Untitled Post

A couple of notes resulting from two recent posts over at Reflections in d minor:

:: Lynn gives several choice quotes from Sir Thomas Beecham, one of the finest orchestra conductors to ever come out of England. Beecham was one of those erudite wits who seem to breed like rabbits in England. I first read about Beecham in Harold Schonberg’s book The Great Conductors (now out of print, I believe), and two of the Beecham quotes related by Schonberg have stayed with me years after reading that book.

To a trombone player Beecham suspected of lackadaisical effort: “Are you certain that you are producing as much sound as is possible from that piece of antiquated plumbing which you are applying to your face?”

And to a tenor while rehearsing an operatic love-making scene: “Observing your grave, deliberate motions, I am reminded of that quintessential quadruped, the hedgehog.”

:: Lynn also points to an article denoting the stages of classical music collecting. These stages really do exist – – I’ve had to explain to other people just why I own five different recordings of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique, for example – – and it certainly is true that after you spend a number of years exploring music far and wide, you do return to the Beethoven symphonies or the Bach Masses or the Mozart concertos or the Strauss tone poems and recognize them anew for the works of genius they are.

What differentiates some collectors, in my view, is how willing they are to roam afield. Some classical collectors will pretty much stick to the Germanic symphonic tradition, and restrict their “roaming afield” to lesser works by the greats in that one tradition. Others will take in more – – adding the Russian Nationalist tradition, or the English tradition, or French Impressionism, or twentieth century serialism, and so on. Still others will divulge even farther afield, taking in film music as well, and trying to come to grips with that genre’s peculiar set of demands and constraints. Or you can note the rise of nationalism in classical music, and delve therefore into the folk and native traditions on which the nationalist schools are based, thus coming to study Celtic and world music. And then one can leave Western cultures entirely, and take in the fascinating world of Asian classical music as well. Or one can move forward instead of backward, and see how Celtic music has influenced American folk music, and then country and rock in turn.

Many collectors tend to be insular, deciding that once they’ve reached a certain point, they’re happy to set up their boundaries and stay within them, achieving a depth of familiarity with a relatively small number of works. Others take a much wider approach, preferring to know a smattering about a wide variety of music. Both approaches work, and it’s a shame that often members of each camp will look down on the other.

Share This Post

Untitled Post

Out of Lascaux should be back to normal posting, I assume, now that Alexandra’s done with her math test. But reading her update, just the phrase “Factoring of polynomials” is enough to send me into shivers. My high school algebra teacher was a nice guy, and he really was a pretty good teacher. But he had one odd failing that manifested when I choked on polynomials at the outset: he assumed that my sudden tanking on a couple of tests meant that I wasn’t doing the homework, and proceeded to impose a daily checking of my homework under threat of detention if it wasn’t done. I had been doing it, but for me, polynomials were one of those things that upon first encounter is rather like Roy Neary’s first encounter with the alien spaceship in Close Encounters, without the sunburn on the right side of my face. It was his personal attention and help with the subject that got me up to speed (and once I got there, I was fine), not his Draconian “You’re a slacker!” bit.

I’m not sure I had a point here, but there it is. I report, you decide, if you haven’t nodded off first.

Share This Post

Untitled Post





Bob Hope was never much on my radar screen, for some reason. I haven’t seen any of his movies (strange, since my parents have always loved Bing Crosby), and when he was on TV with regular specials, he never made much of an impression on me. But still, it’s sad to see him go.

(I learned of Hope’s passing on The Today Show this morning, when the guy who did the news headlines — not Matt Lauer or Al Roker, but some other guy who’s been on NBC for a while but whose name I can never recall — suddenly said, “We’re just learning that Bob Hope is dead. We’ll have details later on.” Cut to commercial. I don’t know — I understand why they did it this way, but it just seems a tad heartless, you know?)

Share This Post

Untitled Post

In an addendum to my post below about the Gene Wolfe fracas, a LiveJournal user named Natalia Lincoln who was apparently there posts her version of what happened, along with a follow-up. What I found interesting was a collection of “rules” or “guidelines” for writing that are apparently from Mr. Wolfe, and I’m stealing them for use here:

1. Live. Have life experiences. Ride horses. Fly planes. Travel.

2. Learn to read. How does the other writer do it? Play with their idea: switch POVs or settings around. Evaluate it: did the writer fail/succeed?

3. Read the markets you’re submitting to.

4. Learn to write (Strunk, Transitive Vampire, etc.)

5. Don’t worry about what the reader will think of you personally, worry about making yourself perfectly clear.

6. Don’t write sentences like ad copy.

7. Read the type of material you mean to write, for a wide range of ages, levels of seriousness, audiences, classics.

8. Don’t read endless series.

9. Find a quiet place to write.

10. Writing time: aim at writing at least one hour a day. What will you give up to get this? Sleep? Social time? TV? For 28 years, Wolfe held down a day job, mechanical engineer, and still wrote.

11. Come to grips with the fact that you’re not going to be able to write at the same time & place all the time. Adjust and keep going. Writing on a train is great.

12. You will need a computer/typewriter, dictionary and a wastebasket, and printing and mailing supplies.

13. When you correct galleys, use a colored pen, not black.

14. Write your ideas down as they occur to you. Make notes more detailed than you think you need to be.

15. Initial situations are easy. You don’t have a story until you have an ending. Furthermore, you don’t have a story until you write it.

16. No amount of planning, world-building, etc. constitutes a story. Don’t spend more than an hour researching/planning a short story, or a day on a book, before you begin. Only by writing do you find out what you need.

17. Don’t mirror your outline or your research. You made it, or found it, you can change it.

18. Writers’ groups can be good or bad depending on who’s in the group. Creative writing classes are the same, only they cost more. Find out who the teacher is; that’s important.

19. Writer’s Digest is for people who haven’t published a word. Science Fiction and Fantasy Workshop online is better. Kathleen Woodbury, editor.

20. Network. Odyssey is good. Get to know the local bookstores, and who works in them. Go to cons (esp. World Fantasy Con, in DC this year). WorldCon used to be good, but it’s so big now it’s hard to find the right people. You can find valuable friends at these cons.

21. Get to know the fans, but esp. get to know the editors, agents, writers. Sit up front and ask questions. To get into the green room, ask if you can help.

22. Collect all the best writing advice you’ve ever gotten.

23. Prepare to be able to teach. Study until you know it backwards, forwards, and upside-down.

24. It’s easy for you as the writer/teacher to tell people how to write. What’s hard is getting them to believe you.

25. Know the rules, and if you must break them, have a good reason to.

26. Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line. (OK, I added that one myself.)

I don’t know if Mr. Wolfe actually outlined these rules in precisely this form, or if this is just Miss Lincoln’s distillation of lecture notes. But they’re still pretty interesting.

Share This Post

Untitled Post

Hmmm….it occurs to me that part of my current anxiety may stem not just from my increasing frustration with matters economic, but from the more prosaic fact that I haven’t been listening to much music lately.

A lot of my recent writing efforts have taken place not at my regular desk (where I was doing my rough-drafts in longhand, and where I have a nine-year-old Sony Discman that’s still going strong), but at the computer, where I don’t have a Discman. But the computer does do MP3s…and I did buy, some months ago, an extension cord that would make it easier for me to plug headphones into the computer.

Anyway, right now I have John Barry’s score to The Lion In Winter playing on the big stereo while I edit an old essay, and I’m just happy as a rat in liverwurst (to pinch a metaphor from Stephen King).

Share This Post

ForgottenStars.net

The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

Skip to content ↓