Filed under: Alzheimer's, Bipolar, Book Conservation, Failure, Marketing, Publishing
I mentioned a week ago that I felt “flat”. I still do.
On our walk this morning I was thinking about it, after mentioning to my Good Lady Wife that I felt about ‘half a bubble off’ and that I just didn’t ‘fit into my skin right’ that this is likely just my normal lowpoint in my bipolar cycle. The timing is right, the feeling is right. I hadn’t really noticed it because I had been working so hard to stay focused on getting Her Final Year ready for publication, with all the creative energy that generated.
Work that meant I got very little other, paying, work done, I should add. Meaning that I’m feeling more than a little financial pressure to boot, of the ‘short-term-cash-flow’ variety. That we’ve sold a grand total of 9 books so far isn’t helping my frame of mind – making me more than a little nervous that this is all going to turn out to be one more of my brilliant ideas which is a complete fiasco.
Like I said – hitting or heading towards the lowpoint in my bipolar cycle. Charming, isn’t it?
Ah, well. I know how to walk through this. Focus on the things I *can* do. Conservation work. Marketing the book by writing about it in the proper venues. Water my garden. Put one foot in front of the other. Try and stay healthy, and hope for the best.
We’ll see what happens.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Ballistics, Book Conservation, Gardening, Guns, Publishing, Science Fiction
Sorry I haven’t been posting much. It’s been a long and busy week. Had bookbinding and gardening stuff to do, as well as getting a couple of things written and sent to guns.com. But the most important and time-consuming task has been working on Her Final Year. As I noted on my Facebook page:
97,982. That’s how many words are in the main care-giving book. And it’s now closely edited and all formatted. Whew.
The last couple of chapters are especially emotional and hard to read, even now three and a half years later. But it’s done.
And now I need to wrap up another article (this is a fun one, on guns in Science Fiction) and then get on the road for another weekend of BBTI testing.
Jim Downey
My wife and I have been doing some work for a friend who has put together a miscellany – a collection of texts and images which he finds worthy, and which all inter-relate in some interesting ways. It’s been a fun project, working to design the layout and format of the final book, doing editing and so forth. It’s been a project which has been some months in the making.
Just now I finished running through a printer’s proof, showing how all the pages go together in the proper sequence so the thing can be properly sewn in sections, then bound – work I will take joy in doing. This is a fairly straight-forward matter, but you do have to check it, page by page and section by section, to make sure it was done correctly. It was, and now the proof is back off to the printer.
And it was wonderful to hold that proto-book in my hands. Wonderful, and a little wistful.
Wonderful, because while most of the actual work has been done already, it just didn’t seem entirely “real” until I had those pages in my hands, was able to flip through them, handle the physical artifact. It’s another example of turning a dream into a reality.
Wistful, because of the frustrating delays in getting my novel to the same point. And something of the sense that the caregiving book will not seem entirely real when it is just in an electronic format. I’m a bookbinder, used to handling books as artifacts, some of them centuries old, so I suppose it goes with the territory. A bias in my reality.
Jim Downey
It’s been a while since I posted any photos of my book conservation work. So I thought I’d take some snaps of this 1668 legal text I was rebinding in full Moroccan goatskin.
Here’s the first image, of the front of the skin. It’s been mounted to the boards and a spine liner, then shaped to fit over the raised bands on which the text block is sewn:
The second image is on the inside, showing the position of the boards and spine liner, with the overhang of leather which will be turned-in to finish the edge:
The third image shows a detail of that turned-in leather strip. It’s hard to tell, but the very edge of the leather had been pared down so that it would create a bevel to finish nicely:
The next image is another detail, showing one way to make a finished corner. I like this method, because it finishes off clean yet still gives additional protection. The little tab wraps around the corner of the board, then the two flaps come around the edge:
Then there’s an image of the cover with heavy cords wrapped around the re-dampened leather. This helps to shape the leather over the raised bands on the spine, since as the leather dries, it pulls tight and holds that shape:
The next image shows what the spine looks like once it has dried and the cords are removed:
Then a detail that shows what the spine looks like after simple blind tooling to accentuate the bands:
And lastly, a shot of the finished book, after gold-stamped labels have been mounted:
Not bad, eh? I’m pretty happy with the finished product. And I am glad to be done with this – it was part of a project I started last summer before becoming so ill with the pneumonia and all the related problems which have still plagued me since. Because of these health problems, I lost 50% of my income . . . and spent fully a third of the remainder on medical bills. Wrapping up this project, and getting the books back to the client, is something of a turning point for me.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Book Conservation, Connections, General Musings, Politics, Science Fiction, Society, Writing stuff
A break in my conservation work this afternoon, as I wait for some wheatpaste to hydrate properly before cooking it. And I thought I would take a moment and explain just a bit why I posted the political item I did this morning.
