A good day for pluviophiles

Well, actually, even I find this weather kind of frightening. It is monsooning outside right now. As in, I’m pretty sure if I walked out of my building I’d drown.

Anyway, this means that WORD Vancouver is being moved indoors — so you can still come see us tomorrow but we’ll likely be inside.

Oh, right — we’ll be at WORD tomorrow. Not sure if I mentioned that. I probably didn’t, because I spent this week getting my FACE EATEN by the work I had to do in prep for WORD. Beeg [bada boom] publishing order had to be completed and then I had to finish editing Stranger Skies so I could get the ARC out to winners and people who helped me with the cover reveal.

(If I missed you in that email — please let me know. My brain is basically dead right now and I’m not even sure what my name is. Awesome McBitchpants? Something like that.)

Who is we? Kat and Wolff, obviously, and the Powell River Live Poets’ Guild and International Peace Poem and Youth Peace Poem Competition. We’re big on peace. And literacy.

Right now I am trying to give my brain a desperately needed break after going through editing hell over the past two days. Mainly by watching Angel and Buffy on Netflix. Don’t judge me. I never got to see them in the order they aired (I watched Angel before Buffy and marathon-ed both shows) so I’m re-watching them in order. I wish Netflix would make this a bit easier by allowing you to create playlists but it doesn’t. C’est la vie.

Also, yes, that annoying box at the top of each page on this blog will be there until October 4th. Sorry. Actually, not sorry, ignore that reflexive Canadianism.

And finally, in honor of Banned Books Week (which I totally missed thanks to work), here are my favourite three lines from the poem “Voice” by Kaimana Wolff (found in the witless poisoner).

This flesh is made of words:
light me and I will burn
like a brave, banned book

-Kat

Documentary Filmmaking is not for control freaks or cripples

Last week I went up to Powell River, where I was supposed to film some things. Communication was sketchy that first week and I didn’t fully understand what I’d be doing until the end of the weekend — namely, a ten-minute documentary — but regardless, I got some good shots.

A new camera was in order, as the one I was using was 12 years old and guess what — they don’t make tape for it anymore. (We do have access to a firewire to grab the two hours of tape I did manage to shoot, so that’s all good.) As was a new tripod, because when you take long sabbaticals from filmmaking and move a bunch things go missing.

I had to film in an elementary school where Margriet Ruurs was doing workshops on poetry as part of the International Peace Poem Walkers’ Association’s Youth Peace Poem Competition and literacy initiative. The documentary itself is about the Youth Peace Poem Competition and how it — and the workshops funded by it — have positive impacts on the kids and the community.

[The showing of the documentary will be on May 31st, during the awards ceremony. For pretty much every weekend in May I’ll be in Powell River filming and editing, and I have class from 9-4 on Mondays and Wednesdays in Nanaimo (my final class before graduation with my BA).]

First lesson about documentaries: they are organic creatures. You can set out with an idea of what you want to say, and how you want to say it, but you won’t actually know for sure how it’ll play out until you’ve started filming. Buy enough film (or memory, I guess, is how they do it on the new future cameras they got) to canvas an entire continent, every day, all day for several months. And about ten extra batteries.

Second lesson:  you have to be ready for action. That means you must be able to catch things on the spur of the moment; have to be able to drive anywhere, get into any sort of position, run with your camera.

Third lesson: it is like herding cats. Especially when you’re filming in an elementary school, just saying.

Things you should know about me:

  • I am a control freak the likes of which would scare Monica Gellar.
  • I am crippled. Or, you know, disabled, non-able-bodied, whatever is the most acceptable term. I prefer the term cripple, because it’s how I feel. (Also it creates a bit of an alliteration in the title of this blog post, which is important to me.) I also have a lot of chronic health issues, which adds to the feeling. Regardless, the point is I cannot run with a camera; I walk with a cane; I am not able-bodied enough to really be ready for action. I am also a dense thicket in marshy land.

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