Recovery and Loss

•October 1, 2011 • Leave a Comment

This week I remembered that I had a lens for my dSLR that I haven’t used in over a year, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had it, and exactly where it was. When I first got the dSLR, it’d been the lens I’d used almost exclusively, but when I switched it into the camera body, I couldn’t remember for the life of me why I’d liked it.

Until I remembered I could switch it to a really tight focal length, and I loves me a tight focal length. I shot at Cali’s dress-up birthday party last weekend, and the next day whilst hanging out with Ruth F. Kohtz, and then somehow managed to break the lens in half while focusing last night. My supersmart roomie says the lens is not repairable by human efforts, but the internet says that the lens can be purchased for a little over a hundred dollars pretty easily. Not the most fun, but not the biggest tragedy, either.

Colorful Cali

Handsome Aaron

Intense Rachel

My favorite robot

Ruth F. Kohtz

Ward

Bikes outside the spyhouse

End of Summer

•September 17, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Here in the midst of my first autumnal cold, I am saying goodbye to summer and knuckling down for a lot of writing work for the fall and winter.

Goodbye summer dresses
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Goodbye sitting on the front steps
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Goodbye rooftop drinks
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Goodbye hot nights
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Goodbye dewy mornings
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Minnesota doesn’t mess around with temperatures in between 60° and 90°- we went straight from tanktops to scarves. I don’t really have time to complain though, between the show I have to get my energy up for tonight, Literary Death Match, and Twin Cities Speakeasy, as well as hosting Punch Out Poetry and maybe finding a new, Minneapolis home for it. I’m still working on the novel, the tea poems, and now am also working with a local musician/composer to build a libretto. I’ve never really collaborated on a piece with music, so I’m nervous and excited. Cbot and I have antics planned well into this mess called autumn, too.

I feel like I did a good job at having a great summer, but the weather’s turned her back on us, and doesn’t seem to be coming back.
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Gears, Moving

•July 26, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Things are good, writing-wise and otherwise. I’m learning some things about being a fiction writer.

Rule #1 of being a fiction writer: Don’t talk about being a fiction writer.
Okay, that might be overstating it a little, but I am encountering something that I’d never encountered when I was working on poetry. When I talked to folks in the past, about challenges or obstacles I was encountering as a poetry writer, people listened and were encouraging, but didn’t say much about it. Now, I need to be careful not to say there are ANY challenges- I have had four, lovely, well meaning, amazing friends try to “fix” my novel for me. For whatever reason, poetry was too intimidating, or fiction is too glamourous, but really unsolicited advice seems to have a magnetic attraction to novel-writing. I know some of it is friends wanting to be helpful, but it ends up feeling like having someone try to write your book for you. Ultimately, I’ve learned my lesson. If you don’t want advice, then you must never reveal that there are any flaws in your fiction-writing. (Dear friends who have super-kindly offered advice, I probably could have said something to you at the time rather than being all passive agressive like this, don’t sweat it, it’s not a big deal, I’m learning what it is that I want.) If you only say positive, victorious things about your fiction writing, people will generally only say “I’m excited to read it!” Which, if you are me, is exactly what you want.

Rule #2: Your best characters may well disgust you. That is not to say they’re unlikeable- they just might be people you’d personally despise, people who would get under your skin, people who remind you about the things you hate about yourself. Years ago, I wrote a fictional character in a blog that served as the whole of her existence; we interacted, and because I was her author, she knew all about me, and could push my buttons better than any real human being- without giving her a world she could interact with and change, I made her interact and change me- a weird sort of self-outside-the-self that created some of my best writing, and made me feel like an utter nut. At any rate, take your biggest flaws and turn them up a few decibels, take the things you dislike about yourself, and make them vibrant and powerful, and you’ll have amazing characters who are hyperreal and will drive you batty. They are not obstacles or problems- they ARE the story.

Rule #3: Your mood will change your writing. What you’re reading will change your writing. The time of day you write during, say it with me now, will change your writing. What you’ve eaten? What you’re watching? Where you sleep, who you sleep with, what you did at work today, all of these things: Life will change your writing. Accept it. Ride that wave. You can make edits later. You may find you have to rewrite entire scenes or chapters or everything, but you will have discovered what you were looking for along the way. The chapter that turned out dark because of the thunderstorm, the jittery dialogue caused by drinking too much coffee, don’t fight it, ride it.

