(hi)story

Freelancing is a great way to meet people (providing you have work, of course. If you don’t, you don’t meet anyone but your cat on its way to your bed where it takes a nap and ignores you all day). Over the last two weeks my freelance work for Die Taalgenoot gave me the opportunity to meet such a wonderful bunch of South Africans that I’ve fallen in love with the country all over again.

For my three articles I spoke to a 27-year-old Afrikaans rocker with a snor and a great sense of humour, a gay, married, Afrikaans/English/Italian couple with a love for showbiz and traditional cooking á la District Six, a no-nonsense veteran cook and author and one of her former Biology students who came to own one of our most famous restaurants without ever wanting to. I also spoke to a(nother) 20-something artist whose ambition puts me to shame.

In my interview with rocker Bouwer Bosch, he mentioned how much stories affect and inspire him. We diverged from the interview for a moment to talk about our South African tendency to use stories to make sense of the world. Of course, anyone who has heard the term ‘creation myth’ knows that stories have been around since humans developed the ability to speak to figure out our place in the overwhelming cosmos.

In South Africa’s tumultuous history our ability to tell stories has shaped who we’ve become as a nation. Horror stories from the Boer War, the Great Depression and the Apartheid years have helped us understand the human element of our history. Concentration camps didn’t hold thousands of people, it imprisoned one little boy who only wanted a piece of cheese before he died. Apartheid didn’t affect a faceless mass, it affected a friend’s father who was wrongfully imprisoned. We use stories to humanise and dehumanise, to honour or to vilify.

While telling stories is a very natural activity among humans, our ability to tell stories with such emotion and colour, with so much love and nostalgia and sometimes with such good intent is what makes us such a beautiful nation. It is also what makes my job the best one in the world.

Simplicity

One of the great delights of being a grownup is watching movies on a school night. Last night’s post-dinner offering was the gorgeous Tree of Life by Terrence Malick (The Thin Red Line).

The film was a triumph in many respects. Director of photography Emmanuel Lubezki tipped his hat to French Impressionist cinema through his point of view shots and the soundtrack is simply breathtaking. The film was a 139 minute visual and audio feast that possibly changed my expectations of the medium forever.

What bothered me about the film is how the story was told. In addition to the film’s unusual visual treatment, solid soundtrack and difficult themes, the disrupted narrative seemed excessive. Disrupted narrative is not an unfamiliar narrative style in modern cinema, but bothersome when coupled the film’s richness in other respects. The film lacked simplicity, which is why it won’t feature on the very important Kristia’s Top Five Films Of All Time.

In life, in cooking, in emotion, one can afford the luxury of grandeur and complication, but it takes only a basic knowledge of art to understand the great artist values simplicity. Michelangelo, Renoir, Picasso and Marlene Dumas belong to completely different movements, have vastly different styles and yet all share simplicity, either of subject, form or style.

Marlene Dumas

I am a firm believer in simplicity in writing. My belief was strengthened by a recent reading of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged – a book in which a simple concept is communicated through repetition, an inordinate amount of adjectives and structurally complicated sentences. Imagine my delight and relief when I started on Ernest Hemmingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, clean and clear in language and form, yet rich and rewarding in subject.

In my research for post I found this incredible essay by American novelist Frank Norris, dealing with simplicity in art in such a simple and effective way that I strongly encourage everyone to read it – whether you’re involved in the arts or you’re simply trying to be good at your day job.
Here’s a small extract to whet your appetite:

“Elaborate phrase, rhetoric, the intimacy of metaphor and allegory and simile is forgivable for the unimportant episodes where the interest of the narrative is languid; where we are willing to watch the author’s ingenuity in the matter of scrolls and fretwork and mosaics-rococo work. But when the catastrophe comes, when the narrative swings clear upon its pivot and we are lifted with it from out the world of our surroundings, we want to forget the author. We want no adjectives to blur our substantives.”

As always I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. You can comment by registering on the site or tell me what you think on the Facebook page. Take that, spammers!

The theoretical zen of uncertainty

Uncertainty is the best and worst part about freelancing. I love that I don’t know what will happen from one day to the next. I feel like a child discovering a little wonder under every stone. I’m not too fond of the uncertainty surrounding my finances, but if all goes according to my master plan, I will soon be rich and this problem will be eliminated altogether.

