher, deodorant, or doodad simply because the sales person said it was going to be great. Would we?

Democracy is a difficult and time-consuming deal. It’s frustrating. And, it is likely the worst form of government there is—except for all the others. 

So, before we throw it out with the dishwater because someone tells us how great a dictatorship would be instead, it makes sense to see what has happened with some of the other dictatorships that went before. 

There was Mussolini. It’s said that he made the trains run on time. But would we ever really know? No, because the one thing dictatorships always have in common is that they refuse to allow others to measure, comment, or critique on what’s actually happening. Free press? Gone. Independent monitoring agencies? Gone. 

The complaint department in a democracy may not always seem to listen to your particular concern. The complaint department in a dictatorship sends you to prison. If you’re lucky. 

How did Italy fare under Mussolini? According to the online Britannica, nearly a half million Italian civilians and soldiers died. And in return? Nada. How about Mussolini? Oh, yeah, that’s right—beaten to death by an angry mob. 

Well, we can’t make a sound conclusion based on just one customer’s experience, right? 

How about Hitler? After all, he promised to make Germany great and said his Reich would last a thousand years! That must have been a pretty cool outcome. Hitler, was famously responsible for about 6 million deaths in the Holocaust, but he was also responsible for needless deaths of German soldiers, the people who died at the hands of German soldiers, and many German and other civilians. And, how did that end for Hitler? Oh, yeah, that’s right. He committed suicide rather than face the defeat of his own making. 

Stalin? Surely, Stalin did better. Right? Well…in a word…no. It’s complicated. Stalin was responsible for Russian deaths by war, criminal execution, starvation due to inept government, and neglect. Here’s a link if you’d like to try to disentangle it. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excess_mortality_in_the_Soviet_Union_under_Joseph_Stalin

Then, there was Mao. He is generally credited with the death of about 40-80 million of his own countrymen. As is often the case with totalitarian dictatorships, it’s hard to know how many died of starvation due to ineptitude and how many died of intentional cruelty. 

—————

Once upon a time, there was a bratty kid who wasn’t very good at tennis. And, because he wasn’t very good, he cheated. And because he wasn’t even a very smart cheater, he got caught. And because he didn’t like getting caught, he destroyed all the factories that made tennis balls and told everyone else that he had done it for them. And he promised everyone that it was just a cool thing and he would make tennis much, much better because he replaced all the tennis balls with ping pong balls and that they should therefore put him in charge of officiating all tennis matches. 

And, he picked the winners and losers of every game. Those people who said he was amazing and wonderful and the best tennis player ever were allowed to win. And those people who said that was nonsense were allowed to lose. Some were arrested and said to have committed suicide. 

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

—————-

And when the people blinked their eyes,

They found there wasn’t any prize. 

Their faith in lies had no reward.

Those they loved were put to sword.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Two century’s worth of progress died. 

The nation humbled once had pride. 

A sales switch and fever pitch.

Soon love was kicked into a ditch. 

Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

The greed for power trumped it all.

There were no eyes upon the ball. 

A million lies but no-one cared.

A million dead since no-one dared. 

Photo by judit agusti aranda on Pexels.com

Author Page on Amazon

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-Taters

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Dance of Billions

A “Strong Man”

11 Monday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, encouragement, faith, politics, strong, USA

I think that one of the worst sins of the media is to call dictators, “Strong men” or Strong women.” They are anything but.

Photo by Pikx By Panther on Pexels.com

A strong person is not afraid to treat others as equals.

A strong person is not afraid to put their ideas up for discussion or vote.

A strong person is not afraid to enter into a contest even though they might lose.

The strong admit to mistakes and learn from them.

The strong do not rely on having their egos stoked by those they have power over.

The strong surround themselves by those with diverse opinions and the courageous.

The strong lead by appealing to the best in others.

The strong are not afraid of love.

The strong show gratitude and humility.

The weak think they must be treated as special and above the law.

The weak demand everyone accept their ideas without debate.

The weak refuse to admit they were wrong and refuse to learn from their mistakes.

Photo by Julissa Helmuth on Pexels.com

The weak surround themselves with cowardly sycophants.

The weak appeal to the fear, hate, and cruelty of their fans.

The weak show others contempt.

Choose wisely.

————

Absolute is not just a vodka.

Dick-Taters

The Crows and Me

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

Author page on Amazon

About Writing

10 Sunday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, fiction, pets, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

creativity, dog, fiction, novel, pets, writing

Hello!

I am alive and well. I haven’t blogged for a while. Here’s why: I’ve been taking a year-long course on novel writing. Yesterday, I sent off my book to the instructor for feedback. To me, writing a full-length novel has been more difficult than writing a Ph.D. dissertation. Writing non-fiction requires research, discipline, organization, and being willing to work hard.