Rule #4: Commit to doing something new. This is my personal rule for me. I’m not certain how successful I will be at achieving it- but I am confident that I can tell an old story a new way, or take an old form and stuff something unexpected into it. It’ll come. I’m not without influences of course, but the idea is to be conscious of what my influences are, and how I’m using them.

So, down to what am I up to, writing-wise: I’m working on a novel, set in Minneapolis- the idea is to make it obvious, the stuff that I’m making up entirely, the stuff that’s based on something, the stuff that’s an amalgamation of the two. Well, yes this place is quite definitely the Bryant Lake Bowl, but this Bryant Lake Bowl is one where you could fit a grand piano in the wings of the theatre, which isn’t the case in real life.* That sort of thing. There’s a lot going on, and the story isn’t really started-started, but as I was falling asleep last night, I figured a lot of things out, and managed to actually remember them upon waking. At lunch today, I sketched out what the scenes needed to be to get me through the next chunks of writing, so I’ve got a lot of actual writing work to do. It’s good, if I can keep myself on course to get the writing done.

*for the purposes of legality- the places and people in the book are entirely fictional, obviously- none of the things I’m writing about have actually taken place, none of the people are real people, etc. etc. etc. But hopefully the book will end up giving folks the strong sense of being in Minneapolis.

Non-writing, things are going well, too. Busy at work, busy after work, things are going swimmingly with the boy, I don’t have any more writing/performing dates for the next two months, so hopefully I can get a lot of creative work done. Rob Callahan has challenged me to Literary Death Match in October, which is pretty exciting; it is the right combination of professional and ridiculous. I’m working on fixing up a new-to-me old bike, I am enjoying the lakes and the summer, board games and Misfits, my tomato plants are enjoying the alternating heat and downpours.

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Again, I’ve been remiss.

•June 21, 2011 • Leave a Comment

But I haven’t been unoccupied.

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Beyond getting back on the caffeine habit, knitting a citrusy bright baby blanket, and attending Charlie’s band’s show, I’ve been quite busy. If you know me, you know this is not new.

Impending summer and having succeeded in dialing back my slam involvement and social presence at… everything… has helped me to feel less overwhelmed and at odds with the world, more like being involved in everything. Or maybe just reasonable amounts of the things that I want to be involved with. A few well-defined writing projects that I’m working on and excited about.

I’m working on poems for Cheap Theatre’s “With and Without” show, each of which is about being without something- and uses none of the letter of the alphabet that I most associate with that missing thing. It’s been challenging enough for me to completely ignore the “who’s my audience” question, and the pieces that have come out of it are really nice. It’s interesting to try to write poems about being “without” and give them different tones- not variations around the theme of emptiness or need or want.

I’m also helping MN0 kids work on a project that has a handful of fictional characters worked into it. Group projects are exciting and frustrating, equal parts. I keep coming up with interesting storylines and then having to amend or discard them… I should keep track of them for future use.

I also took some time to work with Heather AKA Heather, on writing some new and really gutsy poems. I occasionally feel like I have some insight in what has become rote, and how it can be turned fresh and clever- I’m hoping that aiming Heather’s talents at something she doesn’t usually do will both extend her range and change the status quo. If she doesn’t come through, I’m going to have to try to learn from her strengths and try to do it myself.

New Helmet

I got a helmet this weekend, after taking a pretty great flight over my handlebars and directly into Loring Park- between that and knowing that being cavalier about biking when I have a coworker who was disabled in a biking accident, it seemed just sort of inappropriate to keep going bareheaded. We’ll see if it drives me crazy or is okay- I got a cute green one that is more of a skater style.

Tomorrow I’m going to Connecticut for work… I’ve never been there before and have no idea what it’s like.

Laters!
Cole

Words are Hard.

•May 14, 2011 • Leave a Comment

I’m dialing back, more and more. I don’t know who my audience is, I don’t know exactly why it is that I’m writing. I know that I’m no good at quitting it; I gave up giving up a while ago, but for as much as I feel no one is listening, I’m going to go with journalling. If I’m my audience, I may as well not be an exhibitionist about it.

