16 — or 25 things — about me

Joanna Powell Colbert tagged me to do this meme. And since I’m trying to blog everyday in January — maybe some of you have already noticed? — it’s a good push in the right direction.

Here are the rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a post or Facebook note with 16 or 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 16 or 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. (If you don’t tag 16 or 25 people, no worries! It’s all for fun.)

Okay, here goes:

1. Strangest job I’ve held: I restored a spookhouse in Rockaway Playland. It was written about in the New Yorker as a “Talk of the Town” item.

2. Happiest and most exciting day of my life was the day when my daughter was born. Hands down. If I could relive it again, I’d do so in a heartbeat.

3. My daughter Thea is convinced she is a mermaid. Really. She calls me Mommy Mermaid.

4. I have a terror of being landlocked. I’ve always lived fairly close to water. The idea of being trapped in the midwest, lovely as that region of the United States may be, makes me feel claustrophobic. It’s not a logical fear. I mean, could I really swim to France if I needed to get out of NYC in a hurry?

5. When I was 24, I sold my first two picture books. To celebrate, I moved from NYC to a 15th century cottage in the middle of Dartmoor to follow my muse. Though I wasn’t far from the coast, I rarely saw it, since I wasn’t able to drive. Instead, I often walked along the Dart River.

6. I moved back to NYC a year later when my visa expired, thinking I’d return to Dartmoor soon. Instead, I met my husband on the F train and got a dream job working with probably the best children’s book art director in publishing at that time.

7. I stayed at this job part time for seven years — a veritable apprenticeship — during which time I also illustrated a few picture books. And then I sold The Book of Goddesses. It became a big hit, much to my surprise.

8. After that, I was able to work full time as an author and illustrator. I’m almost always on a book deadline, which is wonderful but exhausting. I take nothing for granted — I’m only as good as my last publication.

9. I’ve always wanted to work in publishing. Ever since I was a small child (except when I wanted to be Nancy Drew). I also wanted to live in a library. We practically do — we probably have several thousand books between us.

10. My maternal grandmother was a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter and gifted (or cursed, as the case may be) with prophetic dreams. She died last year at the age of 92. I think it’s from her side of the family that I get my interest in what cannot be seen.

11. There’s a rumor in that same family that we’re related to English royalty via a governess who married her employer. Shades of Charlotte Bronte! There’s also a rumor that we’re related to travelers (aka gypsies). Shades of D.H. Lawrence!

12. I saw my first tarot deck when I was six. I was utterly fascinated with it. I began reading tarot in earnest when I was in college. My first deck was David Palladini’s Aquarian.

13. I studied illustration with David Palladini in college. He seemed like a very unhappy person at the time — hopefully he’s happier now. At the end of the semester, my best friend staged a class revolt against him after he insulted one student too many. True story.

14. I have a not-so-secret dream of being an expat again, preferably in Paris. I’d need to learn French first.

15. I was married in a hurricane. Outdoors. Luckily, we rented the expensive tent. The mud stains on my wedding dress couldn’t be cleaned.

16. My favorite novel is probably Jane Eyre or The Time Traveler’s Wife. I’m convinced Jane Eyre is *the* feminist ur-text. I can recite portions of it from memory beyond “Reader, I married him.”

17. I met Audrey Niffenegger (author of The Time Traveler’s Wife) at a publishing party once — we worked with the same editor at the time. However, this was before I read TTTW. Which was probably a good thing, since I would have gushed and said embarrassing things. Instead, we had a very civilized and interesting conversation about tarot. She was lovely, and looked very PreRaphaelite with long reddish hair — sort of how I’d imagine Clare to look.

18. I have a long standing fascination with the Orpheus myth. Not sure why. My favorite piece of music is probably Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice. I once did a list of my favorite movies and noticed that most of them used the Orpheus myth as a jumping off point.

19. Last year, I finally came to the realization that I’m an city person — meaning I’m happiest in a city. I always thought I was a country person, and would eventually move to a remote area far from the madding crowds. I love where I live in Brooklyn. I walk down the street and see friends and neighbors all the time. I like sitting in cafes, looking at the architecture. It’s like living in a small town in the big city. It’s a great place to raise a child.

20. I first became exposed to the PreRaphaelites in college. It completely changed my life, especially the work of Dante Rossetti, Edward Burne-Jones, and William Morris. My first trip to England was spent following where they worked and lived. I cut my hair to look like Jane Morris.

21. My studio-gallery is definitely inspired by William Morris’s Red House and Kelmscott Press. I even have a red wall in it and Morris fabric.

22. I don’t know how many books or publications I have. Honestly. I guess I could count them. I think I’m too busy working to keep track. It might also depress me to see how many are now OP.

23. I mainly write about women’s history, mythic and actual. My illustrated novel, The Lover’s Path, was inspired by the true story of a courtesan of the Italian Renaissance and her daughter. It was the hardest and most involved book I’ve ever created. I refer to The Lover’s Path as my “heartbreak book.” If I’d known what I know now, who knows if I’d have started it?

