I have been receiving the blurbs for the book. First of all, I would like to thank those who agreed to read the manuscript and blurb it. It is no small task, I know. Secondly, I have been humbled by the response. When those you admire tell you that you've succeeded in many ways, you feel truly blessed and reinvigorated.
On that note, I have started working on the second collection again. Working through some of the original hair-brained ideas has been challenging, but I suppose that is part of the writing world, figuring out what works and what doesn't. This collection, I feel, is going to be even better than the last.
I will say this: Trying to create with all the other commitments and responsibilities that I live with is no small task. I wonder if all working-writers feel this way at some point. I'm sure they do. At the end of the day, the thought of sitting down to work on a story is overwhelming and exhausting. That said, one must soldier on because the only way to achieve anything is to persevere.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Back . . . with a VENGEANCE
It has been some time since I have blogged about anything. It had much to do with summer and watching my children, who are time consuming in the most wonderful ways.
I wrote and had accepted my first book review this summer. It was a deeply profound task as I had never undertaken the evaluation of another's hard work before. I found it rewarding in most respects and would gladly undertake another review project.
The Student Literary Magazine Conference choose DACC as its next destination, so I have been planning for the conference in 2011. I have also been working tirelessly on putting together "The Best Road Tour," which, so far, will feature eight reading dates. I'm pleased with the tour so far, and plan on adding one or two more dates and calling it good for this year.
The writing has been thin, I must admit, and poor over the summer. I am feeling a little sunken, but I have been reading some excellent work. At the beginning of the summer, I finally had a chance to complete my reading of the anthology Home of the Brave, edited by Jeffery Hess and published by Press 53 (www.press53.com). It is a wonderful collection of "war" stories. I put war in quotes because the stories are not exclusively about men or women in war. These stories live on the edge of war as well, something many of us do these days. We look from the outside in at the horrors, and we think, "My God, how can anyone survive that?" Yet they do, and in many of the stories in Home of the Brave we get a clear insight into how survival comes about and, in some cases, the costs of that survival.
I also read Donald Ray Pollock's Knockemstiff and truly enjoyed its honesty and bravery in the face of small-town hell and heaven. I also admire the brutality. For a writer, often times, brutal reality can be difficult to grasp because it is so harsh on the mind and the soul. It is hard to write about burning children, as David Foster Wallace does in "Incarnations of Burned Children." But, like Wallace and like Dorothy Allison, Pollock stares his Knockemstiff, OH right in the face, doesn't flinch, and presents it as it is. We, the readers, come out on the other side haunted by a clearer picture of American small-town life. The voice rings in Knockemstiff with a truth to it, a small bite of American life in rural Ohio that slips between the character's voices and imbeds itself somewhere in the recesses of our brains. I'm still thinking about Knockemstiff. I'm still the tourist with the photographer-wife. "So, this is Knockemstiff." "So, this is Licking." "So, this is Toad Suck." Or Gnaw Bone. Wherever the road may take you, you should know, as a reader and a writer, that it is a winding road with turns so sharp they'll cut you. As they do in Knockemstiff, OH.
I wrote and had accepted my first book review this summer. It was a deeply profound task as I had never undertaken the evaluation of another's hard work before. I found it rewarding in most respects and would gladly undertake another review project.
The Student Literary Magazine Conference choose DACC as its next destination, so I have been planning for the conference in 2011. I have also been working tirelessly on putting together "The Best Road Tour," which, so far, will feature eight reading dates. I'm pleased with the tour so far, and plan on adding one or two more dates and calling it good for this year.
The writing has been thin, I must admit, and poor over the summer. I am feeling a little sunken, but I have been reading some excellent work. At the beginning of the summer, I finally had a chance to complete my reading of the anthology Home of the Brave, edited by Jeffery Hess and published by Press 53 (www.press53.com). It is a wonderful collection of "war" stories. I put war in quotes because the stories are not exclusively about men or women in war. These stories live on the edge of war as well, something many of us do these days. We look from the outside in at the horrors, and we think, "My God, how can anyone survive that?" Yet they do, and in many of the stories in Home of the Brave we get a clear insight into how survival comes about and, in some cases, the costs of that survival.
I also read Donald Ray Pollock's Knockemstiff and truly enjoyed its honesty and bravery in the face of small-town hell and heaven. I also admire the brutality. For a writer, often times, brutal reality can be difficult to grasp because it is so harsh on the mind and the soul. It is hard to write about burning children, as David Foster Wallace does in "Incarnations of Burned Children." But, like Wallace and like Dorothy Allison, Pollock stares his Knockemstiff, OH right in the face, doesn't flinch, and presents it as it is. We, the readers, come out on the other side haunted by a clearer picture of American small-town life. The voice rings in Knockemstiff with a truth to it, a small bite of American life in rural Ohio that slips between the character's voices and imbeds itself somewhere in the recesses of our brains. I'm still thinking about Knockemstiff. I'm still the tourist with the photographer-wife. "So, this is Knockemstiff." "So, this is Licking." "So, this is Toad Suck." Or Gnaw Bone. Wherever the road may take you, you should know, as a reader and a writer, that it is a winding road with turns so sharp they'll cut you. As they do in Knockemstiff, OH.
