Sunday, March 29, 2009
Up to Bat
Some days I can't figure out if I'm going strong or going too long.
I have developed a list of things to do that energizes me and it has really helped to get me out of my slump that I've been feeling for the past week. The only problem is that these motivating things are all new things and doing them with a single-minded passion is leaving other things undone. Important things. Like term papers.
Or at least like the first seven pages of a term paper draft that is due on Monday.
At the encouragement of my professor I have set to work investigating journals and submitting three different pieces. Her assertion is that I should submit to a minimum of twenty journals and if they all say 'no' then, and only then, should I think about revising these three pieces. Sounds good to me!
She names this as her number, but it makes me think of an interview with Benjamin Percy I read in Poets&Writers a year or two ago. I had never heard Percy's name before -- and haven't heard it since -- but his short story "Refresh, Refresh" (originally published in the Paris Review) won the Pushcart Prize for 2006. He said that as an MFA candidate he watched his more talented peers give up after receiving a dozen rejects. Some stuck it out to about twenty. They took it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be and stuck the story in a drawer never to send it out again. Percy had over forty rejections for a single story -- he was well on his way to fifty -- when he finally got it published.
His lesson was in persistence.
I am, by no means, daunted by the thought of forty submissions for a single story. In my mind, this is just the process. It's all a matter of getting the right story to the right editor at the right time. (Assuming, of course, that it's not crap to begin with.) And even if the story is not crap, that's a lot of things that have to fall into alignment. Or, if talk of chance and alignment freak you out, think of it in terms of batting average. The really great hitters only pull scores in the .300s -- they hit less than one out of three pitches. That means they are just as likely to strike out anytime they get up to the plate. Now, I -- like anyone else -- would love to get a hit in one out of three story submissions, but we're also talking about professionals here. From here my mixed metaphor peters out, but hopefully you already get my uber-hopeful drift; basically, I'm game for whatever comes next.
Thursday I took myself off to the library to print out copies. I spent the commercial breaks during Grey's Anatomy doing the self-addressed part of SASE. I now have a little stash of them. Today I took myself off and got another stack of manila mailer envelopes as I had gone through all the ones I found after the move. I sent off manuscripts through electronic uploads and two through snail mail. Two contests, one of which is Gulf Coast.
When possible I've just been uploading documents into the nifty databases that journals keep for their submissions, but the paper and envelope side of this is giving me a proper appreciation as to just how serious I am about these submissions. More serious than I've ever been about anything I've ever submitted before.
Before it was just a passing thought. A fancy. An offhand chance at something. Now, today, this time around: I've researched; I have lists, recommendations; I have contests that I know aren't scams because I finally know the names of journals; I have materials from journals at the AWP bookfair; I have made a binder in which to track both journals and my submissions to them. This time I'm damn serious.
I have developed a list of things to do that energizes me and it has really helped to get me out of my slump that I've been feeling for the past week. The only problem is that these motivating things are all new things and doing them with a single-minded passion is leaving other things undone. Important things. Like term papers.
Or at least like the first seven pages of a term paper draft that is due on Monday.
At the encouragement of my professor I have set to work investigating journals and submitting three different pieces. Her assertion is that I should submit to a minimum of twenty journals and if they all say 'no' then, and only then, should I think about revising these three pieces. Sounds good to me!
She names this as her number, but it makes me think of an interview with Benjamin Percy I read in Poets&Writers a year or two ago. I had never heard Percy's name before -- and haven't heard it since -- but his short story "Refresh, Refresh" (originally published in the Paris Review) won the Pushcart Prize for 2006. He said that as an MFA candidate he watched his more talented peers give up after receiving a dozen rejects. Some stuck it out to about twenty. They took it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be and stuck the story in a drawer never to send it out again. Percy had over forty rejections for a single story -- he was well on his way to fifty -- when he finally got it published.
His lesson was in persistence.
I am, by no means, daunted by the thought of forty submissions for a single story. In my mind, this is just the process. It's all a matter of getting the right story to the right editor at the right time. (Assuming, of course, that it's not crap to begin with.) And even if the story is not crap, that's a lot of things that have to fall into alignment. Or, if talk of chance and alignment freak you out, think of it in terms of batting average. The really great hitters only pull scores in the .300s -- they hit less than one out of three pitches. That means they are just as likely to strike out anytime they get up to the plate. Now, I -- like anyone else -- would love to get a hit in one out of three story submissions, but we're also talking about professionals here. From here my mixed metaphor peters out, but hopefully you already get my uber-hopeful drift; basically, I'm game for whatever comes next.
Thursday I took myself off to the library to print out copies. I spent the commercial breaks during Grey's Anatomy doing the self-addressed part of SASE. I now have a little stash of them. Today I took myself off and got another stack of manila mailer envelopes as I had gone through all the ones I found after the move. I sent off manuscripts through electronic uploads and two through snail mail. Two contests, one of which is Gulf Coast.
When possible I've just been uploading documents into the nifty databases that journals keep for their submissions, but the paper and envelope side of this is giving me a proper appreciation as to just how serious I am about these submissions. More serious than I've ever been about anything I've ever submitted before.
Before it was just a passing thought. A fancy. An offhand chance at something. Now, today, this time around: I've researched; I have lists, recommendations; I have contests that I know aren't scams because I finally know the names of journals; I have materials from journals at the AWP bookfair; I have made a binder in which to track both journals and my submissions to them. This time I'm damn serious.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I Need Suggestions!
What, in a semi-enchanted, semi-haunted, definitely not normal, 150 year old Inn, could a big old skeleton key unlock?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Seasonal Disfunction
The MFA application cycle is coming to an end (in theory). By now everyone should have heard if they're accepted, waitlisted or rejected. If you're like I was and sitting on a waitlist as well as an acceptance list you're feeling icky, scratchy and generally irritable. I hate not being able to let one school know because the other school hasn't made up its mind. I was also (in retrospect, so maybe I still am) irritate by the fact that WMU "accepted me without funding" which they conveyed to me as "waitlisted." Now, if I had known it was just a matter of funding/no funding I could have made a decision weeks prior to the April 15 deadline. As it was, I thought I couldn't come at all unless they had a spot open up with funding. The graduate direct is very adamant about people not going into debt over an MFA, which I appreciate, but as an in-state student I have to admit that this is the closest thing to a free MFA as I can get. Jolie has blogged recently about this, the season of agonizing.
