I loved this piece in the Glimmer Train newsletter by Benjamin Percy, whose short story “Refresh, Refresh” was one of the most amazing short stories I’ve read in the past few years:
“Most writers are conservative. By that I mean they lock their best ideas in a vault and take pleasure in the richness of their stores, like misers with their money. Maybe you have moleskins full of hastily scribbled notes. Or a corkboard next to your desk messy with images, structural blueprints, articles ripped from magazines. Or at the very least a folder on your computer labeled Stuff.
“For every story or essay or poem you write, you withdraw one image, two characters, maybe three of the metaphors you have stockpiled—and then slam shut the vault and lock it with a key shaped like a skeleton's finger.
“I used to be the same way, nervously rationing out my ideas.”
Read on here.
I also liked this piece in the same newsletter by J. Kevin Shushtari (though, as usual, I’m terribly jealous of anyone who can be a doctor AND a writer):
“Some time ago, a doctor friend of mine who dabbles in fiction said, "Why are you getting an MFA? Everyone knows writing can't be taught." About to enroll in Boston University's MFA Program, I thought about his comment for a long time. As a doctor myself, I have long known that certain aspects of medicine can't be taught because, well, they're more art than science. Nobody can teach you, for example, how to feel compassion; you either do or you don't. Still, not a single person ever asked me why I was going to medical school. Not a single person said medicine can't be taught.”
Read on here.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Carla Cohen
Carla Cohen, co-owner of DC's premier independent bookstore Politics & Prose, has died. More here, at the P&P website: http://www.politics-prose.com/carla#
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Work in Progress: How Readers Find Books
I’m always curious to know how people end up choosing the books that they purchase and/or read. As a writer, I know a lot of other writers and I read a lot of book reviews, so I like to imagine that my selections are informed in some organized way—though just as often as not my selections are based on a random recommendation by a friend (but if she’s a writer, doesn’t that make it a smarter, more appropriate recommendation?). I pay attention to book reviews, but I often will bypass a book deemed a “masterpiece” in the first paragraph for a book that’s about some topic that interests me (New York City and Breakfast at Tiffany’s) even if the review is not so glowing.
Also, I have an irritating habit of immediately asking who wrote a book when someone mentions something they’ve been reading. Other writers are accustomed to this question and readily provide the information—if they didn’t lead with it—but “regular” people are often startled, as if they hadn’t considered the author’s role…which is kind of nice when you think about it: they’re into the story, not who wrote the story (and what credentials that writer might have).
So here’s a story about how a reader found a book:
I was recently at a dinner party and a “regular” woman mentioned to the group that she was reading the most amazing book, although it was quite dark. Naturally, I asked what the book was: “Room,” she said. (By Emma Donoghue.)
Because the book had been reviewed extensively (New York Times Book Review front page, The Washington Post) and I had heard the author interviewed somewhere (NPR, no doubt) and because it’s on the short-list for the Man Booker Prize, I wasn’t all that surprised that she might be reading this “It” book.
She explained what the book was about to the group—it’s told from the point of view of a five-year-old-boy who has spent his whole life locked in a tiny room with his mother by an abusive man (his father)—and there was some conversation about that topic as fiction and the real-life story that undoubtedly inspired it and how excellent the book was even though it was so dark and what a page turner it was and on, until I knew that I couldn’t wait for the paperback and would have to buy Room now.
Then—because this woman was so sweet and not the type who looks as though she would enjoy reading disturbing books—I asked how she had picked the book, and she said, “It was at Costco. We were on our way out but I wanted to grab a book, and I picked one up, read the first few pages…then I picked up this book, read some pages, and knew I had to keep reading.”
So there you have it, yet again: It’s the STORY, stupid. Not the name, not the awards, and not even the reviews. The STORY.
(Okay, with a little help from distribution.)
Then I recommended my favorite dark, disturbing book--We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver--and she told me she’d look for it.
Also, I have an irritating habit of immediately asking who wrote a book when someone mentions something they’ve been reading. Other writers are accustomed to this question and readily provide the information—if they didn’t lead with it—but “regular” people are often startled, as if they hadn’t considered the author’s role…which is kind of nice when you think about it: they’re into the story, not who wrote the story (and what credentials that writer might have).
So here’s a story about how a reader found a book:
I was recently at a dinner party and a “regular” woman mentioned to the group that she was reading the most amazing book, although it was quite dark. Naturally, I asked what the book was: “Room,” she said. (By Emma Donoghue.)
Because the book had been reviewed extensively (New York Times Book Review front page, The Washington Post) and I had heard the author interviewed somewhere (NPR, no doubt) and because it’s on the short-list for the Man Booker Prize, I wasn’t all that surprised that she might be reading this “It” book.
She explained what the book was about to the group—it’s told from the point of view of a five-year-old-boy who has spent his whole life locked in a tiny room with his mother by an abusive man (his father)—and there was some conversation about that topic as fiction and the real-life story that undoubtedly inspired it and how excellent the book was even though it was so dark and what a page turner it was and on, until I knew that I couldn’t wait for the paperback and would have to buy Room now.