Writing a novel requires all of those but it also requires keeping track of the implications of many little decisions. It is not only a cognitive strain but often an emotional one as well. It’s a never-ending series of choices. Science is often, but not always, a series of choices where there is an agreed upon better answer. Even when there isn’t agreement, there are a much smaller number of choices.

To me, writing non-fiction is like taking a long trip on existing roads. You may certainly face unanticipated difficulties such as construction zones, flat tires and bad weather.

Writing fiction is more like bushwhacking. No-one has ever trod (or will ever trod) your exact path. You may learn something by discovering or following the paths of previous writers. You might, for instance, discover that some writers go over logs that lie across their intended path. Others, may crawl under. Still others might go around the fallen log. Others might choose to back-track until another path is found. What should you do?

It depends.

And, that’s the nature of fiction. It all depends. It depends on what else happens in the book. How you choose to construct and describe one character depends on the others. Even what you name them depends on the other names. What happens in character development interacts with the plot. The plot interacts with the landscape and the mood. The mood depends on the tempo. The tempo, if it’s dialog must be consistent with the character who’s doing the talking.

Our dog Sadie and I have been co-creating and co-evolving games from the days she first came to live with us. Currently, we are playing a variant of “fetch.” Here’s how it works. One of us (most often Sadie) finds a squeaky ball. At some point, I get a squeaky ball from somewhere in the garden and say, “Get up on the deck! I’m going to throw the ball on the deck.”



Now matter where she is when she hears that, she sprints to the deck and awaits my throw. She sprints with spirit! I love to watch her run, not only for her grace and speed but even more so, for the whole-heartedness with which she runs every single time. I throw the ball up and she catches it in the air more than half the time. Even when she misses, she’ll scramble after it and proudly perch on the spot on the deck where I can see that she’s caught the ball. After elaborate and genuine praise, she sprints down the stairs to the lawn near me. Then, she will lie down with the squeaky ball in her mouth. After a time, she’ll move the ball away from her some distance. I walk over casually, as though I am not trying to “steal” the ball from her. When I get close to the ball, she quickly re-grabs it. After she’s had a few “successes” she will start hanging out farther and farther away from the ball. At some point, I’ll grab the ball and announce, “I’ve got it!” At that point, she again sprints up the stairs to go the deck where I will throw the ball up to her.

The part of this scenario that I think is most like writing the fiction is the part where Sadie is judging how far away the ball should be from her buzz-fast jaws. If it’s too close, I won’t even try for it. If it’s too far away, I’ll immediately grab the ball. Similarly, as an author, I want to keep the reader interested. If my writing is too predictable, it might be clear, but it will be uninspiring and dull. The reader will quit before they get to the end of the story. On the other hand, if I write too far from the reader’s expectations, they will quit because they cannot grab the threads of the narrative.

To me, the benefits of co-creating with Sadie (rather than “training her” to play the game in a particular and predetermined way) include that I can learn a lot by observing her. Another benefit is that it keeps both of our minds more flexible and more engaged (just as does good literature). Of course, there are two of us in this exercise and that is also true in the reading of fiction. Every author, including me, will make miscalculations about how far to stray from expectations. But whether you can follow across those miscalculations is not only a measure of my skill as a writer but is also a measure of your skill as a reader.

In the past, I’ve self-published my books on Amazon. These are mostly non-fiction, but one of them is a collection of fictional short stories. This time, I think I will try traditional agent/publishing. I am also thinking of putting together several more books, using the blog posts here as the seeds.

After a year long writing course, the single most important piece of advice I can give is:

“Get a dog.”



Don’t get me wrong. We have six cats and we love them dearly. The cats are smart, and I can certainly empathize with the cats. But their ability to empathize with me is either very limited or, as I suspect is more likely, they really don’t give a damn. On the other hand, Sadie is a pleasure to co-create with because she intuitively “gets” cooperation and collaboration. We accommodate each other and neither of us has any idea how the game will evolve.

By the way, I would feel I would be remiss not to share my secret of Holiday Gift shopping. There are literally millions of possible gifts! It makes choosing nearly impossible. Instead of putting yourself through that agony, simply go to my author page on Amazon and choose which book is most appropriate for which gift recipient. It’s fast, it’s easy, and you’ll have the thanks of at least on person which cannot be said for any other gift idea. And, in many cases, you’ll have two grateful people.

Author page on Amazon

Autobiography and Essays

Scenarios about AI

How to work more fun and exercise into daily chores

Sports Psychology

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