The weather is okay, yet my cabin fever has morphed into something more dangerous. At best I can call it a funk. At worst, it's some sort of depression.
I have in fact, arrived at the point where I either have to confront and fix my "funk" or it will start to have an effect that can't be fixed.
At the moment, I am getting only the bare minimum done that I need to function. Grocery store, cooking, minimal cleaning, meeting deadlines for my two classes with a few hours to spare and doing minimal prepping for the classes I teach.
I spend large chunks of time reading. You would think this is good, right? But it's emotional reading, much like emotional eating. I've devoured 3.5 books in the past six days -- only one of which, a YA novel, was for class. This volume of reading drowns out my need/will/ability to do other necessary activities.
Today I ended up cancelling those two classes with almost no notice for my students (although I say you should always check your email in the morning before you leave to go someplace like school/work; someone may have tried to tell you something important in the wee hours of the morning). I won't get in to why I chose to cancel, but despite the fact that it was symptomatic I hope that in the end it will allow me to fix things.
Being out and about before 8 a.m. -- I had to go in to affix a sign to the door to say class was canceled -- was very, very good for me. For one, it was a peaceful, post-rainstorm morning. I got to collect my wits and my sense of self. I have decided that I am going to make two changes to try and get me out of this whole and one of them is to wake up at 7 a.m. and walk every morning. Lately, I wake at 6 a.m. or 11 a.m. dependent on my need to be somewhere. At 6 it's still dark and at 11 I feel like I'm wasting my day. 7 a.m corresponds with dawn right about now so I'm hoping I can stick with it.
The other change I'm making is to have one hour per day spent wholly and solely on a personal, non-academic writing project. That sounds and feels great. However, I'm nervous about this because I don't have a personal project going right now. There's nothing I'm currently invested in, although there are projects I had to set aside that I could pick back up. One way or another, I will have to decide and develop a personal project, and do it soon, hopefully.
I thought about making other changes, about mandating how much time per day I spend grading or other such work. But I don't want to attempt one of those giant life-restructurings that fails a few days in because it's just too big of a change.
The weather is okay, yet my cabin fever has morphed into something more dangerous. At best I can call it a funk. At worst, it's some sort of depression.
I have in fact, arrived at the point where I either have to confront and fix my "funk" or it will start to have an effect that can't be fixed.
At the moment, I am getting only the bare minimum done that I need to function. Grocery store, cooking, minimal cleaning, meeting deadlines for my two classes with a few hours to spare and doing minimal prepping for the classes I teach.
I spend large chunks of time reading. You would think this is good, right? But it's emotional reading, much like emotional eating. I've devoured 3.5 books in the past six days -- only one of which, a YA novel, was for class. This volume of reading drowns out my need/will/ability to do other necessary activities.
Today I ended up cancelling those two classes with almost no notice for my students (although I say you should always check your email in the morning before you leave to go someplace like school/work; someone may have tried to tell you something important in the wee hours of the morning). I won't get in to why I chose to cancel, but despite the fact that it was symptomatic I hope that in the end it will allow me to fix things.
Being out and about before 8 a.m. -- I had to go in to affix a sign to the door to say class was canceled -- was very, very good for me. For one, it was a peaceful, post-rainstorm morning. I got to collect my wits and my sense of self. I have decided that I am going to make two changes to try and get me out of this whole and one of them is to wake up at 7 a.m. and walk every morning. Lately, I wake at 6 a.m. or 11 a.m. dependent on my need to be somewhere. At 6 it's still dark and at 11 I feel like I'm wasting my day. 7 a.m corresponds with dawn right about now so I'm hoping I can stick with it.
The other change I'm making is to have one hour per day spent wholly and solely on a personal, non-academic writing project. That sounds and feels great. However, I'm nervous about this because I don't have a personal project going right now. There's nothing I'm currently invested in, although there are projects I had to set aside that I could pick back up. One way or another, I will have to decide and develop a personal project, and do it soon, hopefully.
I thought about making other changes, about mandating how much time per day I spend grading or other such work. But I don't want to attempt one of those giant life-restructurings that fails a few days in because it's just too big of a change.
(Ad)Verbs
Notes on Craft
Today my students and I will talk about "verbs that zing" and ones that "wimp out" courtesy of Patricia O'Conner and her lovely book on writing Words Fail Me
. She also wrote Woe Is I
(grammar for grammarphobes) which I have just obtained a copy of but have not yet read. One of these will be assigned in its entirety to my students next fall.
O'Conner is witty. She talks about verbs that feel like a dead fish or a limp handshake. Why say fell quickly when plummeted serves your purpose so much more aptly and in one less word?
Which brings us to the Stephen King quote from On Writing, seen at the top of this post: adverbs are not your friend.
I will reiterate what King and O'Conner and many a creative writing instructor has said: if you have to say it with an adverb then you're not saying it right.
Adverbs clutter up the writing as they attempt to make up for lackluster verbs. By definition, the job of an adverb is to modify the verb so that the meaning is altered. But there are so many great verbs out there to use plain, why attach modifiers to them? It's like buying a low end computer and then buying an upgrade for the motherboard, some kick ass speakers and replacing the monitor, then getting one of those ergonomic keyboards. Why didn't you just spend the money getting a nicer computer than spend the same about of money (in addition to your time searching out those "extras") as you did with the piecemeal contraption you've now made?
"Adverbs are not your friend."
