on graduating

Today, I graduated with a Master of Letters (with Merit) in Creative Writing.

I was an exhausting, beautiful, fantastic day.

There was snow covering the turrets of the main building and dusting the grass in the quadrangles. Coloured light poured through the stained glass into the hall and everyone was more than a little cold. We were nervous. We were exited. We sang in Latin and tried not to trip and shook hands and got our degrees. We stood in the cold taking photos and drinking the free alcohol (to celebrate and keep warm), and almost didn't want to leave. Snow crunched under our shoes and bit into the legs laid bare by short skirt hems, but we didn't want it to be over; didn't want to take off our gowns and hoods and not be set apart. But we did. We shed our robes like snakeskin, leaving studenthood in the seams; picked up our qualifications and marched out, onto the streets, into the traffic, shivering with pride and happiness and latent fear. For some, this was just a step--a necessity before doctorates and teaching and more letters after their name. For others, this was the end. No more classes. No more tests. No more essays.

It was over.

But we're still not done.

on diaries

As the year is slowly winding to a close, it occurred to me this week that I would need a 2011 diary. I am a big fan of list making, and writing things down in pen or pencil, and so I enjoy picking a new diary out every year. Last year, I bought a Paperblanks, and as I enjoyed using it, I figured I'd purcahse another diary, only in a slightly larger size than before (their Slim format can be a bit finickyto write in, especially as you get closer to the middle of the book while writing on the left side). Thus prepared, I made my way to my university bookshop, firm in my decision.

When I got there, I wavered.

As I stood in the shop, twirling the book stand round and round, I discovered that my eye was drawn elsewhere. They were slim diaries, black and bound with a cloth elastic. They were beautiful in their simplicity, as classic as the little black dress. You could see them older, the cover cracked and creased, the pages wrinkled from wear, but that only added to their beauty.

They were Moleskines.

I'd seen them before, in Waterstones and a dozen other shops, almost forgettable sitting near flashy book covers and notebooks covered with cupcakes and confetti and cats. I'd always ignored them, eyeing the pricetag and turning up my nose. Why would I pay so much for something so simple? But standing in the bookshop, something drew me to them. Something made me want to own them.

As with all new purchases, I had to deliberate. So I went home. That evening, I looked on the Moleskine website, practically drooling as I beheld not just the diaries, but the notebooks and sketchbooks and watercolour books; books big enough for scrapbooking; books small enough for only a single sentence. I love books in all their forms, and have often bought a new notebook when I knew it would be ages before I would be able to use it. There's just something about writing that first word--that first line--in a new book that is just...spine-tingling.

As I researched, I, like everyone in the 21st Century, turned to Wikipedia. For a while, all was well with the world.

Then I read the end of the article.

Then I felt my stomach clench.

Moleskines...are not green.

According to the article, in 2010 the California Prop 65 warning label started to be slapped onto their books. Save for their Cahier line (which is made from cardboard), all of Moleskine's covers are made with a plastic softener called DEHP (or Bis(2-ethylhexyl) phthalate), which apparently is carcinogenic, and thus necessitated the Prop 65 label. DEHP is used in the manufactoring of products containing PVC, including medical equipment like blood bags and air tubes. Not only is DEHP carginogenic, but it also adversely affects the human reproductive system, as they can leech into the body, lowering sperm count, affecting male fetal development, and causing miscarrige (as it's a pseudo-estrogen and hormone modifier). The Wikipedia article on DEHP (as linked above) continues to outline the harm the chemical can do to the human body.

So why is it used in Moleskine notebooks?

Unfortunately, the internet has provided no answer. Moleskine is aware that the chemical is used in their products, and of the harm that it could cause, but as of August 2010 has done nothing about it. Sickened--and disappointed--I decided not to buy a Moleskine. However, that did not stop me from staring morosely at them when I was in Waterstones a few days later. They looked so innocent. After all, they're just books. Empty books with false leather casing. Could it really be so damaging to own one?

I touched one, and when I got home couldn't stop myself from washing my hands.

I have since begun a search into other, chemical-free notebooks and diaries. Quo Vadis has an eco line that uses 100% recycled paper, and is even manufactured using biogas energy (although they are difficult to find in the UK). Collins has a carbon neutral notebook collection, an Eco line of diaries, and appears to regularly use 100% recycled paper in their products. Hopefully, I'll discover others, and as time passes more companies--including Moleskine--with strive to use fewer production methods that harm both people and the planet.

But for now, I think I'm going to stick with Paperblanks. First instinct is always the best, right?