Then—because this woman was so sweet and not the type who looks as though she would enjoy reading disturbing books—I asked how she had picked the book, and she said, “It was at Costco. We were on our way out but I wanted to grab a book, and I picked one up, read the first few pages…then I picked up this book, read some pages, and knew I had to keep reading.”
So there you have it, yet again: It’s the STORY, stupid. Not the name, not the awards, and not even the reviews. The STORY.
(Okay, with a little help from distribution.)
Then I recommended my favorite dark, disturbing book--We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver--and she told me she’d look for it.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Good News: Crab Orchard Review
I’m pleased to report that I have a new piece in the Summer/Fall 2010 edition of Crab Orchard Review. “The Chicago Brother” is a section from my novel-in-progress, but don’t be afraid: it truly does stand on its own. I’m especially pleased to be included in this special “Land of Lincoln: Writing about and from Illinois” issue…and to see a lovely poem about Mary Todd Lincoln by my buddy, Anna Leahy!
The contents are not online at this time (sorry), but for more information, the website is here. And if you’re looking to submit to a very classy, top-notch journal, you should read the FAQ (here) and then send in your work. This journal is truly edited by people who care! Highly recommended.
The contents are not online at this time (sorry), but for more information, the website is here. And if you’re looking to submit to a very classy, top-notch journal, you should read the FAQ (here) and then send in your work. This journal is truly edited by people who care! Highly recommended.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Link Corral: Gatsby Tour (Because What Is a Day without Gatsby?) & Poetry
Writer Paula Whyman sent along a link to a New York Times article about the “Gatsby” tour of Long Island, NY. (I’m officially like one of those women who collects ceramic elephants, and so everyone gives her one…only, whew, I collect Gatsby/Fitzgerald links, instead of elephants.)
Anyway, go here:
“Board the Long Island Rail Road. Watch the gap. Be borne back into the past over tracks that will lead you to Fitzgerald’s Eggs, East and West, which he placed in “the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound,” a half-hour from Manhattan by train, not much longer by Rolls-Royce.
“That is if you can find this place. Long Island was the setting for the novel, but discovering what’s left of its 1920s Gold Coast splendor — either the real thing or Fitzgerald’s vivid gilt invention — is as much a job for a receptive imagination as it is for a Google map with a homing device directed to locate a certain green beacon. It’s a diverting exercise, though, and the railroad is an excellent starting point. After all, it ferried party guests to Gatsby, whose “station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains.”
***
Poet Philip Belcher wrote this great review of Sandra Beasley’s new book, I Was the Jukebox, one of my favorite books of the year. From Gently Read Literature:
“If Sandra Beasley’s first collection, Theories of Falling, showed something of this poet’s promise, her second collection and winner of the Barnard Women Poets Prize, I Was the Jukebox, makes clear that we are in the hands of a talented writer with a strong voice, a vivid imagination, and a bright future. This new collection is all about voice, and Beasley’s is unmistakable and clear.”
***
Beltway Poetry Quarterly continues the year-long celebration of our tenth anniversary with one more special issue, "Mapping the City: DC Places II," with an interactive map
Contains 40 poems about specific places in the greater Washington, DC region. Poems mention streets, neighborhoods, parks, monuments, or businesses by name. A beautiful interactive map by Emery Pajer allows readers to scan the city and press digital pushpins to select poems.
Go to http://www.beltwaypoetry.com
Anyway, go here:
“Board the Long Island Rail Road. Watch the gap. Be borne back into the past over tracks that will lead you to Fitzgerald’s Eggs, East and West, which he placed in “the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound,” a half-hour from Manhattan by train, not much longer by Rolls-Royce.
“That is if you can find this place. Long Island was the setting for the novel, but discovering what’s left of its 1920s Gold Coast splendor — either the real thing or Fitzgerald’s vivid gilt invention — is as much a job for a receptive imagination as it is for a Google map with a homing device directed to locate a certain green beacon. It’s a diverting exercise, though, and the railroad is an excellent starting point. After all, it ferried party guests to Gatsby, whose “station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains.”
***
Poet Philip Belcher wrote this great review of Sandra Beasley’s new book, I Was the Jukebox, one of my favorite books of the year. From Gently Read Literature:
“If Sandra Beasley’s first collection, Theories of Falling, showed something of this poet’s promise, her second collection and winner of the Barnard Women Poets Prize, I Was the Jukebox, makes clear that we are in the hands of a talented writer with a strong voice, a vivid imagination, and a bright future. This new collection is all about voice, and Beasley’s is unmistakable and clear.”
***
Beltway Poetry Quarterly continues the year-long celebration of our tenth anniversary with one more special issue, "Mapping the City: DC Places II," with an interactive map
Contains 40 poems about specific places in the greater Washington, DC region. Poems mention streets, neighborhoods, parks, monuments, or businesses by name. A beautiful interactive map by Emery Pajer allows readers to scan the city and press digital pushpins to select poems.