- Stephen King
Today my students and I will talk about "verbs that zing" and ones that "wimp out" courtesy of Patricia O'Conner and her lovely book on writing Words Fail Me. She also wrote Woe Is I (grammar for grammarphobes) which I have just obtained a copy of but have not yet read. One of these will be assigned in its entirety to my students next fall.O'Conner is witty. She talks about verbs that feel like a dead fish or a limp handshake. Why say fell quickly when plummeted serves your purpose so much more aptly and in one less word?
Which brings us to the Stephen King quote from On Writing, seen at the top of this post: adverbs are not your friend.
I will reiterate what King and O'Conner and many a creative writing instructor has said: if you have to say it with an adverb then you're not saying it right.
Adverbs clutter up the writing as they attempt to make up for lackluster verbs. By definition, the job of an adverb is to modify the verb so that the meaning is altered. But there are so many great verbs out there to use plain, why attach modifiers to them? It's like buying a low end computer and then buying an upgrade for the motherboard, some kick ass speakers and replacing the monitor, then getting one of those ergonomic keyboards. Why didn't you just spend the money getting a nicer computer than spend the same about of money (in addition to your time searching out those "extras") as you did with the piecemeal contraption you've now made?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Opera Details
I've already mentioned that "Cake" is now an opera about to be performed in NYC. What I didn't mention (what I didn't realize!) is that it's now an award winning op
era about to be performed in NYC! John
John (the composer) entered his score and libretto into a composition competition and now the opera is part of the Remarkable Theater Brigade's "No Shirts No Skirts No Service, and other short operas and scenes" festival.
It is part of a festival of short operas: "No Shirts No Skirts No Service: and other short operas and scenes"
Hosted by: The Remarkable Theater Brigade
Where: Jimmy's No. 43 (downstairs) 43 E, 7th St, NYC
Time: Saturday, April 4 at 7:00pm (professional cast)
Friday, April 3 (student cast)
Search for it on Facebook!
era about to be performed in NYC! JohnJohn (the composer) entered his score and libretto into a composition competition and now the opera is part of the Remarkable Theater Brigade's "No Shirts No Skirts No Service, and other short operas and scenes" festival.
It is part of a festival of short operas: "No Shirts No Skirts No Service: and other short operas and scenes"
Hosted by: The Remarkable Theater Brigade
Where: Jimmy's No. 43 (downstairs) 43 E, 7th St, NYC
Time: Saturday, April 4 at 7:00pm (professional cast)
Friday, April 3 (student cast)
Search for it on Facebook!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Post-Reading Report
The reading went well. I can't be more enthusiastic than that but none of my fears came to pass. I did not read to the barista. In fact, we filled the front room of the coffee shop. But I have given other readings that felt much better and that stirred better responses (with the same material) so I can't jump up and down saying how great it was. It's good for me that I didn't perform like a superstar -- I needed to be humbled. I needed to have it proved to me that I should have prepared more like I did for my three prior readings.
It's also good of me to read before an unsympathetic audience. Yes, these people wanted to come to a fiction/poetry reading (some for extra credit) but few of them felt the pains of having to get up there after me and perform. It's in that terror of public performance that we build bonds and become better audiences.
Maybe I'm being too morose. After all, I didn't stutter or stumble, trip over my shoes or lose my place. I even did an okay job looking up and making eye contact. But I know I could have done better.
It's also good of me to read before an unsympathetic audience. Yes, these people wanted to come to a fiction/poetry reading (some for extra credit) but few of them felt the pains of having to get up there after me and perform. It's in that terror of public performance that we build bonds and become better audiences.
Maybe I'm being too morose. After all, I didn't stutter or stumble, trip over my shoes or lose my place. I even did an okay job looking up and making eye contact. But I know I could have done better.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Fo Sho
My reading is tonight. But until then I give you a hilarious and very very well done Muppet Gangsta Rap:
Who knew Bert had it in him?
Who knew Bert had it in him?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
NEWS!
Cake, the short opera adapted by John Chittum from my short story by the same name is being performed in New York City! The April 3 performance will feature a college cast and the April 4 performance, a professional cast. John is very excited as well. He tells me that the guy who is working on the scenery for the performance is also a comic book artist (which is really appropriate if you read the story).
I've also placed a reading copy of "Cake" up on my website. I think that I will be taking that short story to workshop this week. It's a good idea (or at least good enough for an opera) but I need help making it a tighter, better written story.
The copy on the website doesn't employ quotation marks. This is because the original story had this discombobulated feeling. Sarah, the main character was walking through the world in a daze more or less. Since then I've grounded the story in both time and place and I don't think the dialog without quotation marks works. No longer is the dialog almost missed by her, no longer is it inconsequential to her thoughts and feelings as she floats through the world. Maybe I should push back toward that airy feeling of detachment or maybe I should push it to be further grounded. I'm caught between the options. Maybe it needs more help than I thought.
I've also placed a reading copy of "Cake" up on my website. I think that I will be taking that short story to workshop this week. It's a good idea (or at least good enough for an opera) but I need help making it a tighter, better written story.
The copy on the website doesn't employ quotation marks. This is because the original story had this discombobulated feeling. Sarah, the main character was walking through the world in a daze more or less. Since then I've grounded the story in both time and place and I don't think the dialog without quotation marks works. No longer is the dialog almost missed by her, no longer is it inconsequential to her thoughts and feelings as she floats through the world. Maybe I should push back toward that airy feeling of detachment or maybe I should push it to be further grounded. I'm caught between the options. Maybe it needs more help than I thought.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
My First MFA Reading
I give my first reading as a MFA candidate this Friday. It's at a local coffee shop/bar/pizza joint (basically everything legal that college students spend money on) and there will be two other MFA candidates reading as well. Each of us expected to read 10-15 minutes worth of original work. During fall and spring semester the grad student council puts on something they call "The Third Coast Reading Series" -- a lot of things around here get the name Third Coast, including our literary journal. There are roughly four readings per semester and this will be the last one for the spring.