Bittersweet uncertainty is proving to be a challenge in the day-to-day operation of Wordsmyth. Unlike my brief tango with the corporate monster I don’t have a rough idea of what will happen that day. At the office, I would have made a cup of coffee around ten. At Wordsmyth HQ, I could have finished all my work for the day by ten, I could still be in bed or I could happily be doing my nails/washing/hair.

I tend to want to do everything I need to do, my work, story ideas, pitches, social media, blogs, research and studies all at once. The minute I sink my teeth into one, I start wondering about the other.

I read a really cool article about becoming very good at something and a lot of what the writer says about our need to be constantly stimulated made my Calvinistic guilt gland swell. Since I started doing yoga (and subsequently quit but plan to start again, I swear) I’ve been fascinated by the idea of being one-pointed (that was my yogi’s official term). In yoga it refers to focusing on a single point or thought in order to keep your balance long enough to benefit from the pose.

To achieve this elusive state of single-mindedness or one-pointedness or just focus (for those who aren’t into all that esoteric stuff) I have decided on the following strategy:

1. Turn off cell phone, email, Facebook, put away all wily magazines and books that threaten to distract me from my purpose.

2. Make a list. (I love lists)

3. Indulge in distractions for short periods after each item on the list is completed.

4. Don’t eat in front of the computer. It’s such a bad habit and so unnecessary. Why I do it is beyond me.

Whether or not this plan will work remains to be seen. I’ll keep you posted, though.

Because of a pesky spam problem, I have disabled the comments section on this blog. You are more than welcome to comment on the Wordsmyth Facebook page should you feel the desire to do so.

Here we go!

2012 might be in full swing, but on this side of the real world the swinging has not yet begun. I’m kicking off with my first translation work of the year today. As any freelancer can tell you, all steady work is exciting work so my metaphorical pencils are sharpened and I’m good to go!

That said, it seems like a world of agonising admin awaits before I can really sink my teeth into the new year. My freelance career (in its infancy, but a career no less) has presented some unexpected challenges, not least of which the dreaded Internet Issue.

I tend to move a lot, so I try never to tie myself down to a particular dwelling. This means I prefer a 3G connection that I can carry around with me to a line that takes weeks to sort out and presents administrative challenges whenever the urge to relocate hits. Sadly my service provider of choice (this is not Hello Peter, so I’m not going to say that it’s Vodacom) is overpriced and I have almost zero 3G reception in my area. On any given weekday an observer might find me furiously and impotently cursing at the naked skies. I have not yet figured out a solution to this exasperating obstacle, so please feel free to suggest alternatives.

I also have to make work of finding new clients this year. Salesmanship is a skill that I do not yet possess, but life’s for learning, eh? If you happen to pass me pushing a trolley containing the last of my earthly possessions by the end of the year you can assume that I failed in this regard.

The freelancer's mantra

Challenges aside, 2012 will be nothing if not exciting. I’m back at varsity this year to complete my Honours degree, I’m looking forward to a trip to New York with the love of my life in April and I’m in the process of de-cluttering my home and workspace.

Here’s to 2012 – the year of the dragon, the eye of the tiger, the rider on the storm!

Sing me a dream

Roughly two years ago I had a one of those nights where my brain refused to let my body sleep. At the time I was working for a great company named Medios. My boss and I had been discussing the future of the company and similar grown-up things the day before. Coming from a background in writing, I started dreaming up a grand scheme involving a writing department that would allow us to charge for any writing outside of our normal PR and advertising retainers.

I hopped out of bed, grabbed a notebook and a pencil and started devising business world domination through copywriting. Late night thoughts tend to be a little grandiose. Of course I had no idea at the time that my late night plan would take a slight detour through the corporate world and eventually bring me back to the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do (for an income, I mean. I want to do a lot of things.)

Today I write my first blog entry in a while on this blog, not as an employee with a dream, but as an owner with a lot of work to do. My baby has grown into a toddler who tends to run around and pee on things. Like any parent I need to grow with my kid, I need to learn a special kind of patience, I need to be responsible and wise and open to criticism. I don’t expect it to be easy, but I know that this is where I need to be.