I don’t have any grant apps out right now; I don’t have any submissions out. I’ve written four or five little poems in the past few days, something about knowing I have no intentions of competing with them- they’re not beautiful or elegant or world-changing. They’re just some little pieces.

I have a performance at Cheap Theatre on the 25th of June. A show called “With and Without”, which should be simple enough to find poems for, if I cannot write new pieces.

I performed at a show called “Silence and the Sound” at the Black Dog, curated by Desdamona, and sponsored by the St. Paul Almanac, this past Monday. The gig mashed up spoken word and sign language, which was kind of amazing, and though it didn’t go exactly as planned, went off beautifully. It was a great event, all of the poets were women, the signer was a woman, the camera ops were women, the organizer was a woman. It was nice. It was a good moment to say, I’m removing myself from slam a ways. I want to do something really honest, something that I know why I’m doing it.

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Long Time, No Write

•December 5, 2010 • 1 Comment

This is true on a number of levels.

I haven’t updated in quite a while. I’m not writing as much as I ought to be, but my storyteller friends have assured me I’m just fallowing my fields. That may be true, but there’s a lot you’ve missed, because I was too overwhelmed. Let’s do a quick montage.

Erotic Slam at the AQ:
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Cross-Dressing Slam at Echo:
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The Punch Out Poetry retreat:
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A photoshoot for Alice’s new book:
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The National Poetry Slam:
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Burning Man:
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An AQ slam:
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Something treasured:
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Elle Faunt:
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Cali’s Japan themed birthday:
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Thadra’s feature show:
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Punch Out’s second season opener:
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Charlie’s Puzzlequest:
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Autumn colors:
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Cupcakes:
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Running amok with Ruth:
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Erin’s Birthday:
Walk Like An Egyptian

Poetry tour:
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A SlamMN! Slam:
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TalkStory spoken word sampler:
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Another POP slam:
Pop Competitors 11-28

A visit back to South Dakota:
South Dakota Pinups

I’m sure there’ve been more things. But I’m feeling less and less like I’m actually involved in events that I photograph. And that my photography is taken for granted frequently by poets- maybe I’m just fallowing all my fields for a while.

It’s Oh So Busy…. It’s Oh So Soon…

•July 18, 2010 • Leave a Comment

1. Thursday: Walker Open Field with the other local slam teams.
http://walkerart.org/openfield/ (Mpls)

2. Friday: Hip Hop Against Homophobia (Volume 6), at the Bedlam at 10:30pm in Mpls.

3. Riot Act Readings: Sunday at 8pm at the Turf Club in St. Paul.

4. Geek Slam: Tuesday the 27th at (new) Kieran’s in Block E in Mpls.

5. Cross-Dressing Slam: Friday the 30th at Echo Arts, 275 4th street E. (Located in the basement, suite B200. Please use the back alley door from Wall st.), Saint Paul, MN

6. The Erotic Slam: Monday the 2nd Sunday the 1st at the AQ in St. Paul.

7. National Poetry Slam Prelims: Tuesday the 3rd at the AQ in St. Paul (versus St. Paul’s own Soapboxing team, the reigning champs, NYC Urbana, and Baton Rouge’s Eclectic Truth.) at 7pm.

8. National Poetry Slam Prelims: Wednesday the 4th at the AQ in St. Paul (versus SlamRichmond and both of the North Carolina teams.) at 9pm.

9? 10? Semis? Finals? (We’ve got hard (amazing) prelim bouts, so it’s a bit doubtful, but we’ll be there, supporting and rocking out with our poet friends regardless of whether we’re competing with them as well.)

11. Hosting some sort of slam at a literary day somewhere in Wisconsin August 14th.

So, I’m busy. I’ve gone on a couple of dates with a sweet, funny boy. I photographed a hip hop heavy wedding and am editing the nearly 3000 photographs I took that day. I put together slam team chapbooks for the Punch Out Poetry slam team. My own Army of Nursery Rhymes chapbook is going to finally come back from the printers this week, it sounds like. My little sister sent me earrings and a necklace as a rather belated birthday present, and I like them a TON. CON being over, I can now read what I want to on my long commutes to work, and am reading a big ole biography. Anyhow, not much time for more updates. Getting back to editing photos now.

See some of you soon at some of these events, hopefully. I’m putting on the cross-dressing slam, and would LOVE to have you there to support ($7, goes to paying me back for the registration fees for our slam team.)