We're expected to do our own publicity (read: paper fliers in mailboxes and on a couple walls) so I designed the one for our group. I'm actually quite proud of it. Actually, for this reading series I'm impressed when anyone puts together anything fancier than clip art of a book along with the time and date. That's my flier on the right. I should have scanned it to make a better picture but I got lazy and just took a picture of it for ya'll.
I've been having dreams about it. Maybe they count as nightmares, I don't know. I go to give my reading and realize I haven't printed out copies to read from! So I go to the coffee shop across the street where people are friendly and there's a printer and I print, but I still miss my scheduled reading time. I think I also lose my shoes. But the friendly people at the second coffee shop tell me it's okay, that I can read at their shop, that I should read there anyway because they're nicer. So I do. I think. And then the mystery machine pulls up and Scooby and the gang get out and get lattes.
I think I'll go print out copies tonight.
But I have logical fears too. Not about the pieces I've chosen to read (I decided what I would be reading back in January when I signed up on the roster), or even about getting up in front of an audience (I've done that before and I've found that practice, bravado and adrenaline serve me very, very well). I'm nervous about the turn out. It would suck to read to an empty coffee shop.
I don't know how the weather is going to play into the situation. It's just started to get nice enough for normal people to enjoy being outside. Does pleasant weather or snowy-but-not-blizzard weather make you want to get out of your apartment and sit in a coffee shop for an hour? I don't know.
Update: I just checked the weather forecast. Friday's high is supposed to be 47 degrees. That's probably the best possible outcome. If it was 70 like it was Tuesday people might get caught up spending time outdoors and then forget about our poor little reading. With a high of 47 there will be limited frolicking out of doors. Thumbs up, forecast, thumbs up.
But the weather is only one factor. The real reason I'm nervous about turn out is that all three of us reading are in our first year in the program. I don't think we've had enough time to make enough friends to have everyone be like yeah! I know them, they're nice, let's go hear them read! We'll certainly have our friends there, the people we've asked to introduce us and a couple fiancees, etc. But after that ...? Hopefully people from our workshops show up. Hopefully we've made enough friends and acquaintances that some of them feel the need to show up whether they show up for support, out of friendship or out of guilt. I will take them in any form; I will take them as they come, just come. Please.
We're expected to do our own publicity (read: paper fliers in mailboxes and on a couple walls) so I designed the one for our group. I'm actually quite proud of it. Actually, for this reading series I'm impressed when anyone puts together anything fancier than clip art of a book along with the time and date. That's my flier on the right. I should have scanned it to make a better picture but I got lazy and just took a picture of it for ya'll.I've been having dreams about it. Maybe they count as nightmares, I don't know. I go to give my reading and realize I haven't printed out copies to read from! So I go to the coffee shop across the street where people are friendly and there's a printer and I print, but I still miss my scheduled reading time. I think I also lose my shoes. But the friendly people at the second coffee shop tell me it's okay, that I can read at their shop, that I should read there anyway because they're nicer. So I do. I think. And then the mystery machine pulls up and Scooby and the gang get out and get lattes.
I think I'll go print out copies tonight.
But I have logical fears too. Not about the pieces I've chosen to read (I decided what I would be reading back in January when I signed up on the roster), or even about getting up in front of an audience (I've done that before and I've found that practice, bravado and adrenaline serve me very, very well). I'm nervous about the turn out. It would suck to read to an empty coffee shop.
I don't know how the weather is going to play into the situation. It's just started to get nice enough for normal people to enjoy being outside. Does pleasant weather or snowy-but-not-blizzard weather make you want to get out of your apartment and sit in a coffee shop for an hour? I don't know.
Update: I just checked the weather forecast. Friday's high is supposed to be 47 degrees. That's probably the best possible outcome. If it was 70 like it was Tuesday people might get caught up spending time outdoors and then forget about our poor little reading. With a high of 47 there will be limited frolicking out of doors. Thumbs up, forecast, thumbs up.
But the weather is only one factor. The real reason I'm nervous about turn out is that all three of us reading are in our first year in the program. I don't think we've had enough time to make enough friends to have everyone be like yeah! I know them, they're nice, let's go hear them read! We'll certainly have our friends there, the people we've asked to introduce us and a couple fiancees, etc. But after that ...? Hopefully people from our workshops show up. Hopefully we've made enough friends and acquaintances that some of them feel the need to show up whether they show up for support, out of friendship or out of guilt. I will take them in any form; I will take them as they come, just come. Please.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
St. Partrick's Day / Theory
One of my students asked me if I had St. Patty's plans. "You mean going on a green beer bar crawl?" I asked. He seemed delighted that we both had the same plans ... us and every other student on campus. However that's not really what I meant. St. Patrick's Day as a drinking holiday has lost it's appeal.Anyhow, it's seventy degrees and sunny here. Perfect bar crawl weather.
About a month ago I was directed to this essay by Sara Douglass. Douglass is an Australian author who focuses primarily on writing fantasy novels. Her essay is on why fantasy as a genre endures and prospers. I read it because I'm fascinated by the idea of modern myth making -- and since this was before the AWP conference, I hadn't even begun to think about the 20th century mythology of the comic book possibly replacing the Greek epic.
Douglass' theory is that we are thrilled and delighted by the unknown in fiction. In real life the unknown is scary and we do our best to do away with it. And we've done a very good job with making our world sanitized, scientifically explained, healthy, and generally unscary. Yet we still seek safe ways of experiencing thrills: ghost stories, roller coasters, Jerry Springer. The fantasy novel, says Douglass, fills that niche.
Before science explained away the strange and mysterious events in life (ex: sunrise) we had to come up with our own reasons for why things were the way they were. Creation myths covered the big stuff -- btw, every culture has a creation myth and a flood myth -- and all the little stuff was covered in smaller tales, either mythological tales (tied to religion) or folk tales. But in a world where we don't need fairy changelings to explain infant mortality those tales have slid from things we can possibly believe in to things we read to children on occasion. We know what is out in the woods, and under the bed and fewer and fewer people believe in sprites, spirits, banshees and bogarts. We don't believe in it, but we crave the possibilities that come with it.
