My weekend

Since Thursday, I have been in Oriskany (O-RIS-can-knee) New York, at the New York State Preparedness Training Center, doing moulage on willing victims for training purposes.

I’m in my usual post-event daze, made more intense by working under a professional moulage artist with twenty years experience. I learned how to make my injuries even better, how to work with plaster molds, latex and gelatin to make convincing wounds, and how to get wax wounds to stick (I work mostly in wax).

Hope exercises (Missouri Hope, New York Hope, Atlantic Hope and the new ones coming down the pike) are intense. The participants are assigned to teams, and the teams work to solve problems in search and rescue, triage and first aid, and incident command. They are placed in realistic scenarios and have to solve them on the spot. Complications thrown into the scenarios make the participants think on their feet.

There are at least as many staff members as participants — team controller/evaluators, who advise the participant teams, lane controller/evaluators, who run the scenario lanes, logistics personnel, subject matter experts, exercise director and staff, roleplayers —

And the moulage staff, who are looked at with a certain awe.

I’m bone-tired. It’s been an intense couple of days, which I wouldn’t trade for anything, because they’ve given me the opportunity to improve. I’m not sure if I’m making any sense here; I hope so. Thanks for reading.

Moulage day

He looked better before I beat him up.

This is what I came to do. This is moulage.

Second and third degree burns are done with unflavored gelatin and grease paints.

This is the most unalloyed creativity I get to do in my life. No worries about whether I’m doing well enough, whether anyone notices my work, whether I’m accomplishing anything — people tell me that me and my crew are freaking out everyone out there.

I’m an insecure person at times. I can ignore it when I try to get a novel published because I’m so excited about the creative process. But when the rejections come in, I wonder what I’m doing trying to get published in the first place.

With moulage, I will never be renowned. I will never work in Hollywood. I’m good enough and cheap enough (free) that people will need me to do the stuff I do. I have lost this in writing, where I keep saying “If I were good, I’d get an agent/get on Amazon Scout’s hot list/get published” because people CARE about successful authors.

In other words, moulage is a return to my childhood (in which I was a lot like Marcie). Writing has become the struggle of being heard as an adult.

Welcome to the Hotel Atlantica. Cots optional.

Another day in Atlantica. We had our first round of beans and rice, supplemented by Cuban pork to weep for, with crackling skin and deep flavor. We will likely eat beans and rice without it tonight. Remember us as you drink your coffee — It’s 6 AM and there’s no coffee to be seen. And we have no way to get out of Atlantica.

No, Atlantic Hope is still some of the most fun I have all year. The people who volunteer to run the show are emergency personnel from various ares — one Brigadier General, a retired Navy Seal, nurses, humanitarian aid workers, firefighters, security personnel — and me, a pacifist who feels uneasy when people talk about their weapons like beloved racehorses. But they need us, because they don’t think they have the talent to do casualty simulation or, perhaps think it’s not as important as what they do. It is, after all, makeup, which is girly stuff.

I don’t really know if I have as much talent as they think I do. Richard and I get geeeted regularly during the exercise with “Really love your work!” We’re self-taught. Richard studied under me. I,d love to get more training but most of it is driven by the various companies who make Moulage products. We are not makeup artists.

But I’m here, and they need me, and when I’m in the flow of creativity, none of the above matters. I’m here doing something I love.

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Twenty-seven days left, and it already looks bleak for my campaign. Thank you if you’ve nominated me; 357 nominations is more than I thought, and less than I need. It seems a brutal way of getting discovered, though, and I know I may not be writing what people want to read, but thank you. https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/250Q7OJ0R0F8W

Welcome to Atlantica

I’m typing this from the borders of Atlantica, the imaginary country
People from the Consortium for Humanitarian Service and Education will be creating for the training of some 50 individuals.

Atlantica is a troubled country. Freshly out of a war with a neighboring nation, Atlantica is riddled with corrupt officials, suspicious factions, and cholera. Then Atlantica gets hit by an earthquake, and our humanitarian aid teams navigate the red tape, vague threats from officials, and diseases rampant in the area to negotiate aid for the fragile country.