Monday, February 1, 2010
"Play"ing
Occasionally, I brashly believe I know something about the art and craft of fiction. I sound, to myself and others, as if I actually know something about the mess that is creation. Then I read something by Salinger and realize I know next to nothing, very little, a minute amount that would fill the space of a pin head.
Dialogue, at least to me, is a bit of a lost art. Creating realistic, intriguing, plot relevant, character relevant dialogue is something that is difficult to find in any author. Salinger was an expert at it. He reveled in it, it seems. And, as we know now, the past tense can no longer be avoided when referencing J.D. Salinger.
I feel very lucky to be working with a promising young writer, Joe Lewis, on the adaptation of one of my short stories into a stage play. The writing is both invigorating and challenging. I enlisted Mr. Lewis because of his knowledge of the genre, of which I have little, as well as his work ethic and overall talent. I also knew he was a student who would not back down from his own ideas.
Suffice it to say that playwriting, or screenwriting for that matter, is an exercise every fiction writer should attempt. The development of character and scene, tension and drama specifically and almost exclusively through dialogue is a mountain we should all climb. Of course, there's a certain level of interpretation on the other end through the eyes and mind of the actors and the director, but ultimately, the writer is still trying to convey a feeling, a sense, an emotion through the lines spoken by his or her characters. Without the ally of exposition, I have felt at times during this process as if I'm flapping like a loose grocery sack in a persistent wind. The process is grinding, and I find myself needing more days off from it than I expected. Partly due to numerous other commitments, including my own work, but also due to the toll this type of writing can take on an artist. I admire those who work with the genre on a consistent basis. They are to be commended for their fortitude and efforts.
But this started out as an entry on Salinger. I reread Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." I love that story for the sake of what is revealed but also for the the dialogue, which is perfect, beautiful, and sustaining. A tip of an unworthy hat to J.D. Salinger and a thank you for giving us his stories. The dialogue is not only a perfect study for beginning to intermediate students but is also a tribute to the art of the spoken word in fiction where plot is advanced, character revealed, and so much more seethes beneath its surface.
Dialogue, at least to me, is a bit of a lost art. Creating realistic, intriguing, plot relevant, character relevant dialogue is something that is difficult to find in any author. Salinger was an expert at it. He reveled in it, it seems. And, as we know now, the past tense can no longer be avoided when referencing J.D. Salinger.
I feel very lucky to be working with a promising young writer, Joe Lewis, on the adaptation of one of my short stories into a stage play. The writing is both invigorating and challenging. I enlisted Mr. Lewis because of his knowledge of the genre, of which I have little, as well as his work ethic and overall talent. I also knew he was a student who would not back down from his own ideas.
Suffice it to say that playwriting, or screenwriting for that matter, is an exercise every fiction writer should attempt. The development of character and scene, tension and drama specifically and almost exclusively through dialogue is a mountain we should all climb. Of course, there's a certain level of interpretation on the other end through the eyes and mind of the actors and the director, but ultimately, the writer is still trying to convey a feeling, a sense, an emotion through the lines spoken by his or her characters. Without the ally of exposition, I have felt at times during this process as if I'm flapping like a loose grocery sack in a persistent wind. The process is grinding, and I find myself needing more days off from it than I expected. Partly due to numerous other commitments, including my own work, but also due to the toll this type of writing can take on an artist. I admire those who work with the genre on a consistent basis. They are to be commended for their fortitude and efforts.
But this started out as an entry on Salinger. I reread Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." I love that story for the sake of what is revealed but also for the the dialogue, which is perfect, beautiful, and sustaining. A tip of an unworthy hat to J.D. Salinger and a thank you for giving us his stories. The dialogue is not only a perfect study for beginning to intermediate students but is also a tribute to the art of the spoken word in fiction where plot is advanced, character revealed, and so much more seethes beneath its surface.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A Time to Feel
Recently, I have had many an interesting dicussion in my creative writing course about "feeling" a story. We have been discussing how a story gathers, and it has come to my attention that "feeling" any situation is truly at the heart of understanding art.
I have several stories in different folders on my computer that have simply died due to lack of feeling. I am positive that other writers have similar situations. There simply was nothing there. Nothing worth exploring. Nothing worth telling. Nothing worth feeling. The story simply died out because it lacked any kind of heartbeat in the first place.
However, I do believe, without a doubt, that these stories that have died have a place in the writing journey. There's no arguing that creation of material is essential to the success of any writer's journey, but that material does not always have to be excellent, as we know. Those of us who have successfully navigated and in some cases survived graduate-level workshops know that failure is simply the nature of the game. Even those who have not attended a university and studied the craft in a formal setting know this. So, it's not a question of to fail or not to fail, of a story dying or not dying. It's not an "if" question. It's a "when" question.