Douglass writes,"A book is a nice safe outlet for the yearning for the quest; it sates the craving in the soul for mystery and adventure and danger without the need to fret about how good your sword-wielding skills are." Too true. But this is also where I begin to disagree with Douglass.
Yes, I like the notion that the novel fills in the part of our brains that is given to such wonder as making shapes among the stars -- but I do not believe it applies only to the fantasy genre. I think it applies to any novel (well, except for much contemporary literary fiction which is about the everyday man). Most genre novels are about 1% of the population -- the other 99% of us will never solve the murder of a millionaire in Hong Kong -- but that 1% live on the edge, in danger, going on quests to find murders and double agents, nuclear arms, estranged Irish terrorist organizations, and buried treasure. And I can go along with them without ever needing to learn how to fire a gun, trail behind a suspect or lift a spade. I don't think I need to spell out the James Bond quest-appeal or how much Law & Order the average person watches despite the fact that that person will likely never have a violent crime committed against them. Science fiction fills the same niche by proposing a shifting world; things are unexplainable by science in a futuristic world because the author is proposing something beyond our currently proven theories.
And, just to hit all the major genres, romance fiction does it too. Yes, you are much more likely to fall in love than solve a murder in Hong Kong, but the circumstances are rarely that of a romance novel. If you look at Harlequin's most popular titles (as in these are the titles most repeated used AND most repeated purchased) you'll see Billionaire Take a Bride, The CEO's Wife, The Sheik Prince's Fiancee, Cowboy's (who owns half of Texas you'll come to find out) Reluctant Bride ... basically, there's fame and fortune and high powered sure-of-what-they-want guys in all of these because that creates uncertainty. We all know how to pick up the neighborhood boy, but the Sheik Prince? Now that's uncharted territory.
(I wish I could see the market research that turned up romance novels about Sheiks as ripe territory for romance novels because, frankly, I have no idea where that idea came from.)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Spring Diet
It's the first day of Spring and I'm having my students tell ghost stories. No correlation other than the fact that when I laid out my semester schedule in the fall this was Halloween week. Turns out that this "filler" activity was great for discussing our "movie summary" writing style -- that is heightened storytelling and suspension of disbelief.
I'm also on a diet. Blech.
The weather around here is getting warmer. Thoughts like do I need a coat or just a jacket? are crossing my mind. Getting warmer means that I can't keep counting on having a slightly baggy, comfy layer that I wrap around my midsection to hide the fact that much of my clothing is tighter than I would like it to be. So I will need to either buy a whole new summer wardrobe or I will need to lose a minimum of 15 lbs. before things get warmer. Thus the diet. Which could be thought of as more of an economical move than a vanity one.
Last fall my friend clued me in to something called the "Sacred Heart Medical diet." It's something (allegedly) invented by a hospital for patients that were too heavy to have necessary surgeries. The idea is that you fill yourself up on healthy stuff. You make this soup of green beans, carrots, celery, green peppers, onions and beef broth and chicken bouillon (and because I'm me, a healthy dose of garlic and Mrs. Dash) and you eat it for a week in addition to a rotating schedule of "sides n stuff." Sides n stuff meaning fruit and vegetables and skim milk for the first few days then some veggies and red meat ... then something about bananas.
I read all the articles about it, the good, bad and ugly. Basically it's all stuff I've heard before: Not good for you to do long term, not balanced, effects diminish when you return to your normal style of eating ... Well, duh, people.
Some of us need a jump start to get off the junk food. The best thing this diet can do for me is restructure what I crave. Right now I'm craving box macaroni and cheese. Mmmm, where is that blue box of powdered goodness? Friday I wanted chips and beer -- at least that craving is gone! I've traded it for a piece of garlic toast or even a plain dinner roll.
O, joyous simple white carbs! How I lust after thee!
Instead I'm eating salad. Lots and lots of salad. Vegtable salad, milk and fresh fruit.
O, bread! O, pita! O, thing wrapped in philo dough!
The good news is that -- despite my carb cravings -- my cravings/desires for things like cheesy curls, french fries or other fatty tasting foods is pretty much non-existent.
I've gone through this process of altering food desires several times already. Life gets much easier once I've been eating good, real, natural food for a while. At that point, it's easy to be "good" and not "cheat" when you're not interested in tasting pizza, or fried shrimp or even having that casual beer.
So today is day three. How's it going?: I cheated on day two with an Arby's sandwich.
Which is better than when I've tried this before and cheated on day one and day two and gave up by day three. So for this diet, it's a personal best.
I'm also on a diet. Blech.
The weather around here is getting warmer. Thoughts like do I need a coat or just a jacket? are crossing my mind. Getting warmer means that I can't keep counting on having a slightly baggy, comfy layer that I wrap around my midsection to hide the fact that much of my clothing is tighter than I would like it to be. So I will need to either buy a whole new summer wardrobe or I will need to lose a minimum of 15 lbs. before things get warmer. Thus the diet. Which could be thought of as more of an economical move than a vanity one.
Last fall my friend clued me in to something called the "Sacred Heart Medical diet." It's something (allegedly) invented by a hospital for patients that were too heavy to have necessary surgeries. The idea is that you fill yourself up on healthy stuff. You make this soup of green beans, carrots, celery, green peppers, onions and beef broth and chicken bouillon (and because I'm me, a healthy dose of garlic and Mrs. Dash) and you eat it for a week in addition to a rotating schedule of "sides n stuff." Sides n stuff meaning fruit and vegetables and skim milk for the first few days then some veggies and red meat ... then something about bananas.
I read all the articles about it, the good, bad and ugly. Basically it's all stuff I've heard before: Not good for you to do long term, not balanced, effects diminish when you return to your normal style of eating ... Well, duh, people.
