i'm still researching and writing my story. at the moment, i'm at 822 words. looks like i'll have to alter the beginning quite a bit though, cause there's more to the case than i had known and remembered. i'm a bit nervous about this whole thing, as there's a true story behind it and i really want it to turn out good.
(picture taken from cicero.)surprise, surprise: i've started a third story for the walter serner preis. this time, though, i'll stick with it. i have a pretty clear idea of where i'm going and still enough time to make an effort to write it well. i've written 233 words in one go now, little more than half a page, which is always a good sign. i'll go out for lunch soon, which is fine, too, because the ways to and from give me time to develop my text in more detail.
plus: the super funny snoopy looks i get from people when taking notes in public.
today i sent three poems of mine to gaby blattl, the person in charge of accepting entries for the othmar seidner jungautoren competition. i chose strassenschlachten, zum 1. august and tausendundeine, primarily because there was nothing much else to come into question. this competition included, i'm currently waiting for six selection committees to make their final decisions. wish me luck, please.
und ich stricke zwei sterne
die du dir annähen kannst
an die hand kleine perlen
ich backe dir dieses und jenes
tamtam in der ferne ich fädel
dir singsang ins ohr hier ein
pilgerfährtchen und dort eine
alte bekannte vielleicht auch
ein foto vom ort wo du wohnst
ein hallo nur ein schimmer
zum gruss nur ein halber halo.
[jesusnight// and i knit two stars/ for you to attach to/ your hand small pearls/ i bake you this and that/ ballyhoo in the distance i thread/ singsong into your ear here a/ small pilgrimage and there an/ old friend perhaps a/ picture from where you live/ a hello just a clue or a glimmer/ to salute just half a halo.]
i spent my afternoon grating carrots while watching how to lose a guy in ten days. my friends hate me for liking this movie, but i just about die laughing every time i see it. so i'm guessing you figured i ain't writing much at the moment.
this picture doesn't have anything to with anything, i just found it very beautiful and therefore stole it from john mayer's blog. it's him and alicia keys, in case you didn't recognize them.
my writing is going so-so, i'm a little afraid i've become gridlocked and not sure yet whether i'll find a way out of my story. perhaps i'll have to start all over with a different one yet again.
last night i realized that my story for the walter serner preis is only due after i left berlin. technically i've known this all along, but now, when i write, it feels like i'm writing myself out of berlin... wicked!!!
i'm at 519 words at the moment, which make a little over one page, which is perfectly fine. just like the last couple of times i've started a new story - i just can't continue producing material i don't feel excited about. it's that feeling in your stomach that tells you 'this could really be something, keep going'... so the story i'm writing at the moment doesn't have anything to do with chemistry or our planetary system (not at this point at least), but instead with people and children, the usual stuff - stellar vaults just didn't seem to do it. haha.
(picture taken from postsecret.)okay, what everybody has been predicting has come true. that anthology i was protesting to be featured in will go to press these days, the publishers want to start selling it to ... people with a very bad taste in poetry, i'm afraid ... for a whopping price of 34,95€. the 150 authors they picked (from 1.460 entries, they say) are entitled to buy them at 24€ apiece, but i won't do so. also, dear kinsfolk, please do not give one to me as a birthday present or something, i really don't want it. however, should you still be interested in the winners of the competition or what a finished book could look like, click here. curiosity really is a bitch sometimes!
in immer verstreichelnder zeit
die verleitenden offen
hinfortsetzungenschlecken
die süßsee, tiefe
nurmalkostengründe
ein herz verwächselt mir
über den kronkopfen
im entscheidschungel
einflußlauf, zweiflüsterei.
sorry, no translation this time.
by now, the poem i was talking about below is revised. i won't publish it here, though, 'cause somehow that wouldn't feel right.
as to the writing competition on living in big cities, i haven't progressed. i still lack a decent idea, but try not to freak out about that just yet.
[...]
Da schieben die Türkinnen ihre Melonen
In meinen Text wickeln sich ihre Tücher
Alles ist fast wie immer, die Glocken der Kirche hier schlagen sich
Über die Strasse, die Alten spazieren, die Schafe
Und Wiesen um Edinburgh
[...]