Go to http://www.beltwaypoetry.com
Monday, October 4, 2010
Gatsby and Gatz...Again
Stop everything and read this first of a new series of columns about writing in the Wall Street Journal. Fitzgerald is a master of description, and writer Blake Bailey is a master at conveying the evidence concisely:
"In "The Lost Weekend," the alcoholic protagonist Don Birnam pretends to teach his favorite novel, "The Great Gatsby," to an audience of students, all agog: F. Scott Fitzgerald, he says, "has the one thing that a novelist needs: a truly seeing eye."
"I've said as much to my own students, in the course of asking them, say, to describe a lawn. They shrug. Blink. "It's green," one of them invariably says. "Grassy." Here's how Fitzgerald describes one: "The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run."
"The lawn ran? The lawn jumped? Is it an ill-tended lawn? Obviously not, because it's so sleek and swift, in such a well-groomed hurry to dash over every obstacle and splash itself festively against the bricks…."
Read the rest here. (Thanks, Steve, for the link!)
***
More on Gatz, the 8-hour show in which the entire text of The Great Gatsby is read/interpreted:
“Gatz director John Collins says the first 45 minutes of the performance are the toughest for him, as he senses the audience's fear that they will simply be "watching some guy read." But he says the show makes a deeper connection with theatergoers because they see the transformation of the character reading the book over many hours and begin to feel a kinship with him."
(Thanks, Steve, for this link, too…thank goodness I know someone who reads the Wall Street Journal!)
"In "The Lost Weekend," the alcoholic protagonist Don Birnam pretends to teach his favorite novel, "The Great Gatsby," to an audience of students, all agog: F. Scott Fitzgerald, he says, "has the one thing that a novelist needs: a truly seeing eye."
"I've said as much to my own students, in the course of asking them, say, to describe a lawn. They shrug. Blink. "It's green," one of them invariably says. "Grassy." Here's how Fitzgerald describes one: "The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run."
"The lawn ran? The lawn jumped? Is it an ill-tended lawn? Obviously not, because it's so sleek and swift, in such a well-groomed hurry to dash over every obstacle and splash itself festively against the bricks…."
Read the rest here. (Thanks, Steve, for the link!)
***
More on Gatz, the 8-hour show in which the entire text of The Great Gatsby is read/interpreted:
“Gatz director John Collins says the first 45 minutes of the performance are the toughest for him, as he senses the audience's fear that they will simply be "watching some guy read." But he says the show makes a deeper connection with theatergoers because they see the transformation of the character reading the book over many hours and begin to feel a kinship with him."
(Thanks, Steve, for this link, too…thank goodness I know someone who reads the Wall Street Journal!)
VA vs. MD, Round One
Check out writer Paula Whyman’s funny blog post about living in Virginia vs. living in Maryland. Oh, look…there I am, as featured guest, being mocked for living in the lovely Commonwealth of Virginia! I think I lose this battle...sorry, Commonwealth:
“If you grow up in the Maryland suburbs, there is an unwritten rule: You do not go to Virginia. There are any number of legitimate reasons for this, whether you prefer to cite Civil War history, or merely the stark incompatibility of state mottos: Virginia is for lovers; Maryland, as we know, is for crabs. We like it that way.
…
Paula: How often do you come to Bethesda, and what are your impressions? Because even though my impressions of Virginia were formed by not going there, I expect you to give me a reasoned perspective on Maryland based on actual experience.
Leslie: Well, when I go to Maryland, it’s usually Bethesda, so I guess it’s my favorite place that isn’t Baltimore or the Eastern Shore, or that isn’t the Bob Evans outside Frederick that I once stopped at the morning after a horrific snowstorm that forced me to stay overnight in Breezewood, Penn.
Paula: So, basically, Bethesda is your favorite Maryland destination, besides Bob Evans on the highway and all the other Maryland destinations you’ve visited. High praise!"
Read the rest here!
“If you grow up in the Maryland suburbs, there is an unwritten rule: You do not go to Virginia. There are any number of legitimate reasons for this, whether you prefer to cite Civil War history, or merely the stark incompatibility of state mottos: Virginia is for lovers; Maryland, as we know, is for crabs. We like it that way.
…
Paula: How often do you come to Bethesda, and what are your impressions? Because even though my impressions of Virginia were formed by not going there, I expect you to give me a reasoned perspective on Maryland based on actual experience.
Leslie: Well, when I go to Maryland, it’s usually Bethesda, so I guess it’s my favorite place that isn’t Baltimore or the Eastern Shore, or that isn’t the Bob Evans outside Frederick that I once stopped at the morning after a horrific snowstorm that forced me to stay overnight in Breezewood, Penn.
Paula: So, basically, Bethesda is your favorite Maryland destination, besides Bob Evans on the highway and all the other Maryland destinations you’ve visited. High praise!"
Read the rest here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)