The basic answer is that I’m just . . . eclectic . . . in my interests. That’s a big part of the reason why I tend to write about so many seemingly unrelated things. Part of that is due to my political inclinations – independent, untrusting of dogma, skeptical of authority.
But specifically, the post this morning is related to the thinking/planning/research I am doing for the prequel to Communion of Dreams. Because that book is concerned with what a world where fear has won looks like – where we *have* given over (almost) all our civil liberties in an attempt to secure safety. That’s not all the book is about, of course, but it does form a big part of the context for the story.
To be a novelist – even “just” a science fiction novelist – is to be a generalist. In order to construct a convincing reality different from our own, you have to be able to look deeply into how and why reality works, and understand how what choices you make as an author change the reality you construct. A conventional novelist can just describe our current reality, and be convincing – the reader will fill in the details on their own, and map their own understanding of reality onto the story the author wants to tell. Someone writing about a different reality – whether it is from the past or the future, adjacent to our world or far from it – has to get the “how” of that reality right, and do so without killing the story with too much exposition.
Anyway. Just a small insight into why I blog about the things I do. Now the wheatpaste is ready for cooking, and I must get back to work.
Jim Downey
“Heh. Well, I suppose that’s one way to do it.”
I smiled at my wife, dipped an index finger carefully to just barely make contact with the surface of the paint. It was cool, thick and creamy. “Well, you know.”
She laughed, left me to my work and went back to hers.
I smeared the paint on the small patch that needed repairing – just behind the silver handle on one of the cabinets in the bathroom. It took two more dips to get sufficient paint applied.
Why do this? Why not just get a small brush and do the minor touch up that needed doing? We’re supposed to be tool-using monkeys, right?
Partly, it’s laziness. This way I didn’t have to clean a paint brush. But more, it’s just for the tactile joy – being able to feel that wonderful slick quality of paint against the wood. I think in many ways we are too divorced from our world – distanced by a computer screen, a barrier of our own making, living inside a post-modern bubble, safe in our ironic detachment. Wii games allow us to ski without getting cold or wet. It’s safer, but somehow less . . . real.
And this is what I do. Dip a finger in pigment or adhesive, work it into the damaged cover of a book. That way I can feel the texture of the leather or cloth, work the material to match in terms of color or surface. Tapping the wet paint creates a stippling pattern that’s a perfect match to the effect of a paint roller. Try doing that with a small brush.
I finished in the bathroom, closed up the gallon of paint. A bit of solvent and a paper towel cleaned the residual off of my fingers.
When it dries, the minor repairs will be almost invisible. But I’ll know they’re there. I have touched them.
And been touched by them.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Book Conservation, Publishing, Science Fiction, Writing stuff
This morning, after our walk, I took some time and replenished the firewood ric on our front porch. It hadn’t gotten down too far, but with the possibility of significant winter weather ugliness later this week, I thought it a good time to top it off. When done, I paused a moment and looked at the supply, felt comforted.
* * * * * * *
I’ve always been an information junkie. I blame it on wanting to be a mentat when I was a kid.
And the way you control a mentat? Control the information he gets.
I hate being controlled.
* * * * * * *
It had been eight weeks.
Eight weeks since I had last heard from my editor. We had been nearing the close of contract discussions, most everything sorted out just fine. There were only a couple of points we needed to settle.
Then . . . nothing.
I knew he had his hands full with a bunch of other stuff. More tech being developed. At least one more book scheduled to be out before mine. This, that, and the other.
So it was just likely that he got busy.
But . . . nothing.
After a couple of weeks, I dropped him an email.
Still . . . nothing.
I figured it was no big deal, he’d get back to me when ready. A couple more weeks passed, and I sent another email.
Again . . . nothing.
But that was right before Thanksgiving. I figured after the holiday he’d write.
Yet . . . nothing.
* * * * * * *
Finances have been tight. Nothing horrid, but tight. Because of the downturn in the economy, my conservation work from private clients this year has been way down. And since I lost a large institutional client last year, I didn’t have that work. Still, I’ve had work enough to keep me busy, the cash flow positive.
Except when my other institutional clients screw up the way that bureaucracies do with annoying regularity.
Such as has happened with MU recently. They have managed to lose/misplace/futz around with invoices such that I haven’t been paid for work done for about two months now.
And of course, trying to get an answer about what is going on from the Business Office is just an exercise in frustration.
I’ve danced this dance with them many times before. I know they’ll come through in the end, but they’ll take their own sweet time about it.
In the meantime we manage with savings. We’re lucky in that regard, and I know it – a lot of people right now can’t do the same.
* * * * * * *
This morning I sent another email to my publisher, asking whether they had reconsidered whether to publish Communion of Dreams, or what.
See, the lack of response . . . the lack of information about what was going on . . . was starting to drive me nuts.