Some of us need a jump start to get off the junk food. The best thing this diet can do for me is restructure what I crave. Right now I'm craving box macaroni and cheese. Mmmm, where is that blue box of powdered goodness? Friday I wanted chips and beer -- at least that craving is gone! I've traded it for a piece of garlic toast or even a plain dinner roll.
O, joyous simple white carbs! How I lust after thee!
Instead I'm eating salad. Lots and lots of salad. Vegtable salad, milk and fresh fruit.
O, bread! O, pita! O, thing wrapped in philo dough!
The good news is that -- despite my carb cravings -- my cravings/desires for things like cheesy curls, french fries or other fatty tasting foods is pretty much non-existent.
I've gone through this process of altering food desires several times already. Life gets much easier once I've been eating good, real, natural food for a while. At that point, it's easy to be "good" and not "cheat" when you're not interested in tasting pizza, or fried shrimp or even having that casual beer.
So today is day three. How's it going?: I cheated on day two with an Arby's sandwich.
Which is better than when I've tried this before and cheated on day one and day two and gave up by day three. So for this diet, it's a personal best.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Ad of the Week
Commercial made by the Coen brothers. That's right, the guys who did "Fargo," "No Country for Old Men," and "The Big Lebowski."
Friday, March 13, 2009
Francine Prose Reading
Last night Francine Prose came to town and read an as of yet unpublished short story. She swears that the Holocaust isn't the only thing that she writes about but this story was set in 1930s Germany. In the two novellas in Guided Tours of Hell one features a concentration camp survivor and the other a Jewish American male who harbors fantasies of living in WWII Paris and doing great deeds for La Resistance.
I still think she's a lovely writer. She does the writerly things I enjoy -- such as letting characters rethink things with similes -- without being overly corny.
In the Q&A session she got rather adamant about not needing to think about form. The question was how do you know what form to put a piece into: shorty story, novel, non-fiction, etc. Ms. Prose doesn't really work in poetry [insert pun about the appropriateness of this given her last name] so she didn't address that at all, but was forceful -- even cut the woman off -- in saying that it is what it is! You either made it up or you didn't! There's no decision; it just is!
At the time I was left scratching my head at this response. But I may or may not have found the gap in communication between the two women.
Prose cited her book on Caravaggio as an example. It's not a novel because it's real; he was real. If I was more familiar with Prose's non-fiction I could tell you if all of it is factual, historical accounts, but given her comment I think it is. I think the woman asking the question in the audience heard non-fiction and thought creative non-fiction. Not histories but personal experiences.
What we should have asked, given the fact that she'd admitted one of the characters in Guided Tours of Hell is based off of a real person (which all the WMU faculty and half the MFA candidates know because he teaching in the Prague summer program), is how she decides to take a real experience of hers and make it fiction instead of memoir.
Sadly, it took me too long to understand all these disconnects. Probably another good reason that I'm not a lawyer, or at least not a trail lawyer: I'd make all my critical realizations after the verdict was announced. I need quiet meditation and time to digest stuff.
But back to the actual question. I wish the the question had been properly phrased because it is a question I struggle with. Up until New Years I thought of every experience I had, every person I met, every story I heard as fodder for my fiction. Now I'm looking at notes toward stories that I've written down to try and twist my life into fictional stories with other characters and I wonder why am I letting characters live my life for me?
No, actually I'm not wondering that. But it sounded poetic so I wrote it down.
What I'm wondering is does it make a better story when I add to it, when I purposefully mold twists and turns into it, or does it make a better story just as it is when it is my memories without any fictional muddying?
I don't have any good answers. If someone asked me this question I'd tell them to take it case by case. The only time I can't follow my own advice is when it comes to family-story.
There are thousands of little anecdotes that my family tells and retells -- your family probably has them too unless you were all raised to not be talkative -- I'll use different terms when I discuss these anecdotes but primarily I call them family-story or table-story. They are that which my family tells when together, usually at my grandmother's kitchen table. These stories seem to have none of the things that makes them good fiction: there's no character arc, the cast of characters is huge, you can't "get into" anyone's mind, and there's often not a point other than it being funny or nostalgic. Despite all this family-story draws me like a lodestone. I want to write it as non-fiction but I can't make the pieces add up to anything worthwhile, and so I have repeatedly attached these true family-stories to fictional characters in fictional scenarios. The fiction gives them a character arc, it gives them lovely neurotic tendencies and other things which are very helpful in telling a story and the family-story gives them life and breath, a history to root themselves in. I hate using family-story in fiction. It feels like a misuse of rich earth. But right now I don't have a way to use it properly.
I came back home and worked on fiction tonight, characters who could never ever be myself are starting to appeal to me in fiction. (Perhaps because I want to turn characters who are me into me?) And accidentally started reading an article in Poets&Writers on what differentiates memoir from personal essay from literary journalism from journalism. The article is written by an angry journalist-type, but once you remove his skeptical slant from the piece there is quite a bit of information lurking underneath about creative non-fiction as a genre with many forms. Article: "Green-Haired Gumshoes or Hidebound Hacks?" by Michael McGregor.
I still think she's a lovely writer. She does the writerly things I enjoy -- such as letting characters rethink things with similes -- without being overly corny.
In the Q&A session she got rather adamant about not needing to think about form. The question was how do you know what form to put a piece into: shorty story, novel, non-fiction, etc. Ms. Prose doesn't really work in poetry [insert pun about the appropriateness of this given her last name] so she didn't address that at all, but was forceful -- even cut the woman off -- in saying that it is what it is! You either made it up or you didn't! There's no decision; it just is!
At the time I was left scratching my head at this response. But I may or may not have found the gap in communication between the two women.
Prose cited her book on Caravaggio as an example. It's not a novel because it's real; he was real. If I was more familiar with Prose's non-fiction I could tell you if all of it is factual, historical accounts, but given her comment I think it is. I think the woman asking the question in the audience heard non-fiction and thought creative non-fiction. Not histories but personal experiences.