24. That written, it was worth it because I met my literary agent while working on it. She rocks. I dedicated Doomed Queens to her.

25. My favorite Doomed Queen is Jane Grey. I heard about her when I was in fourth grade. From there, I became obsessed and read everything I could find find. It was satisfying to finally write about Jane Grey for publication, so many years after first learning about her — kind of a full circle.

So that’s more than enough about me. What about you? Though I’ve already tagged a few friends on Facebook, you’re welcome to join in. If you do post, make sure to list your link in my comments section so I can read. It’s interesting to see how far and wide this meme goes, and also to learn who reads this blog!

• Filed under be-mused, blogs we read, friends and colleagues, lover's path, mythic living, publications, tarot and oracles, the world around me, travels | 8 Responses

Take a look inside Doomed Queens!

Random House has just posted this very cool widget for DOOMED QUEENS. It offers a juicy preview of it — take a look!

Yesterday was the official Doomed Queens launch and publication date! I have a post incubating about it, but in the meantime, check out Diane’s post. Diane modeled for my Catherine of Aragon drawing, and was one of the “queens” in attendance at the launch party.

• Filed under Uncategorized, lover's path, mythic living, sister sites, studio and gallery, travels | One Response

links on the side: Elizabeth Genco on How To Connect With Your Muses

I’m away on vacation these next two weeks. During this period, I’ve arranged for several guest bloggers to visit. I’ve long wanted to feature some of the talented people whom I’ve linked to on the sidebar of this blog. First up is Elizabeth Genco, a multitalented writer, tarotist and Brooklyn neighbor — she’s written a wonderful post on romancing the muses, a subject very close to my heart.

Elizabeth is also affiliated with the Endicott Studio blog, which is one of my favorites. If you’re ever short on inspiration, a quick visit to the either Elizabeth’s or the Endicott Studio site will set you up right!

* * * * * * *

How To Connect With Your Muses: 9 Ways To Get Inspired When You’re Anything But

Ah, muses! How I love thee!

I’ll confess: I do love muses. And I appear to be somewhat fascinated with them, as they often appear in my work (of course, I didn’t notice this until an amused – pardon the pun – third party pointed it out). I have a few of my own and yes, I’ve been one for others a time or two (oo la la!).

But what happens when they don’t show up?

All artists face creative challenges, from sticky wicket story problems to out-and-out fallow periods. It’s part of the price of entry, I think, of being a creator. Odd as it may seem, that perspective alone is one of the hardiest tools in my toolbox for when it happens to me.

Here are a few others that have helped me keep the muses within reach and working overtime:

1. Work.

Early and Often. Not to sound like your mother or your high school art teacher or the countless professional creative types who have said it over and over, but: work whether you’re feeling inspired or not. Keep doing that and you’ll be inspired way more often.

I have no idea why that is. But I do know this: cliches are cliches because they’re true! Okay, at least this one is.

2. Make a list.

I’ll counterbalance the obligatory muse medicine with a muse, uh… popsicle (currently my husband Leland’s favorite treat, feel free to substitute your own). Making a list of your muses is a lot of fun, plus we’ll use it in the next few steps. What inspires you? What shows up in your work all the time? Here are a few of mine:

• New York City
• Folklore, fairy tales and old books with the same
• Mythology
• Tarot and esoterica (fancy word for “occultism” don’t ya know)
• Ghosts, ghost stories, cemeteries
• New England
• Ballads and old school folk music
• Boardwalks and amusement parks
• Husband

Just writing that all down gets me excited. A zillion ideas I’ll never have time to get to. Thinking in those terms zaps the lack mentality pretty darned quick.

3. Cultivate, collect, splurge, indulge.

Got your list? Great. I hearby give you permission to bring these things into your life in any way that you can and as much as your budget allows. Behind me is a bookshelf (check out a picture here) filled with books and things on all of those muses I mentioned. Most of them have been carefully selected for strategic writing room placement. This is not an accident!

4. Now go play with it all.

One of my favorite games in the world: go to the shelf, pick up a book, flip around until I find a picture or old tale or old song or whatever calls to me at that moment, and write a story around it. No pressure, no rules, just me chillin’ and having a gay old time doing what I love.

And yet, several published pieces have come out of it, including things that I’ve actually received checks for. Haha! I win!

That’s never the intent going in, of course. The intent going in is to just to totally indulge myself in what I love. Note: I still win.

My advice? Give it a try.

5. Take walks.

When I’ve got story problems, nothing but nothing beats a walk. Oxygen to brain? Check. Healthy glow and spring in the ‘ol step? Check.

Muse and mind working overtime while I’m not looking? Check, check and check.

Bonus tip if you live in one of your muses like I do: get off the beaten path and go somewhere new. Instead of looking at the ground, look up. There’s a huge world in those buildings and it lives above eye level. (Learned this from Rachel Pollack while sitting on a bus heading into the city. Changed my life. Seriously.)