I can deal with pretty much anything. At least, that’s been my track record to date, and I’ve had enough tough things to deal with to trust that ability. That is, I can deal with pretty much anything so long as I know what the hell is going on.
Because if I don’t know, I tend to imagine the worst. And I have a very active imagination.
In fairness, I’ve had enough tough things to deal with that this somewhat pessimistic inclination has been borne out repeatedly. So I’m not just neurotic.
Anyway, I got a response right back with an apology. Everything is cool, he’s just been insanely busy with the various projects I’d mentioned (and then some), and things had just slipped past more quickly than he intended. Looks like the book will now be out in February – though it won’t surprise me if that gets pushed back a bit.
And that’s fine. ‘Cause now I know what is going on.
* * * * * * *
I stood there for a moment, looking at the stack of firewood on the porch. A good supply, easily enough for a couple of weeks of casual use, even if the weather gets ugly. And there’s more in the big stash elsewhere in the yard.
I don’t know what will happen later this week. Will we just get some snow for Christmas? Or will dire predictions of sleet and freezing rain translate into reality?
We’ll see. Because even though I don’t know what will happen, I know I’m ready for it. Well, as ready as you can be for anything.
Jim Downey
So, in spite of the fears of some of my friends, I made it to Chicago and back.
Er, what’s that? Fears?
As I’ve mentioned recently, I’ve had some ongoing issues related to the pneumonia that had me so sick through all of August. Well, this past Tuesday I saw my doc, who poked and prodded, listened and queried. Then she told me she wanted me to get a CAT scan, since it would show more of what was going on than did the normal X-Ray I’d had the beginning of September. It was possible I had some leftover pneumonia, or a pocket of pleurisy, or possibly even a partial collapsed lung. I told her I would have to schedule the scan for Friday, since I was going to be gone the next two days.
“Where to?”
“Quick trip to Chicago.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure.”
“Well, enjoy it.”
Note – she did not tell me not to go. She did not tell me to change my plans because I was gonna die if I did such an insanely dangerous thing as drive to Chicago. She told me to enjoy the trip. Because I have been fighting whatever it is that I have going on for two months, and it is unlikely that just driving anywhere would be any worse for me than anything else I’ve done.
* * * * * * *
What pleasure so tempted me in Chicago?
Art. And an old friend.
Norma Rubovits, who studied under the same bookbinding mentor that I did (but 20 years earlier), was having a show of her bindings and her incredible marbled papers at the Newberry Library.
I first heard from Norma almost 20 years ago, when I was starting to make a name for myself with my own paper marbling. She dropped me a note, said that she heard I was making marbled paper vignettes. She said she wanted to buy some of my marbling – would I send her a selection, along with an invoice. At first I didn’t have a clue who this woman was, and I didn’t know whether to take her seriously. But after a few inquiries, I had some idea – and I sent her some of my work.
It was the start of a solid friendship. As I got to know her, I also came to understand what an incredible artist she was, working in both bookbinding and marbled paper. On one of my first trips to visit her, I got to see some of her work. She could do things in fine binding that I can still only dream of. And her marbled papers made me almost embarrassed to call myself a marbler.
See for yourself:
(More images of Norma’s show here.)
What that shows are twin marbled vignettes – two small, highly concentrated marbled ‘paintings’ called ebru. This sort of work was a specialty of Norma’s. That example is particularly fine because the two pieces had to be done quickly before the pigment would start to break down on the surface of the marbling tank – you can see this already starting to happen if you look closely at the lower image, where the center part is starting to develop small imperfections as the color bubble and concentrates. Altogether, she just had a matter of several minutes to place the multiple layers of pigment, then manipulate it into the form she wanted, then to transfer that to the paper. When I was really ‘in the zone’ while marbling, I could manage this feat with one image but I never even tried to do a pair like that.
* * * * * * *
We met Norma at the entrance to the Newberry. She graciously introduced us to her companion, a woman who serves as her care-giving assistant. Norma’s still getting around fine, and is as sharp mentally as anyone. But she is 92, and her balance isn’t what it used to be.
She escorted us into the exhibit, fussed to make sure we found the magnifying glasses you need to appreciate her most detailed work, and then had a seat to the side, popping up to point out specific works and tell us each one’s history. That we knew about the binding techniques involved, and most of the people in her stories, just added richness and encouraged her to go into greater detail than she would with the general public.
After, it was a nice long and relaxing lunch at Russian Tea Time – her favorite place to take company. Be sure to have the borscht.
* * * * * * *
My doc looked at me: “Where to?”
“Quick trip to Chicago.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure.”
“Well, enjoy it.”
“Thanks. Art exhibit of the work of an old friend. She’s 92 – and while she’s still doing quite well, you never know.”
My doctor nodded, and handed me the Rx for more painkillers, which I knew I would need to get me through the trip, at least overnight so I could maybe sleep.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 