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This Writer’s Life: The Practice of Fiction

Alfred DePew
Jan 31st, 2010

"The Faulkner Portable" by Gary Bridgman

Novelist Carolyn Chute used to say that she spent eight hours a day talking to little people who weren’t there. Fellow writers in the audience would laugh—a little nervously. Because of course the little people are there. And they don’t go away—until we give them voice and a chance to make a mess of their very own lives and—who knows?—maybe even a chance to redeem themselves.

That’s what keeps us writing. We want to find out what happens next.

The novella I’m working on began with a voice in my head. A character was beginning to tell me her story. I couldn’t figure out where she lived, so I ignored her because I was at work on something else. But she persisted, and when I made my first trip to Quebec City, I realized she lived there. Everywhere I went, I found her story emerging—so fast and so vividly, that I had to drop what I was writing and attend to these places she had lived and worked.

I am not a writer of historical fiction, yet this character lived in a city I didn’t know at the end of World War II and spoke a language I speak poorly and read almost not at all.

Buffooning Around with Trilby Jeeves

Alfred DePew
Jan 17th, 2010

Imagine the Olympic Opening Ceremonies next month. Brass Bands. Flags a-flap from every nation. Battalions of buff and nubile bodies in Spandex. A Grand March of Ubermenschen, that would be the envy of Leni Riefenstahl.

Let the Games begin!

But wait! There’s some kind of disturbance, a scuffle perhaps. Security forces are quick to surround a small group of misshapen, clumsy people who seem incapable of marching in formation.

And they’re making noises that sound strangely like—flatulence! 

Are they Hobbits? Goblins? Trolls?

Nope. Just a gang of those pesky Buffoons, trained by Trilby Jeeves, who, after all, cannot be held responsible for what people do once they leave her workshops.

Buffoons have minds of their own. And most days, happily, they’re up to no good.

Julia James and The Mini-Retreat Solution

Alfred DePew
Jan 8th, 2010

Julia James holds a copy of her book

When Julia James was working on her Masters Thesis in Physical Geography at UBC, she noticed that most of her best ideas came to her when she got up to use the washroom. A different quality of thought was available when she wasn’t trying to think at all. She was aware of  “the bigger picture, concepts, a shift in perspective.”

Later, when she became a life coach, she noticed that her clients—busy professionals—almost never took breaks.

“They didn’t relax at all—they were so restless,” she says. “They were highly educated, excited and passionate about their careers, constantly going, and they’d lose their sense of direction—where they were headed in all this going.”

Which is often why they hired James as their coach in the first place.

Along with helping her clients to set and reach their goals, James began to suggest ways in which they could renew their energy right on the job.

She developed and produced a series of CDs to help her clients to relax, but, she says, “the step to actually using the tool was too big—so a how to book was needed to coach them through the steps to take that space and time to retreat in their day.”

Becoming Still

Alfred DePew
Jan 3rd, 2010

 

Let’s just say it’s not at the top of my agenda most days, which is why at Christmas I usually choose to make a retreat.

Chances are, if I had a regular sitting meditation practice, I wouldn’t need to take such drastic measures: booking the retreat, explaining to friends and business associates why I won’t be at their Christmas parties again this year, taking a bus to the ferry, the ferry to Vancouver Island, and a taxi to the retreat centre.

That’s the easy part. The hard part is living in my own skin for four days without the distractions I keep saying I want to escape.

Once they are nowhere to be found, distractions seem like a mighty good idea.

Who wants to face one’s failures and shortcomings? Who wants to face one’s loneliness and cravings?

And who the hell wants to listen to what goes on inside my head?

Eldership Circles

Alfred DePew
Dec 18th, 2009

Vicki McLeod

As supportive as her women’s group has been over the years, Vicki McLeod felt a need to extend her personal work into her professional life—and beyond. She also noticed that many of her colleagues and clients “were doing everything their MBAs taught them and the consultants told them, and it still wasn’t happening—things weren’t changing. Something else was needed.”

So McLeod, a local communications consultant and coach, started an Eldership Circle.

“I realized that if I was going to hold a space for change, I needed a place where I could do my inner work and be fully supported to take it out into the world. So I decided to put out a call.”

The group’s purpose is to create a space where women can help each other in “overcoming personal barriers and prejudices, [creating] conscious awareness of rank and privilege, and resolving inner conflict—all necessary to … heal our communities.” The circle is meant to go beyond personal growth and always points to service. It’s a place where personal development and social consciousness meet.