2011 has given me the space to grow into a person that I can actually live with. It has given me a push to follow a dream, courage to let love in and just the right amount of levelheadedness to take care of myself. It also left me with just a smidgeon of crazy to remind me that beauty can take me by surprise at any second.

I’m off to New Zealand in less than a week. I don’t know if I’ll blog from there or not, so this might be Wordsmyth’s farewell to 2011. Thank you, 2011. You were a bit of a dick at times, I won’t lie, but all in all I like you. I’ll leave you with one of my favourites of the year.

Merry Christmas!

Discovery!

The thing I love most about social networks in general, and Twitter in particular, is that it can keep me entertained for hours. I find everything from interesting blogs to new music to restaurant recommendations and punny jokes on social networks. I believe in social networks like Batman believes in Gotham.

Thanks to Twitter I disovered two new things today:

Numero uno: One of my very favourite local bands, Wrestelerish, released a new single. I got to listen to it, and now you can too! Click here!

I have to admit, I’m not the world’s biggest fan of SoundCloud. I often have trouble listening to tracks. Luckily the gods of local tunes defeated the devils of SoundCloud today and I got to do a couple of minutes of the old chair boogie.

Secondly, my beautiful, hyperactive, über-designer friend Minette (@minettepix) shared this link to a blog called Life, Love, Lenses. I love everything about this blog, from the name to the composition and texture of the images.

I was particularly enchanted by this image.

I could dress in black and read Camus

Happy browsing and merry chair wiggling.

Writers! Take heed!

I love blogs. I love writing them and I love reading them. At the moment I don’t get nearly enough time to do either, and I give myself a lot of flack for it. I have no idea why I put so much pressure on myself. It’s a very annoying trait which I plan to fix by drinking as much as possible.

In the meantime I’ll share this post I found this post on one of my favourite blogs, This Isn’t Happiness. Sometimes original content is just too much effort, especially in business writing. Every copywriter I know (and many, many copywriters I don’t know) is guilty of indulging in the odd cliché. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but it’s good to be aware of the traps.

Go have a look at Top 100 Words and Phrases to Avoid.

I also recently found out that my friend Victoria Burkhart has a photography blog. Her career in the film industry means she travels all the time, and has ample opportunities to explore exotic shores through her lens. Take a little time to glimpse into her world.

Victoria Burkhart's photography blog

Winter

It’s hard to believe that we’re halfway through 2011. The year so far has been one of disillusionment. I was bitterly disappointed by a friend, the new job proved a lot harder than originally anticipated, otherwise solid relationships seem to be crumbling and my silence on the blogging front is testament to the fact that my creativity completely abandoned me somewhere between 31 December 2010 and today.

I find it especially hard to stay positive during the winter months. I seem to be living in the dark. It’s very hard to remind myself that this too shall pass, that spring will come again, that I will feel attractive and alive again, that I will write again. I always associate winter with solitude. I feel isolated and destitute when the trees are bare and small, dusty children shiver on the sidewalk.

A recent trip to Mozambique briefly pulled me from my annual emotional hibernation, took me away from the disappointments and the hardships and my wavering faith in myself. For a brief moment I could look at the ocean and recognize a little part of myself that is still very much alive and vibrant, but then I had to pack my bags and drive slowly back into winter.

I’m back again, and sleeping in my skin.

Winter of our discontent

The nature of the beastly budget

As I mentioned in my previous post, this year I’m all about making most of my finite and precious days on earth. To achieve this noble purpose, I need funding. Sponsors aren’t exactly lining up to help me out in this department, so I have to budget. For this purpose I created of my very grown-up Excel spreadsheet of budgeting doom.

Resolve: I had it

This spreadsheet, this thing of wonder, was going to help me achieve two things:

1. Settle my heaps of debt. Live and learn, right?

2. Ensure that I have money to go out for drinks at all times, including the weekend, nay, the very day before payday.

What I want to do. All the time.

I know that there’s supposed to be a savings component too, but this is a slow recovery. Give me time.

February was my first budget month, and I’ll be the first to admit that I made some mistakes:

D'oh = No dough

Mistake number one:
I used all the money I paid into my credit card to fund my frolicking. I actually withdrew the money from the account and spent the cash. No need to point out the massive fail there, kids. I get it.