The reaction the writer has to failure ultimately will tell him or her a great deal about his or her commitment to their on journey. The first time you roll up that rejection slip or story that is a true failure or poem that simply doesn't work and stuff it into a Jim Beam bottle or throw it on a pyre, you will know which direction you wish to proceed.
I have several stories in different folders on my computer that have simply died due to lack of feeling. I am positive that other writers have similar situations. There simply was nothing there. Nothing worth exploring. Nothing worth telling. Nothing worth feeling. The story simply died out because it lacked any kind of heartbeat in the first place.
However, I do believe, without a doubt, that these stories that have died have a place in the writing journey. There's no arguing that creation of material is essential to the success of any writer's journey, but that material does not always have to be excellent, as we know. Those of us who have successfully navigated and in some cases survived graduate-level workshops know that failure is simply the nature of the game. Even those who have not attended a university and studied the craft in a formal setting know this. So, it's not a question of to fail or not to fail, of a story dying or not dying. It's not an "if" question. It's a "when" question.
The reaction the writer has to failure ultimately will tell him or her a great deal about his or her commitment to their on journey. The first time you roll up that rejection slip or story that is a true failure or poem that simply doesn't work and stuff it into a Jim Beam bottle or throw it on a pyre, you will know which direction you wish to proceed.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
The Work Ahead
It has been awhile since I have posted anything. Perhaps due to the holiday season; perhaps because I've been home watching the children; perhaps because we have been buried in snow for the past week.
Since my last post, I have learned that Press 53 (www.press53.com) has picked up my collection of short stories, Best Road Yet. I am elated with the news, and I am also treading in unknown waters. As I look forward, I realize there is much work to be done on the book. This is a bit daunting, no doubt, especially with the continuation of work on the "something longer" mentioned in an early post (more on that in a moment), but I am ready for the challenge. I believe in the press and in its editor. I also believe in myself. Put all of that together, and I know the final product will be excellent. I look forward to the work.
As for the "something longer," I have found it exceedingly difficult to get much work done over the course of the last few weeks. The holidays present interesting challenges to the writer with a family. Speaking of that, I will have to do a post on the writer who "takes time off" to raise a family at some point.
The writing has been going about as slow as this snow seems to be melting. A refocus is certainly required, and with a number of other commitments this semester, including the prep for the new book coming out in October, an endowed chair project to administer, two conferences to attend and one to assist in the planning of, seven classes to teach, and a book to not only prep and edit but to market as well, I see the coming months as hectic at best. However, I find it necessary to force time in to write. A former teacher and friend of mine, Mary Troy, implored the graduates of the M.F.A. program to keep their own work in perspective. "Your work comes first," she used to say. "Everything else is peripheral." There's some truth to that, of course, but ultimately a certain balance must be achieved.
In light of this, I plan on applying for residencies with my eyes on a few that are truly of interest to me. I have found the Ucross Foundation, located in Wyoming, particularly attractive and hope to be accepted in order to work on the "something longer."
All of that said, life has taken an excellent turn at this point. I am grateful for all that has transpired over the last several weeks and throughout this past year and look forward to a productive and vigorous 2010.
Since my last post, I have learned that Press 53 (www.press53.com) has picked up my collection of short stories, Best Road Yet. I am elated with the news, and I am also treading in unknown waters. As I look forward, I realize there is much work to be done on the book. This is a bit daunting, no doubt, especially with the continuation of work on the "something longer" mentioned in an early post (more on that in a moment), but I am ready for the challenge. I believe in the press and in its editor. I also believe in myself. Put all of that together, and I know the final product will be excellent. I look forward to the work.
As for the "something longer," I have found it exceedingly difficult to get much work done over the course of the last few weeks. The holidays present interesting challenges to the writer with a family. Speaking of that, I will have to do a post on the writer who "takes time off" to raise a family at some point.
The writing has been going about as slow as this snow seems to be melting. A refocus is certainly required, and with a number of other commitments this semester, including the prep for the new book coming out in October, an endowed chair project to administer, two conferences to attend and one to assist in the planning of, seven classes to teach, and a book to not only prep and edit but to market as well, I see the coming months as hectic at best. However, I find it necessary to force time in to write. A former teacher and friend of mine, Mary Troy, implored the graduates of the M.F.A. program to keep their own work in perspective. "Your work comes first," she used to say. "Everything else is peripheral." There's some truth to that, of course, but ultimately a certain balance must be achieved.
In light of this, I plan on applying for residencies with my eyes on a few that are truly of interest to me. I have found the Ucross Foundation, located in Wyoming, particularly attractive and hope to be accepted in order to work on the "something longer."
All of that said, life has taken an excellent turn at this point. I am grateful for all that has transpired over the last several weeks and throughout this past year and look forward to a productive and vigorous 2010.
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