The idea behind CHSE’s exercises is to create a realistic exercise so that the participants can learn under pressure, make mistakes, and get advice from controller-evaluators so they can retry the encounter.

My job is to create realism. I’m the coordinator of the Moulage crew, and my crew supplies realism through simulated injuries and illnesses. We go for as much medical realism as we can produce with stage makeup and fake blood. None of our trainees have vomited yet, but we once sent someone to a hospital for a drill and he was seconds away from getting an IV.

Moulage is one of my favorite creative outlets. My husband and I have a little competition as to who’s grossing out people the most realistically. His specialty is degloving injuries, mine is deep burns. We learn from the nurses, medics, and zombie aficionados we encounter on our crews. And it’s worth sleeping on the floor and eating the Atlantican national dish, rice and beans, for four days.

I wish you could be here in sunny Atlantica.

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Just a reminder that my Kindle Scout campaign is live. If you want to nominate the book, go through the whole nomination process:

https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/250Q7OJ0R0F8W

Another (Moulage) Gig in my Future

When I talk about “gigs”, I’m not talking about music (I play Irish bodhran, but not well), comedy (my comedy career is restricted to teaching), or acting (my theatre career began and ended in high school). I’m talking about my other creative outlet, moulage.

Moulage is, as I may have said before, casualty simulation — or as I like to say it, gorifying people. Injuries are rendered by a combination of theatre makeup materials, homemade makeup, props, fake glass, sticks and pipes for impalements, and lots of skill and imagination.

This is done for the benefit of training community emergency response team (CERT) members, first responders, nurses, and humanitarian aid workers. I also provide my skills to high school safety docudramas, active shooter training, and creating zombies (although I’m not nearly as good at the latter as is my friend Rod Zirkle.)

I am entirely self-taught. I was recruited for moulage crew as an assistant in Missouri Hope (one of the CHSE exercises below) in 2013. I dithered around a lot, and the next year I was recruited as the moulage coordinator for Missouri Hope. With absolutely no real training, I studied injury pictures and makeup and that DVD from Simulaids where they practice all the techniques on a straight-faced student.

This gig is a big one — a major humanitarian service training program in Florida. You can learn a little about Atlantic Hope and the Consortium for Humanitarian Service and Education (CHSE) here. I will spend three days sleeping on the floor, eating beans and rice and bad coffee, and modeling burns for free (but I love it!) I will be trying to report from the field Wednesday-Monday.

Here’s an example of my work from last year’s Atlantic Hope:

Building up a burn.

Finished product. Beneath the skin, we’re all pinkish. This is not meant to be a profound statement.

I’m a perfectionist. If I had to do this again, I would not put the black at the outside, because it doesn’t look like soot, but third-degree burn (which it isn’t if it’s at the outer edge. I would slather it in thick gelatin around the edges and over the pink parts to give it a more three-dimensional look and maybe build up some blisters with gelatin.

I’ll be honest — I think I keep getting gigs because nobody’s found anyone else locally who claims to do moulage. I think I have about six gigs a year. Let’s see: Missouri Hope, New York Hope, Atlantic Hope, CERT training in the spring, the prison simulation and night training for the Emergency and Disaster Management students, and the high school docudrama. I guess that’s seven. I sometimes also do moulage for the Emergency Medical Responder testing, nurses’ training, and the active shooter training on campus.

It’s a lot of fun and I feel appreciated when I do this. I lead a crew of about 4-6 people (including my husband), I create better and better works through learning and studying moulage, and my time goes toward the greater good. It’s a largely anonymous job — you’ll never see pictures of me in any of the CHSE promotionals, and I’m subsumed as a member of the “moulage crew”. But when people compliment the moulage, I know that I’ve contributed my skills in moulage and teaching to the rest of the crew.

Cross-training in creativity

I have been quiet lately, as I’ve warned, because I’ve just finished one of the most rewarding events of my year: Missouri Hope, the major Emergency and Disaster Management training where I live. As I’ve said before, I’m the moulage coordinator, which means I supervise a half-dozen people in making our roleplayers look suitably injured. I also moulage, usually the most complex injuries — although this year, my crew did me proud by simulating impalements, open fractures, and eviscerations on their own.