Mistake number two:
I used the money I budgeted for groceries to fund my frolicking. This panned out because there’s always a dusty tin of beans somewhere in the kitchen cupboard. Not the most nutritious choice, I’ll admit, but what can you do?

Mistake number three:
I used some of the money I budgeted for petrol to fund my frolicking. As you can imagine I had some tense moments on the road in February.

Mistake number four:
I used the money I paid off on my Woolworths account (curse your tasty goodness, Woolies food store!) to fund my Valentine’s Dinner.*

In an attempt to rectify these mistakes, I made an effort to actually budget for my frolicking, which is obviously my most expensive habit. This seems like a good approach to me. It means my daily allowance is a little more, which means that I can happily frolic, eat and drive around. What more could a girl need, right?

Except…

As part of the new, improved, ready to celebrate me, I’ve identified thoughtful birthday presents for all my friends. I set out a budget for each friend months in advance and I even ordered some of the gifts already. Things were going swimmingly until I made an impulsive purchase that usurped my entire frolicking budget and then some. The result is a fair bit of anxiety about the state of my financial affairs on the first day of the month. †

Although my strategy in February wasn’t perfect, it was nice to know that I planned ahead and that I only ran out of money five days before payday, as opposed to the usual fifteen. Having said that, this month I’m missing out on fifteen stress-free, living large days that bad financial management offered me in the past.

Let’s hope I do better in April.

*The dinner was a huge success!
† Completely idiotic, considering that I budgeted for a bag, a grater and a very expensive gift that I don’t have to buy.

Celebrate good times!

For years I snorted disapprovingly at things like Easter egg hunts, Christmas and Valentine’s Day, but this year I’m checking out the beaten path.

As a child, every day was full of possibilities. The world was a large and magical place created just for me. I’m sad to admit that growing up changed a lot of that. While I’d love to say I’m the type of person who remained a child at heart, I can’t.

A Chinese Princess at the Chinese New Year's celebration

It took about a day of being an adult to make me realize it’s no picnic. Nobody’s around to protect me from the horrors of mankind anymore. War and politics and poverty and violence are realities I can’t ignore. Every day presents opportunities to fuck up. There’s a lot of pressure to be a good person, a good friend, a good citizen, successful, intelligent, beautiful and lovable. My daily routine is slowly killing my creativity and my belief that I can change the world.

Being realistic and practical are commendable qualities, but they aren’t qualities I value in my personal life. I’ve decided to create opportunities for the world to surprise me. If there’s a reason to celebrate, I’m doing it. Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, Chinese New Year, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Youth Day, Human Rights Day, every single friend’s birthday (I’ll even throw in Hanukkah, if someone can explain it to me) will experience the full wrath of my uncontained joy. How’s that for an oxymoron?

Never too old: Dad and Santa

So far my strategy has panned out. Christmas was a lovely, mushy affair celebrated with family and friends over delicious meals. I danced in the rain on New Year’s Eve. I squealed like a piglet and bought a bunny-shaped balloon for Chinese New Year’s.

Crazy-eyed one-eared bunny balloon

Even Valentine’s Day panned out for a change. Instead of the usual dread, I approached the day with excitement. I started putting together a V-Day playlist a month before the day, I cooked pasta with butter sauce, I filled my home with people I love and I drank more white wine than anyone should ever drink.

My new, improved approach to Valentine’s Day earned me some love from the Universe in general, and my friend Jian Reis in particular. Not only did I get a Batman duckie chocolate and a heart-shaped note from my friend Donnay, a heart-shaped cookie from my cousin Carina, a homemade box of homemade heart-shaped dark chocolates from my forever-in-my-heart roommate Mel, heart-shaped chocolates from my best friend Annerien and roses from Sparrow, I also got roses and a whole box full of treats (including a Batman graphic novel) from Jian!

The first red roses I've ever gotten for V-day

To add to the awesomeness, an impulsive decision to stop at Mama Shebeen’s in Greenside got me free beer (not the best idea after two bottles of white wine) and a free show with banjos! I love banjos! And better yet, the banjo was played by a bearded man! Bearded banjo man! Lots of exclamation marks!

Bearded banjo man!

Anyhoo, I shall continue on my quest to celebrate whatever I can, but the rest of the celebrations have a lot to live up to. And so, to Easter!