What we should have asked, given the fact that she'd admitted one of the characters in Guided Tours of Hell is based off of a real person (which all the WMU faculty and half the MFA candidates know because he teaching in the Prague summer program), is how she decides to take a real experience of hers and make it fiction instead of memoir.
Sadly, it took me too long to understand all these disconnects. Probably another good reason that I'm not a lawyer, or at least not a trail lawyer: I'd make all my critical realizations after the verdict was announced. I need quiet meditation and time to digest stuff.
But back to the actual question. I wish the the question had been properly phrased because it is a question I struggle with. Up until New Years I thought of every experience I had, every person I met, every story I heard as fodder for my fiction. Now I'm looking at notes toward stories that I've written down to try and twist my life into fictional stories with other characters and I wonder why am I letting characters live my life for me?
No, actually I'm not wondering that. But it sounded poetic so I wrote it down.
What I'm wondering is does it make a better story when I add to it, when I purposefully mold twists and turns into it, or does it make a better story just as it is when it is my memories without any fictional muddying?
I don't have any good answers. If someone asked me this question I'd tell them to take it case by case. The only time I can't follow my own advice is when it comes to family-story.
There are thousands of little anecdotes that my family tells and retells -- your family probably has them too unless you were all raised to not be talkative -- I'll use different terms when I discuss these anecdotes but primarily I call them family-story or table-story. They are that which my family tells when together, usually at my grandmother's kitchen table. These stories seem to have none of the things that makes them good fiction: there's no character arc, the cast of characters is huge, you can't "get into" anyone's mind, and there's often not a point other than it being funny or nostalgic. Despite all this family-story draws me like a lodestone. I want to write it as non-fiction but I can't make the pieces add up to anything worthwhile, and so I have repeatedly attached these true family-stories to fictional characters in fictional scenarios. The fiction gives them a character arc, it gives them lovely neurotic tendencies and other things which are very helpful in telling a story and the family-story gives them life and breath, a history to root themselves in. I hate using family-story in fiction. It feels like a misuse of rich earth. But right now I don't have a way to use it properly.
I came back home and worked on fiction tonight, characters who could never ever be myself are starting to appeal to me in fiction. (Perhaps because I want to turn characters who are me into me?) And accidentally started reading an article in Poets&Writers on what differentiates memoir from personal essay from literary journalism from journalism. The article is written by an angry journalist-type, but once you remove his skeptical slant from the piece there is quite a bit of information lurking underneath about creative non-fiction as a genre with many forms. Article: "Green-Haired Gumshoes or Hidebound Hacks?" by Michael McGregor.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Reads and Recommendations
Because Francine Prose is coming to Kalamazoo tomorrow and reading at the public library, my workshop has been reading two of her novellas which are collected in Guided Tours of Hell.
Oh. A novella, I thought. This will be good for me. Like fiber and brussel sprouts. But I was delightfully surprised at the readability. I didn't like the characters in the sense that I wanted to be friends with them but I liked watching them struggle quite a bit.
Oh. A novella, I thought. This will be good for me. Like fiber and brussel sprouts. But I was delightfully surprised at the readability. I didn't like the characters in the sense that I wanted to be friends with them but I liked watching them struggle quite a bit.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I Love Rain
I really do.
How odd is that? Don't most people despair over rainstorms? Especially those that trickle off and on for days.
Me? I love 'em.
Especially compared to the months of snow and bitter cold we've been having. But even without snow I like rain.
I love the noise. It's so calming. I love that it drives other people inside -- particularly if I'm running and get to pretend that I'm all alone, I get to actually be all alone, just me and the path and the puddles. I like how the light is when it rains. The gray half-light. Peaceful.
... Unless I have to be at a wedding. Or picnic. Or I'm supposed to watch a sports game. But I'll gladly live life, run errands, go running in the rain. Sprinkles, downpours, thunderstorms. Better yet, I'll curl up with a book and a blanket next to the open window.
I think I'll go do that now.
How odd is that? Don't most people despair over rainstorms? Especially those that trickle off and on for days.
Me? I love 'em.
Especially compared to the months of snow and bitter cold we've been having. But even without snow I like rain.
I love the noise. It's so calming. I love that it drives other people inside -- particularly if I'm running and get to pretend that I'm all alone, I get to actually be all alone, just me and the path and the puddles. I like how the light is when it rains. The gray half-light. Peaceful.
... Unless I have to be at a wedding. Or picnic. Or I'm supposed to watch a sports game. But I'll gladly live life, run errands, go running in the rain. Sprinkles, downpours, thunderstorms. Better yet, I'll curl up with a book and a blanket next to the open window.
I think I'll go do that now.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Monday
Life: There's a storm which has somehow effected my cable. Outside: wind. Inside: still images for each of the bazillion channels I don't need but subscribe to anyway. It's a four hour long commercial for Scope.
Teaching: I'm grading. And scheduling. And grading. And planning readings for the next month. And lesson plans. And grading. And writing articles. And course notes. And grading. And ... why did I think I could do all of this in one week?
Life: The wind storm keeps setting off car alarms. HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Cats: Rosie realized that we were trying to catch her. We were. I was trying to pack up to leave my father's house on Saturday and the last thing that needed to be packed was Rosie. I needed to grab and shove her into her cat carrier for her two hour long car nap. Once I got her out from under the bed she darted to the basement. Then into the furnace room. Then into the back room of the furnace room which is little more than the space underneath the stairs. Eventually I pried her out of the corner under the bottom most step with a 4' long, 2" diameter dowel. She was covered in cobwebs and nastiness. My father's comment: "Well, at least it's clean down there now."
Life: HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Writing: I never get as much done as I intend to. I keep telling myself that I'll write when I have time after semester has ended. How stupid is that? I need to learn to write and work simultaneously. I need to not be so lazy. I need to watch less House. I think I sighed about six times while thinking and writing this section. Make that seven.