Punch Out Squad vs The End of the World

Pressed

•May 22, 2010 • 1 Comment

So, I’ve gotten reviewed, though I’ll admit they’re both people I know, they were willing to vouch for me publicly, which is more than I say for myself most days!

l’étoile magazine says:
“Sarar brought off a modern retooling of some timeless tales, seasoned with the energy of a slam veteran and the smart vision of a smart girl in a simple world, combining moth-style storytelling with Judy Tenuta’s delivery and all of the charm and darkness you would expect from Gaiman.”

My friend m’s blog (he works for Macmillan Publishers) says:
Faerie tales set on their side, retold with a cunning eye & a canny ear. Inky’s not afraid to lay down some beats: poems like “Cinderella” demand to be read aloud, the cadence luminous & dribbling off the letters.

Whoop whoop!

So, that said, I’m up to my eyeballs in to-do lists that do and do not have to do with being a writer. More details later! We’ll see how much I want to avoid packing for the move across town.

Little sneary smile of mine

Chapbook Release Party!

•March 28, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Flyer

Thursday, April 8th, 2010
8pm – 9:30pm
Kieran’s Irish Pub (New Block E location!)
600 Hennepin Ave Ste 170 (corners of 6th St & 1st Ave N)
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Poet and spoken word organizer Cole “Inky” Sarar releases her first book of poetry, retelling, reinventing, and creating new fairytales and nursery rhymes. Joined by world-class poets and performers, come celebrate with us. Shá Cage, Kyle “Guante” Myhre, Wonder Dave, Aimee Renaud, Khary “6 is 9″ Jackson, Ruth F. Kohtz, and Beruch Porass-Hernandez are among the performers who will be bringing something to the celebration.

We’ll be taking over the new Kieran’s location, in their aptly named Poet’s Corner. Donations accepted at the door, books will be available for sale with cash or check, for $12. The book is 44 pages long, and each poem has been illustrated by a different, talented artist from around the world- Minneapolis musician and theatre technician Dietrich Poppen, Michigan cartoonist and illustrator Meredith Rogers, L.A. illustrator and collage artist Aaron Edelson, Saint Paul set designer Andrea Heilman, and Chilean illustrator and web comic writer Juan Santapau are among the artists represented.

“not just the quiet chronicler of the scene, but a luminary” – MinnPost

Finding Ada: Heroine

•March 23, 2010 • 1 Comment

I decided to write a poem about Ada Lovelace a) for Ada Lovelace Day on Wednesday and b) because it’d fit into that sciencey sort of poem that I need to write tons of for the grant this autumn. Without knowing much about her aside of the fibs we told about her involvement with tiny shanty, I didn’t know what I was getting into. Read a lot about her and her parents, got too caught up in all the heredity of poetry and mathematics, and wrote this over-dense poem. Maybe a new one tomorrow that is a little more approachable, a little less unnavigable. I like so much of this but it is too, too dense. Also, there was a sassy bit about Barbie that was just inappropriate in this poem. There are always the failed poems that are still close to our hearts.

She walks in beauty like a sequence of numbers
simplifying the fundamental theorem of calculus.
She formulates rebellion from her mother’s worries,
writes poems in elegant equations, mother’s heart
is egg yolk spilled wet in amniotic fluid.
Ada wipes her up with a damp cloth and goes dancing.

They say father was mad, bad, and dangerous to know,
but mother and Ada cannot help loving him.
So we’ll go no more a-roving in literary circles,
we’ve heard his name spoken, and shared in its shame.
Dainty Ada outgrows her abacus and writes sonnets
for machines, she is waltzing algorhythmic elegance.

She calculates beauty in possibility, took mother’s numbers
and Babbage’s unfinished engines into dreams of weaving art
from punched paper dance cards- this loom could produce
music, she knows. Its weft could pen nursery rhymes;
Ada speaks contraption like simile, mathematics is metaphor.

Unearthing a new language, Babbage’s dance card
could become terabyte and wintermute.
A woman speaks breath into bot, we will call her programmer,
and centuries later, let’s give her genius to girls
who will walk in intelligence like the night,
of ceilingless heavens, and unimaginable skies.

Finding Ada

 
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