I’ve been thinking about cross-training. Cross-training is the practice of incorporating physical exercise in areas other than one’s primary sport or exercise regimen. It’s incorporating cardio with weightlifting or walking with running. Without cross-training, one set of muscles can overdevelop while another set weakens, destroying stride, balance, and strength.

Do writers need to cross-train? I think so, especially when suffering from writers’ block. There are many creative arts, some soothing, some complex, some simple. I would suggest activities that have a little bit of challenge so as not to be boring, while providing a sense of mastery, because these activities add an important quality to your life — that of flow, a type of active meditation.

I don’t want to put journaling in here, because that exercises the same muscles. But how about knitting or crocheting, fingerpainting, sketching, sidewalk chalking, dancing, karate, crafts, mask-making, improv, or — or moulage? 🙂

Short post — Moulage and External Validation

I may not be writing as much this week, because this is my big week for performing moulage. If I haven’t mentioned it, moulage is casualty simulation for emergency workers. This week I do two events — a small one this morning where I help out with the high school’s annual docudrama where they hammer home the consequences of drinking/texting while driving. Richard and I will moulage seven high schoolers.

This Friday-Sunday is the big event, Missouri Hope. The biggest of the Hope exercises held by Consortium for Humanitarian Service and Education, we will moulage about 200 people by the time we’re done. I will have a bigger crew, perhaps 8 per day, and I will provide hands-on training while we create victims — all simulated injuries of course — of a major tornado so that emergency personnel and students can use their skills in a realistic scenario.

I have developed a reputation for this among the CHSE exercises, which makes me happy. I know I can do better, and I always try to do better. In that way, it’s like writing, but I feel more secure about it because I have external validation. And external validation is one of the biggest motivators there is.

My colleagues call me the Queen of Gore. What better external validation is that?

Learn Everything

Everything a writer learns will help their writing.

First example: after twenty-something years of teaching college students, I’ve learned that classes get categorized in three groups: “I loved that class”, “It was okay”, and “Why did I have to take that class?” The number one class in the third category was Philosophy, otherwise known as “that class where you argue totally unimportant things”. I sympathized with these students because I’d taken philosophy myself. I had discovered the purpose of philosophy was to come up with a internally coherent argument about unseen and unknown things. There’s no way to objectively test if your argument is correct. (in the words of my mother, “What difference does it make if we have free will or not? We can’t change it!”)

When I took philosophy, I said what countless other students said — “what am I going to use this for?” Years later, I started writing novels, which required different skills than short stories and poetry. Because I wrote fantasy, I had to build talents and powers and magic and the like that were internally consistent. (Trust me, Harry Potter fans have convinced me that every single discrepancy in magic will be noted by the readers — Just look up “Elder Wand” and you’ll get an earful.) The jump from internally consistent arguments to internally consistent magic systems wasn’t that big. So now I finally get to use philosophy for something useful!

Another example: Moulage. According to my annual report last year, I am a nationally recognized moulage expert. (This means I’ve been moulage coordinator for two (going on three) of the disaster training exercises for the Consortium for Humanitarian Service and Education.) Moulage, by the way, is otherwise known as casualty simulation. Yes, that means I make ordinary people look like victims for emergency and disaster training. I taught myself how to do this after some lovely people mistook me for an expert, and I keep getting better as I go. But the reason I mention it here is because I have had to study many, many gory pictures to do my art — closed abdominal injury, disembowelments, burns, open and closed fractures, gunshots … If people get wounded or killed in my writing, I either know what the carnage looks like or I look it up.

In short, a writer can’t say “I’ll never use that”, because that most arcane or useless bit of information can, and will, come in handy.
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If you’ve read this far: I will be taking the train out to upstate New York on Wednesday to serve as Moulage Coordinator for the third exercise in the CHSE series, New York Hope. I hope to have time to write, even on the train. I would post pictures of my handiwork, but it’s … gross.