[There the Turks hustle their melons
Their scarves wrap my text
Almost business as usual, the bells of the church strike
The street, where the elderly stroll, there the sheep
And the meadows round Edinburgh]
the whole text is considerably longer, and when i finished it this afternoon, i really liked it. in the meantime, though, i've read it a couple of times and am not too sure how to handle it anymore. generally, i believe, it's quite good, but there are some rhythmical problems i want to take care of tomorrow afternoon. i might call it N369, but i'm not quite sure yet.
es war ein heißer sommer/ dem ein kalter herbst/ nun folgen muss/ nimm/ was zur reife drängt/ ganz einfach hin/ und lass dem kühlen/ wasser seinen fluss
das einsamsein in einem/ leeren haus heißt wind/ der durch die ritzen/ pfeift/ und einsam ist auch/ wer nach briefen greift/ man kann aus blättern/ keine bäume schnitzen.
[ONLY VERY ROUGHLY, AS IT RHYMES IN GERMAN: it was a hot sommer/ that has to be followed/ by a cool fall/ just take/ what wants to ripe/ and let the river keep/ its water
loneliness in a/ void house is wind/ that soughs through chinks/ and lonely is/ who reaches for the letters/ yet out of folios/ you cannot carve a tree.]
ORF, the national austrian tv station, has a brief article on the fm4 shortlist, too. i'm very pleased with this snippet, as my story has been mentioned in an extra sentence:
Wir waren gerührt von der unsentimentalen Schilderung des langsamen Sterbens der Großmutter.
[We were touched by an unsentimental description of a grandmother's slow death.]
yibbbbiieeee!
after talking to zillions of people who know the business (okay, four) and some extra consideration, i've decided that a publication won't hurt. after all, you never know beforehand what other authors or work is going to be published alongside your own entry, and chances are no one will take notice of me being included in that anthology anyways... apart from all of you guys, of course. and who knows, perhaps it's going to be all neat and nice, right? *sigh*... thanks ken and su for your sympathy.
apparently, 'kossi' didn't win that competition with her poem, it was all some sort of misunderstanding (yeah, right!). but anyways, she has corrected her false assertion on her blog, so that's that.
Liebe Annina Luzie Schmid!
Ihren Umut können wir nachvollziehen und danken Ihnen für diesen Hinweis.
Die Behauptung von Frau K. besitzt keinen verifizierten Hintergrund
und ist wohl als Mißverständnis zu verstehen. Sie gehört nicht zu den
Preisträgern des Wettbewerbes!
Die Gewinner des Wettbewerbers werden erst am Montag benachrichtigt und
nach Rücklauf des Korrekturabzugs auf unserer Seite veröffentlicht.
Wie sind bemüht dieses Missverständnis schnellstmöglich aufzuklären.
Wir bedauern diese widrigen Umstände zutiefst und hoffen den Anstoss für
Ihre Entscheidung aufgeklärt zu haben. Bitte teilen Sie uns mit, ob Ihr
Wunsch auf Streichung Ihres Beitrages fortbesteht.
Herzliche Grüße!
Ihr Lichtstrahlverlag
it's weird, though, that the winners of a competition will be announced only AFTER the majority of authors has been contacted - usually, the winners are informed first.
either way, even though she didn't win, it looks like her poem has been chosen for publication, so i'm still not sure what to do with that... any ideas?
------ just now i've sent them this ------
Sehr geehrtes Lektorat,
nachdem ich erfahren habe, welches Gedicht Ihren Gedichtwettberb gewonnen hat, möchte ich hiermit gerne meinen Beitrag zurückziehen. Ich bin nicht damit einverstanden, in Ihrer Anthologie veröffentlicht zu werden.
Bitte entschuldigen Sie die Umstände, die Ihnen meine Teilnahme gemacht hat, und bestätigen Sie, dass Sie mein Gedicht von Ihrer Veröffentlichungsliste streichen werden.