(Image borrowed from here.)

on studio ghibli

Lately, I've been on a bit of an anime binge. More specifically, a Studio Ghibli binge.

I've been a Studio Ghibli fan for years, the appreciation--and later admiration--first beginning at age thirteen when I first saw Princess Mononoke. I was awed by the film. The story telling was captivating, the animation beautiful, and the score moving. I was entranced, and ten years later, I still am.


The film centres around Ashitaka, a man living during Japan's Muromachi period, who finds himself cursed by a dying boar demon. He leaves his home village for the boar's homeland, hoping to find a way to lift the curse and prevent his death. What he finds, however, is not a cure, but a struggle between the human village of Irontown and the gods, demons, and animals of the forest they threaten to destroy.

The film's environmental message is a powerful one, and one of the things about it that interests me is that there is no victory for either humanity or nature. While characters such as Lady Eboshi do change their former outlook (deciding to stop ravaging the forest to make iron), there are also ones like Jigo, who, despite almost dying at the hands of a deer god, still appears unrepentent towards his destructive actions. There are no winners and no losers, which is a great mirror of what actually happens in life, and one not often seen in any film, let alone an animated one.

One of the things writer and director Hayao Miyazaki does in this film that I adore, is his use of characterization as juxtaposition. There are two extremes in the film: those who hate humans (as encompassed by San, the titular princess), and those who hate nature (as encompassed by Lady Eboshi). In the middle, is Ashitaka, who represents a balance between the two. Of course, this is an extreme oversimplification of the characters. San may hate humans, but the only ones she knows having been trying to kill her animal friends and family, and as the story progresses she does come to care for Ashitaka. Lady Eboshi, who for the majority of the film only sees the forest and its animals, spirits, and gods as an obstacle in her path to bettering the industry of her village, is extremely generous to humans. She takes care of lepers, and frees prostitutes, and puts her trust in Ashitaka only hours after meeting him. Both women are complicated characters, and their status as polar opposites is not completely static. I find it fascinating how Miyazaki structures their motivation, and slowly and subtly changes them.

As an older, more overtly environmentally conscious writer, Miyazaki's use of nature in his films has been--and continues to be--a great inspiration to me. Princess Mononoke and his first Studio Ghibli film, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, are two of his more overtly environmentally conscious films. However, just because the environment isn't the central theme of the film does not mean he doesn't encorporate it elseware.

In Spirited Away, the protagonist Chihiro, working in a bath house for spirits, serves a massive, foul-smelling, filthy spirit that is nothing so much as sentient mud. During the spirit's bath, she discovers what at first she thinks is a thorn, but turns out to be the handle of a bicycle. Pulling out the bicycle results in dislodging a small mountain of human garbage, and once it's clear, Chihiro discovers that the spirit is actually a river god. It's a relatively small seen in the film, and the personification of the human pollution of the natural world goes uncommented on by any of the characters, however, it's things like that that have greatly influenced how I structure my own work.

To be honest, writing stories solely about global warming and melting ice caps can get rather dull. But Miyazaki has taught me that I can still have my environmental message present--that I can still say what I want to say about how I believe we should treat our planet better. It will just be done quietly. A sentence. A paragraph. A line of dialogue. It doesn't have to be big to make an impact, it just has to be there.

Next on my Studio Ghibli viewing list is Pom Poko, a film about tanuki (Japanese raccoon dogs). Written and directed by Isao Takahata, it also appears to have an environmental message, the plot centering around human development encroching on the natural habitat of animals. So I guess Miyazaki isn't the only environmental buff in the studio, eh?

my name is kate, and i am a writer

Blogs are everywhere. Everyone has one--or did before abandoning it for other pursuits, or a handle that isn't 'iheartvampires201'--and if you are one of the few who don't, there comes a point where someone asks, and gives you a funny look when you give your answer.

This goes doubly for anyone in a creative field.

Before the advent of the internet, fledgling writers grappled for spots in magazines and newspapers, in journals and 'zines, and when dissatisfied with their piles of rejection letters, created their own journals with which to slake their thirst for publication. Modern writers still do that, however, they have also turned to blogging, as an outlet for creativity, criticism, and passionate exultation of those whose work they admire the most.

I am now one of them.

After two degrees, and two queries by a published friend of my mother about whether or not I had a blog, I decided it was time to follow in the professional steps of so many others, and create a space purely for my numerous ruminations on not just my writing, but the writing of others, its place in the world, and the world's place in it.

I like the environment.

I like science fiction.

I like tea.

Chances are, they all wind up in the same story.