Barbara McAfee: Inciting Radical Aliveness Through Song

Alfred DePew
Dec 7th, 2009

Photo by Nancy Chakrin

Barbara McAfee teaches people to sing—sometimes as many as 1,500 at a time—from 50 different countries—in English—a round, no less—in about 20 minutes. At least that’s what she did at last year’s International Coach Federation Conference in Montreal. 

And she made it seem easy. 

So when I heard she was here in Vancouver presenting with management consultant and writer Meg Wheatley, I jumped at the chance to interview her.

“Meg talks. I sing,” says McAfee, laughing.

Over the last two years, she and Wheatley have been crisscrossing North America on a Women’s Leadership Revival Tour. When Wheatley first asked Barbara if she’d write the anthem and be the band, Barbara said, “You’d better not be kidding.” 

Meg wasn’t. And it happened.  

Late last month, Wheatley and McAfee were in Vancouver, conducting a two-day managers conference whose theme was the voice of leadership. 

Vancouver State of the Arts: Alive and Well and Living on the Eastside

Alfred DePew
Nov 23rd, 2009

Alfred DePew, Monoprint, 2007

Face it. When it comes to the arts, we have a terrible reputation. Back East, they assume we mistake Snowboarding for High Culture because of the altitude.

Before I moved here, people said. “Yes, I hear it’s lovely, but … won’t you get bored? I mean there’s no real culture, is there?”

When I pointed to Jane Rule and Emily Carr, I could hear these Easterners think what they dared not say: a lesbian writer and a painter who kept a monkey doth not a culture make.

I will defend both Rule and Carr unto death, but therein lies the trouble. You get defensive, and Easterners grow even smugger.

But then, they’ve never been to the Eastside Culture Crawl! It’s not the number, nor even the diversity of artists represented; it’s an energy and spirit powerful enough to soften even the most cynical eastern heart. In fact it’s enough to make some envious. 

Of what?

Community—essential, wide-ranging, friendly, democratic. The spirit of a community in action, aware of itself, celebrating even as it voices serious concerns for its future …

Studio Notes

Alfred DePew
Nov 18th, 2009

Not the painting I describe, but another one of mine.

Last week in the studio, we could see the agitation in Burrard Inlet. Large, rolling waves washed up all sorts of debris; the sky changed rapidly—opening, closing, lifting, descending—rain coming, for sure. An electrical charge in the air, and we got down to work, without much talk.

I taped paper onto three boards, mixed my palette, wet the paper, and worked in quick, loose strokes with a palette knife over the whole thing once. Then I put it aside and picked up another board. Added new mixtures to the palette, wet the paper, and again went at it with the palette knife, not squinting exactly, but close. Soft focus. I wanted it to breathe today, did not want to work in the dense, close, layered way I’d been working last spring. Stay loose, I kept thinking. Leave space. Stop. Step back. Return.

The pigment was getting thick in places, so I pressed other colours into the mounds that had formed. I mixed and re-mixed paint in small patches right on the paper and then spread some of  them out in a wide arc—then, I went in again with the palette knife to work daubs of pigment back into the mounds.

It was time to stop again.

Zeitgeist and the Berlin Wall

Alfred DePew
Nov 9th, 2009

Photo by  Frederik Ramm

On the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I’m aware of not only the spirit of that time, but also a difficult-to-name energy at work around last month’s announcement of the Nobel Peace Prize.

 Zeitgeist is usually translated as the intellectual, ethical or political climate of a nation, the “mood of an era.” It is, quite literally, TimeSpirit, and I write the word in the same way that physicist and Jungian analyst Arnold Mindell does when he talks about a felt but invisible force having an impact on how we think and relate to one another. When I work in organizations or with couples, I sometimes feel the TimeSpirits of Racism or Homophobia, as well as the TimeSpirit of last year’s economic meltdown.

The 21st Annual Jewish Film Festival Arrives in Vancouer This Friday

Alfred DePew
Oct 26th, 2009

Lady Kul El Arab

OK, I was spoiled. I’d grown complacent. In Maine, I was within walking distance of a cinema that showed the best of the world’s independent and documentary films—all year long. Each week a different film—sometimes two different ones running at the same time. We got them late, but we got them. The movie house was old, the seats wonky and the sound system impossible, but we were loyal—and, as I say, spoiled. 

In Vancouver, it’s cinematic feast or famine. Serious film buffs depend on festivals. So I took the plunge at this year’s VIFF, and I wasn’t disappointed. I would choose two or three films I wanted to see on a given day at a given time and venue, show up 60-90 minutes early, find out what tickets were available, and then wait for instructions about which line I was to stand in next. The conversation in these lines was lively, even festive—especially when it wasn’t raining … In one, I encountered a guy who was on his 30th film. He’d taken the week off work.  

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