Mit freundlichen Grüssen
Annina Luzie Schmid
------ and here's my poem ------
ich will dir zeigen ich
bin nachgewachsen
aus haut aus
mundstücken ich
bin silberfliege
ohne zwischenfall gelandet
auf der hand des
vielleicht letzten mannes
nach dir will zeigen
da sind lachfalten
aus haut aus
mundaufentzücken ich
bin windrad
alle farben tanzen in spiralen
an seiner hand ich
bin tretbootpedale
auf dem nachdirsee er
aus haut aus
hand lenkt um
dein schilf.
[i want to show you i/ have grown again/ of skin of/ mouthpieces i/ am a silver fly/ that perhaps/ has landed/ on the hand of the last man after/ you i want to show/ there are laugh lines/ of skin of/ mouthopendelight i/ am a wind wheel/ all colours dance in a spiral/ me and his hand i/ am a paddleboat pedal/ on the afteryou lake he/ of skin of/ hand steers round/ your reed.]
i've told you about this story i'm thinking about, right? its topic is "living in big cities" and although i've spent the better part of my life in big cities, i can't seem to think of anything remotely interesting. or, if i do, i feel i wouldn't enjoy writing about it. so while i know that most people i've been talking to do understand that i get slow phases in between writing periods, i'm afraid they aren't quite aware of the actual length of those times. or, how much i hate them. i mean, how would you explain to someone that, no, you're not actually working, and, no, you can't just make something up, because that's of no use. i hate writing things when there's no creative or artistic add of value. like harry said to sally: so you wanna become a journalist to write about other people's lives? ... NO, darn it!!!
i'm reading oriana fallaci's the rage and the pride (next will be: the force of reason), which is a truly wild book. you should read it, should you get a chance. she wrote it after 9/11 and in it talks about her perception of the muslim culture, cultural heritage in general and the dalai lama in a popeye t-shirt.
i write best in trains, streetcars and in my bed. capote liked to write in his bed, too, saying he was much more of a horizontal thinker than a vertical one. as for me, i'm still thinking about my next story, vertically AND horizontally, but can't quite settle. as usual, i've already written a page of stuff i'll probably dismiss again soon, but at least that keeps me occupied...
with my moving to england mid september, i'll also have to think about what to do with this blog once writing isn't my preoccupation anymore - when, in fact, it will forever be just that. at the moment i'm thinking i'll just keep posting, hopefully still on a daily basis, and see where this goes. i find that with a stock of around 500 regular individual readers per month it would be such a shame to discontinue this.
first and foremost, though, i'm back in berlin for four more weeks, which is lovely, despite the bad weather.
[braving the atlantic/ between cliffs/ a dream of spliffs/ listening to you/ explaining life/ my mouth full/ with smoke/ a smile/ for all the things/ you tell the horses/ and i hang myself/ on your neck/ a swing a kiss/ god you owed me.]
the bad news: i haven't been writing much lately.
the good news: i can't wait to get back at it.
i sent the story i was talking about below there and am also thinking about participating here and here and here and here and here and here. so plenty of work to do... will be back in berlin late thursday evening, so posts should be coming in daily again from friday on.
holiday weirdness:
in einem augenwinkel/ blinzeln/ zwinkert ein marienkäferkind.
[in a corner of the eye/ a twinkle/ blinks a lady bird's child.]
die bienen die finden/ die blüten im/ dreckigsten busch noch/ die spinne/ meine dünne/ nasenspitze dann/ die fessel und an ihr/ entlang aufs buch in/ dessen seiten kriecht/ sich fest ist hin/ als ichs zusammenschlag.
[the bees they find/ the flowers even/ in most filthy bushes/ and the spider/ finds the slim tip of my nose/ the shackle up/ along onto the book and/ in between its pages crawls/ athletic dies as i hard/ smash its covers shut.]
i wrote this little story when still in berlin a couple of weeks back. i'm thinking of using it for a writing competition, in which case i would have to take it back down again soon - so better read it quickly. an english translation, as usual, you'll find below.
SORRY, DECIDED TO TAKE IT BACK DOWN ALREADY. BOOOOHOOOOOO.
(i drew this around two years ago.)