6. Be with people that love you, support you, and support what you do.

Nothing scares the muse off quite like judgment. I’m sure you have enough of ‘em living in your own head; you owe it to yourself to banish them from your enviornment, or (because I know that’s way easier said than done) reach out to folks of like mind.

Cultivating a team of cheerleaders is an oft-overlooked tool in the creative person’s arsenal. I couldn’t do this thing without mine.

7. Make some space for the muses to hang out in.

One way you do this is by working. The rest are trial and error. For me, that means having a relatively clean office (ie, just the right amount of creative clutter), plenty of open space, pictures on the walls (this one’s all Leland), books nearby, and a notebook close at hand everywhere I go.

The notebook thing is crucial. I’ve even taken to keeping a small leaflet-style book (from redhorseshoe.com) in my wallet. Its official job is keep track of where my money goes, but serves double duty for ideas in a pinch. What does this do? This sends a message to the muses, and the message is this: “I love you! I am always prepared! Feel free to stop by any time!”

And so they do.

8. Refill the well.

Creative work is a delicate balance of input and output, and you really can’t have one without the other. So drink up! In addition to what’s on your muses list, look elsewhere. Books, movies, music, plays, pictures, places, people — fodder is everywhere and you need it like crazy. Indulge in your medium or genre, but step outside of it, too.

One word of caution, especially if you’re working in a commercial medium like comics or screenwriting or novels or whatever: it’s all too easy to produce the same stuff that we’ve all seen over and over. No judgments here, just a quick check of the compass. One thing I don’t like to admit out loud (and yet, here I go, about to do it now) is that I haven’t read a lot of the classic fantasy literature. I found fantasy well after I left home, and sometimes I feel a zillion years behind. But I’m learning that there are real advantages to that, too. Again, balance.

9. Rest.

Easy does it. You can’t create when you’re exhausted, and my muses always seem to know when I’ve hit that point before I do. When they stop coming ’round, that’s my cue to take a nap.

• Filed under be-mused, mythic living, new projects, the world around me | One Response

the magic of place names

When I was a child, I loved to study maps. And I still do. Tom, my anthropologist husband, shares this fascination and has collected a wide variety of them. For years, we had a map of the moon and a map of the Vienna metro thrown in the back of our car, just in case. I mean, what if you needed to locate the Sea of Tranquility? Or wanted to navigate your way around the Ringstrausse?

Growing up in (to my mind) boring, suburban New Jersey, maps offered a glimpse of an alternate world that I might visit one day, if I got lucky. Whenever I looked at a map, I would imagine what each place might be like, what their names signified. Even local place names held magic within them: Would Spring Valley be filled with flowers? What about Bellemar — how beautiful would the ocean look there?

In particular interest to me were places that shared the same names. Vienna, Virginia and Vienna, Austria. Paris, France and Paris, Texas. Jamaica, New York and . . . well, you get the idea. My favorite fantasy was that there was a sympathetic field between each of these same-named places. Words are magic, after all. If you located this power field, you would be instantly swept in a vortex of energy from one place to the next. You’d close your eyes in Venice, California and next find yourself chasing pigeons in the Piazza San Marco.

Name travel instead of time travel, as it were.

All of this is a long preamble to describe my visit last week to Chadd’s Ford, Pennsylvania.

Chadd’s Ford, as some of you might know, was home to the noted book illustrator N. C. Wyeth. N. C. Wyeth may now be eclipsed in fame by his son, Andrew Wyeth, but during the early part of the twentieth century, he was quite the celebrity among artists.

N. C. Wyeth was the student of Howard Pyle and inspired generations of illustrators, including myself. He was also well-paid: N. C. Wyeth used the payment he received for Treasure Island — the modern-day equivalent of $200,000 — to purchase land at Chadd’s Ford, where he built his home and studio. When you consider that most children’s book illustrators make under $10,000 for a picture book, this is an astonishing symbol of the power Wyeth’s art wielded in the marketplace.

N. C. Wyeth’s studio (above) is only available for visits during warm weather. Though I’ve visited the Brandywine River Museum previously, it was in the winter. This time, I got lucky.

This is the view from his studio. Imagine gazing upon this as you paint, and how inspiring it must have been for the great illustrator. His commute to work was a bucolic garden path leading up from his home, about 100 yards or so.

In my twenties, I lived for a year in a village in England named Chagford. Chagford was home to several well-known book illustrators. (I do not include myself in their illustrious company, though I hope to one day!) These artists included Alan Lee and Brian Froud. Terri Windling of the Endicott Studio for the Mythic Arts has a cottage there. In other words, Chagford is a nexus attracting book artists of all sorts — illustrators, writers, and so on. Including myself.

When I left Chagford to return to the United States after my visa expired, I felt like Eve expelled from the garden. I still dream about Chagford regularly, walking its winding streets toward the moors beyond.

Chagford, England and Chadd’s Ford, Pennsylvania. Both homes to noted illustrators. Both attracting artists and writers.

Coincidence? Or a bit of sympathetic place name magic?

• Filed under be-mused, mythic living, publishing, the art world, the world around me, travels | 2 Responses