Cooking: While at home during spring break, I finally paid attention to how my father makes his fruit sauce for steak. I knew that he cooks the steak in a cast iron skillet, browns on each side then pops the covered skillet into the oven for 5-10 minutes. After which, he removes the meat to a covered plate and adds wine, and appricot preserves to the pan drippings which he then reduces. I just never paid much attention to how long it takes something to "reduce." Turns out that I was monumentally afraid of the rapidly boiling wine in the pan so in previous attempts I stopped boiling before the wind boiled off. The result was not tasty. Tonight I proved that I can, in fact, copy his recipe.
Life: HONK.
Teaching: I'm grading. And scheduling. And grading. And planning readings for the next month. And lesson plans. And grading. And writing articles. And course notes. And grading. And ... why did I think I could do all of this in one week?
Life: The wind storm keeps setting off car alarms. HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Cats: Rosie realized that we were trying to catch her. We were. I was trying to pack up to leave my father's house on Saturday and the last thing that needed to be packed was Rosie. I needed to grab and shove her into her cat carrier for her two hour long car nap. Once I got her out from under the bed she darted to the basement. Then into the furnace room. Then into the back room of the furnace room which is little more than the space underneath the stairs. Eventually I pried her out of the corner under the bottom most step with a 4' long, 2" diameter dowel. She was covered in cobwebs and nastiness. My father's comment: "Well, at least it's clean down there now."
Life: HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Writing: I never get as much done as I intend to. I keep telling myself that I'll write when I have time after semester has ended. How stupid is that? I need to learn to write and work simultaneously. I need to not be so lazy. I need to watch less House. I think I sighed about six times while thinking and writing this section. Make that seven.
Cooking: While at home during spring break, I finally paid attention to how my father makes his fruit sauce for steak. I knew that he cooks the steak in a cast iron skillet, browns on each side then pops the covered skillet into the oven for 5-10 minutes. After which, he removes the meat to a covered plate and adds wine, and appricot preserves to the pan drippings which he then reduces. I just never paid much attention to how long it takes something to "reduce." Turns out that I was monumentally afraid of the rapidly boiling wine in the pan so in previous attempts I stopped boiling before the wind boiled off. The result was not tasty. Tonight I proved that I can, in fact, copy his recipe.
Life: HONK.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Random, but Funny
This from Lynn Viehl is well worth the read. Quick and funny. I got it from Nathan Bransford's link. I really should read her blog more frequently than I do. She's funny and like every other writer I hope that her rabid success and even more inexplicable prolific tendencies will rub off on me.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
An Optimistic Future
Over on his blog literary agent Nathan Brasnford has instituted a week of optimism. Recently, he penned a non-apocalyptic vision of the book industry. Thank you! Thank you! Not for wondering about the potential for a non-threatening future, but for stating simply and logically that there are advantages to technology and that while we may move away from paper we will never fully leave it behind. Basically, thank you for not jumping on the doomsday wagon.
The short story's already supposed to be dead three times over, books relics, paper obsolete, cars flying and we all own domestic service robot s-- and the Roomba wasn't exactly what I was thinking of; all it can do is vacuum. Oh, and we were all supposed to have killed each other with nuclear technology when the Cold War went hot because few people could imagine the Cold War ending any other way.
So, nope. No flying cars -- hybrid cars, but none of them fly. No lack of paper or of books, or of people wanting to buy paper and write books. And the only robot in our lives is a giant cat toy.
The short story's already supposed to be dead three times over, books relics, paper obsolete, cars flying and we all own domestic service robot s-- and the Roomba wasn't exactly what I was thinking of; all it can do is vacuum. Oh, and we were all supposed to have killed each other with nuclear technology when the Cold War went hot because few people could imagine the Cold War ending any other way.So, nope. No flying cars -- hybrid cars, but none of them fly. No lack of paper or of books, or of people wanting to buy paper and write books. And the only robot in our lives is a giant cat toy.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Reads and Recommendations
I just finished reading Enchantment, by Orson Scott Card today and I give it two thumbs up. That would be the thumb from each hand opposed to the actual standard from ol' Siskel and Ebert back in the day when each man got to give only one thumb of approval.
Anyway!
The novel starts in communist Russia then whips through a dizzying time line. The 90s, medieval Ukraine, Kiev, an enchanted pit in the woods.
To begin with I should say that it's a good fantasy novel. Hands down. The author is clear, consisce, thoughtful, realistic, creates great characters that you love to love and love to hate. He builds enough ambiguity in alongside hints and foreshadowing that you don't always figure out what's going on right away but once he reveals it to you, you feel smart and proud for figuring out as much as you did.
The next thing I should say is that the more you know about Russian folktales or folktales in general, the more you will enjoy this novel. (Which is also the reason it was assigned in my folktales as literature class.) The novel relies heavily on such tales. In part because the main character is a scholar of ancient languages and the social/linguistic patterns of folktales ... but in all his studying he never though he'd ever step in to any of those fairytales. Which leads to the second reason it's great to already know Baba Yaga stories and Ivan stories from Russian folklore: the author imagines where these tales have come from and how ordinary lives got twisted into the stuff of stories.
Anyway!
The novel starts in communist Russia then whips through a dizzying time line. The 90s, medieval Ukraine, Kiev, an enchanted pit in the woods.
To begin with I should say that it's a good fantasy novel. Hands down. The author is clear, consisce, thoughtful, realistic, creates great characters that you love to love and love to hate. He builds enough ambiguity in alongside hints and foreshadowing that you don't always figure out what's going on right away but once he reveals it to you, you feel smart and proud for figuring out as much as you did.
The next thing I should say is that the more you know about Russian folktales or folktales in general, the more you will enjoy this novel. (Which is also the reason it was assigned in my folktales as literature class.) The novel relies heavily on such tales. In part because the main character is a scholar of ancient languages and the social/linguistic patterns of folktales ... but in all his studying he never though he'd ever step in to any of those fairytales. Which leads to the second reason it's great to already know Baba Yaga stories and Ivan stories from Russian folklore: the author imagines where these tales have come from and how ordinary lives got twisted into the stuff of stories.
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